The Black rose (Minsung ff)

Princess

Jisung didn't know how many hours had passed since the last guard had left him. Time was an illusion in the cold, dark cell, where the silence was only broken by his own ragged breathing.

His muscles ached from the restraints, and his mind was teetering on the edge of exhaustion, yet sleep wouldn't come. The anxiety kept him awake, gnawing at him like a constant, invisible presence.

Just when he thought he might lose his mind completely, the sound of footsteps echoed outside the door again. He tensed, expecting another faceless guard or maybe a new round of torment.

The door creaked open, and this time, four bodyguards stepped inside. They were massive, intimidating men dressed in sharp black suits with guns holstered at their sides. Their eyes flickered to Jisung, then back to each other, as if they were silently deciding how to approach him.

Before he could react, they moved toward him, unlocking his chains with swift, practiced movements. Jisung flinched, fear spiking in his chest, but the guards didn't hurt him. Instead, they handled him almost... delicately. With an odd, eerie respect that made his skin crawl. They exchanged quick glances as if they were afraid of making the wrong move.

"Sir, Please Get up," one of them said, his voice low but not unkind.

Jisung tried to stand, but his legs wobbled beneath him, weak from hours of confinement. Two guards reached out, gently but firmly supporting him on either side. He tried to resist, pulling back instinctively, but they didn't let go.

"W-What's happening?" he croaked, his voice barely a whisper. The guards didn't answer, but they moved with a purpose, leading him down the dim, narrow corridors of the building.

He was taken to a room where he was quickly, efficiently cleaned up. The guards hovered nearby, watching his every move, but they didn't rush him or say anything. They seemed... cautious, as if they feared what might happen to them if they hurt him. Jisung's mind raced with questions, but the tension in the air kept him silent.

After he had been washed, they handed him a fresh set of clothes. An oversized T-shirt and comfortable pants. He looked at the fabric, then at the guards, confusion swirling in his mind. He wasn't sure why they were treating him with this sudden care. But something told him this wasn't about kindness.

This was about control, Or so he thought.

---

The next few minutes passed in a blur as the guards led him out of the warehouse which was oddly luxurious and big into a sleek, black car waiting outside. Jisung had no idea where they were taking him, but his instincts screamed that wherever it was, it wasn't good.

The drive was long tense, with two cars full of guards ahead and behind them, forming a protective convoy. Jisung's anxiety only grew as the city blurred past the windows. They entered a heavily guarded area, and the sight of towering glass gates and armed men lining the perimeter told him all he needed to know.

This was no ordinary place.

The car pulled outside the entrance of the HQ as two bodyguards escorted The brown haired boy Inside. Jisung's heart thudded in his chest as They walked. He didn't get a chance to see much of the exterior, but what little he did see was enough.

The building was modern, sleek, with high-tech security at every turn. Bodyguards were stationed everywhere, each one armed and alert, their eyes scanning every inch of the place.

Power hung in the air, thick and undeniable. It was the kind of place where danger lurked in every shadow, where one wrong move could get you killed. Jisung's pulse quickened as the guards led him to an elevator. They were taking him to the 35th floor.

The ride up felt endless. The guards stood in silence around him, their presence imposing, but Jisung couldn't shake the fear off his chest, He was tired of everything.

As the elevator dinged and the doors opened, Jisung was met with an entirely new level of luxury and terror. The floor was spotless marble, the walls lined with dark, polished wood and abstract artwork that somehow made the place feel more intimidating.

The lighting was soft but strategic, casting long shadows in the corners of the room, adding to the eeriness. And then, there were the guards—dozens of them, all stationed at various points in the hallway.

Some carried guns; others carried knives and more subtle weapons, but all of them were armed to the teeth, standing at attention like they were waiting for a war to break out at any second.

They passed several rooms, each one with heavy doors that looked like they could withstand a bomb. The entire place screamed mafia headquarters—dark, modern, and filled with an undercurrent of violence that kept Jisung's heart racing in his chest.

Finally, they reached the end of the hall, and the guards led him to the largest set of double doors. They hesitated for a moment before opening them, as if even they were wary of what or who lay inside.

Jisung stepped through the threshold and was immediately struck by the sheer opulence of the room. It was a massive office, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city below. The office was dark black, The walls were lined with bookshelves and expensive decor and black roses, but what stood out the most was the massive black desk at the far end of the room, and the man seated behind it.

Minho.
Jisung's breath caught in his throat as Minho's piercing gaze met his. He didn't look up from the papers he was reading until Jisung was standing directly in front of him. The silence stretched out for what felt like an eternity, the tension thick enough to cut through.

And then, with a smile that was both chilling and disarmingly gentle, Minho looked up at him, his eyes softening as a smile tugged at his lips as he spoke.

"Hi, princess."