The Black rose (Minsung ff)

Secrets

When Jisung woke up, the first thing he noticed was how soft the fabric against his skin felt. His clothes had been changed into comfortable pajamas, ones he didn't remember putting on.

His heart raced for a second, the realization that Minho must have had him changed without waking him both unsettling and oddly tender. Yet, the space beside him was empty. Minho was gone.

A pang of longing twisted in his chest. He missed Minho.

He sat up, rubbing his eyes, taking in the room bathed in the soft morning light. Just as he was about to get out of bed, the door creaked open, and a few maids entered, quietly bustling around.

"Good morning, sir. We were instructed by Mr.Lee to check on you," one of the maids said, her voice soft and polite. "He didn't want you to be disturbed earlier."

Jisung nodded, barely registering their words. His thoughts were on Minho, wondering where he could be, why he left so early.

--

At the Black Rose HQ, Minho was seated in his office, his fingers tracing patterns on the mahogany desk. Across from him sat Felix, someone who had always known how to deliver news, both good and bad, without sugarcoating it.

"Minho hyung," Felix began, his tone cautious, "there's something you should know about Jisung. When we spoke earlier, he mentioned something about his past."

Minho's gaze sharpened, his eyes darkening as Felix continued.

"He mentioned the mafia that kidnapped him... it sounds like the Southern Syndicate."

A flare of fury sparked in Minho's chest at the mention of that name. The Southern Syndicate, The group he thought was long destroyed, annihilated after he led the charge to wipe them out years ago.

The syndicate was ruthless, known for trafficking and torture, and he had personally ensured their downfall—or so he thought.

"I knew we shouldn't have forgiven them, they're rebelling again and now this... They hurt my baby." Minho's voice was laced with venom.

Felix nodded, reading the anger in his leader's face. "It seems like they've been quietly reviving their operations, showing signs of rebellion. They've been keeping low, but now they're stirring up trouble again."

Minho clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists. The idea of those monsters still being out there, and that they had hurt his Jisung, was enough to ignite a dangerous rage inside him. He would deal with this, but first, he needed to talk to Jisung about it. He needed to know more.

But tonight, there were other matters at hand. He had a scheduled meeting with a few smaller mafia leaders, and it was set to take place at one of their largest and most profitable venues—a high-end prostitution club. Minho's mind, however, wasn't focused on the meeting or the leaders. His thoughts drifted back to Jisung, his delicate figure and soft eyes. He missed him.

A decision formed in his mind. He wasn't going to this meeting alone. He wanted Jisung by his side.

--

Back in his room, Jisung had returned to his bed, unsure of how to pass the time. He still felt out of place in Minho's mansion, the walls so unfamiliar, and the silence almost eerie. Just as he began to lose himself in thought, the door opened again, this time with the maids bringing in a fresh set of clothes.

"Mr.Lee has requested that you accompany him tonight," one of them said as they handed him a carefully curated outfit. "These are for you."

Jisung's heart skipped a beat. He was nervous, unsure of what to expect, but something about being by Minho's side reassured him. He dressed slowly, the clothes more comfortable than what he'd worn before, if that was even possible—soft fabrics that didn't restrict him, but still made him look presentable.

When he was ready, a group of bodyguards entered his room, their expressions stoic as they escorted him downstairs.

 A sleek, black Porsche awaited outside, and before he knew it, he was being whisked away to the venue. The city lights blurred by as they drove, the sense of foreboding growing stronger in Jisung's chest with each passing moment.

They arrived at the club, an imposing building that seemed to loom over him, and the guards wasted no time in leading Jisung through the back entrance and up to a private meeting room.

The moment he stepped inside, he felt the weight of eyes on him. The room was filled with lower-ranking mafia leaders, their sharp gazes sizing him up as he moved toward the sleek black sofa, reserved specifically for Minho.

Jisung sat stiffly, his nerves getting the better of him. His appointed bodyguard stood just a few feet away, keeping a close watch, but it did little to ease the fear that crept into his veins.

He wasn't used to this, being surrounded by so much power and danger, and the intimidation pressed down on him.

He swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing, but every second felt like an eternity. He couldn't help but wish Minho were already there.

And then, the door opened. Minho entered the room, commanding immediate attention. He was calm, collected, but the aura around him radiated dominance. Jisung's eyes darted to him, relief washing over him at the sight.

Minho approached him with a small smirk curling on his lips, his eyes softening just a bit as they landed on Jisung.

"Hi, kitten," Minho greeted, his voice low and affectionate, causing a shiver to run down Jisung's spine.

Jisung looked up, his heart thudding in his chest as he met Minho's gaze.