Crimson Threads || Soonhoon

Nueve

Jihoon stood alone in the dimly lit training room, his posture relaxed, his fingers steady as they squeezed the trigger. Every shot hit the bullseye, the sound of metal slicing through the air like a rhythm. Each bullet embedded itself perfectly into the target, no hesitation, no wasted movements. His accuracy was terrifyingly precise, a testament to years of practice. Even with one hand casually resting on his waist, he was in full control.

The room was heavy with the scent of gunpowder and the silence that followed each perfect shot. Jihoon’s eyes narrowed, focused on the target as though it was the only thing that mattered in the world. Compliments often rolled off his back, but even he had to acknowledge the lethal grace he had cultivated over the years. His shooting was second nature now—flawless, unerring, a perfect extension of his will.

His phone buzzed, breaking the silence. Jihoon glanced at it, pulling it from his pocket, eyes still half-focused on the target. The screen flashed with a message. It was someone from his network, informing him of a new mission. But something was off. The details were sparse, but the location—a warehouse near the docks—made his instincts flare.

He could feel a cold, heavy sensation settling in his gut.

There was no mention of Soonyoung, but Jihoon knew better. When Soonyoung was involved, there was always a bloodbath. And this felt like something Soonyoung would orchestrate—a trap, a test, or just another twisted way to get closer to Jihoon.

Jihoon left the training room, his movements fluid and unhurried. He slipped into his jacket, checking the concealed weapons he always carried, before heading out. The drive was short, the darkness of the city swirling around him like a protective shroud. The streets felt suffocating, as though the weight of what was coming pressed down on him, but Jihoon kept his face impassive.

As he approached the docks, the air grew colder. Shadows stretched longer, the warehouse looming like a silent predator. The moment he stepped inside, Jihoon felt the shift—like a presence, unseen but heavy. The stench of death clung to the air. Soonyoung had been here.

He moved further into the warehouse, his footsteps echoing. It was eerily quiet, but Jihoon knew better than to trust that. He turned a corner, and there he was—Soonyoung, standing in the middle of the room, his back to Jihoon. Blood splattered across the floor, pooling around the body of a man who had once been alive but now lay in a grotesque heap.

Soonyoung hadn’t just killed him. He had carved him up, mutilated him in a way that suggested more than just the need to end a life. This was personal, deliberate, a display of Soonyoung’s monstrous nature.

Jihoon’s eyes hardened as he took in the scene. He knew Soonyoung’s obsession ran deep, but this was something else entirely. The boy had been young, too young to be tangled up in any of this, and yet here he was—slaughtered simply because he had the misfortune of crossing Soonyoung’s path while Jihoon was on his mind.

"You killed him for looking at me," Jihoon’s voice was cold, accusatory, but not surprised.

Soonyoung turned slowly, his face almost serene, as though he hadn’t just committed a brutal murder. His eyes gleamed with something dark and twisted. There was no remorse in him, no regret. Just the raw, burning obsession that Jihoon had come to expect.

"He deserved it." Soonyoung’s voice was low, and there was a dangerous edge to it, a casual malice that made Jihoon’s stomach churn. "He looked at you. He thought he could breathe the same air as you."

Jihoon’s jaw tightened, but he kept his distance. Soonyoung’s unpredictability made him dangerous, even to someone as skilled as Jihoon. He had seen what Soonyoung was capable of—knew the depths of his madness. But despite that, Jihoon could feel the sickening pull of Soonyoung’s obsession. The psychopath didn’t just want to control or possess him. He wanted Jihoon’s undivided attention, and he would burn the world down to get it.

"Soonyoung," Jihoon began, keeping his voice even, "you can’t just—"

"Yes, I can." Soonyoung interrupted, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I can do whatever I want if it means keeping you safe. If it means keeping you close." He stepped forward, his voice lowering into a twisted whisper. "They don’t deserve to look at you, touch you, be anywhere near you."

Jihoon held his ground, his fingers twitching toward the knife at his belt, but he didn’t draw it. Not yet. "You're delusional."

Soonyoung laughed, a dark, hollow sound. "Am I? Or am I the only one who sees the truth?"

For a moment, they stood in silence, the air between them thick with tension. Soonyoung’s eyes were locked onto Jihoon, burning with a feverish intensity. And Jihoon knew, deep down, that Soonyoung was right about one thing—he was the master of this game. Soonyoung might be the monster, but Jihoon held the reins.

"I’ll make this simple for you," Jihoon said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "If you keep killing people just because they’re in the same room as me, you’re going to end up dead yourself."

Soonyoung’s smirk widened, but there was a wildness in his eyes now. "Then I’ll kill them all."

Jihoon felt a chill creep up his spine. Soonyoung wasn’t just obsessed; he was completely and utterly gone. There was no reasoning with him, no drawing a line he wouldn’t cross. Jihoon knew what had to be done, but as he looked into Soonyoung’s eyes, he felt a flicker of something—something dark, something dangerous.

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-Rix
Bro's brain is f*cked up!😀