In Chains and Shadows || Heehoon

The Mistake

Sunghoon's life had always been defined by control and routine. To an outsider, he was a picture of calm, effortlessly graceful, the embodiment of quiet focus. Every day had its purpose, every hour meticulously planned: mornings started with yoga, afternoons filled with dance classes, and nights spent perfecting routines he couldn't get out of his head. It was his way of maintaining order, of shaping his world into something he could rely on.

There was a beauty in repetition, Sunghoon believed, a certain peace in knowing what came next. Living alone in a small but meticulously organized apartment, he found comfort in the quiet, in the steady hum of his life. When he danced, he felt free, but not in the chaotic, reckless way others might imagine freedom. For Sunghoon, it was a freedom rooted in precision, in knowing exactly where each movement would take him.

Yet for all his poise, Sunghoon sometimes sensed a world beyond the boundaries he'd created, a darker, rougher world that existed in the corners of the city he avoided. He'd heard rumors—about the syndicates, about men whose power went unchecked, whose names were whispered with a mixture of fear and awe. But that world had nothing to do with him. It was someone else's life, someone else's fate.

Tonight, like every other night, Sunghoon was at the studio long after everyone else had left. The quiet, empty room was his sanctuary, and he could feel his body moving effortlessly through the choreography he'd spent hours perfecting. The music filled his mind, drowning out everything else, and for a while, he was lost in it, the way only dancers could understand.

It was nearly midnight by the time he finally left, the streets quiet under the soft glow of streetlights. As he walked, his mind replayed the routine, his feet unconsciously shifting with the beat still lingering in his mind. The city was nearly silent, and he liked it that way—a peaceful end to a long day.
But peace, he would soon learn, was not meant to last.
-

Across the city, Lee Heeseung sat in his office, his gaze fixed on the documents spread before him, though his mind was elsewhere. His world was nothing like Sunghoon's—it was one of power and violence, a world he controlled with an iron fist. For years, he'd built his syndicate from the ground up, navigating alliances and rivalries, climbing over anyone who dared stand in his way. He'd grown accustomed to the tension, the thrill of dominance, and the satisfaction of seeing others submit.

But there were always complications. Recently, another group had begun encroaching on his territory, led by a man named Mr. Kang. Kang was ambitious, bold enough to challenge Heeseung openly, and that alone was an insult Heeseung couldn't let slide.

The solution was clear: he needed leverage, something to force Kang to reconsider. Kang had a son, Jiho—a young man barely out of his teens but fiercely loyal to his father. If Heeseung had Jiho in his grasp, he could bend Kang to his will. The plan was simple, and Heeseung trusted Jae, his most loyal lieutenant, to carry it out. Heeseung rarely questioned Jae's judgment; they'd been through too much together.

"You know what to do," Heeseung had told him earlier that day. "Bring him here. I don't care how you do it, just make sure he understands who he's dealing with."

Jae had nodded, his expression unreadable. Heeseung didn't need to say more. Jae understood the gravity of the task, the importance of not failing. So when Jae returned that night, bowing slightly as he entered the room, Heeseung felt a surge of satisfaction.

"He's in the basement, boss," Jae reported, his tone steady.

"Good." Heeseung's mouth curled into a cold smile. "I'll deal with him personally."

As Heeseung descended the narrow staircase to the basement, a dark anticipation simmered within him. This was no ordinary punishment; it was a message, one that would echo through the city and remind everyone of his power. He pushed open the door, stepping into the dimly lit room where his captive awaited.

The young man sat in the center of the room, bound to a metal chair, his head lowered. His hair was messy, his clothes rumpled, and his wrists were red from the ropes binding him. Yet, even in such a state, there was an elegance to him, a strange beauty that struck Heeseung as he moved closer.

"So," Heeseung murmured, his voice dripping with contempt. "This is Mr. Kang's precious son."

At his words, the young man lifted his head, and Heeseung was momentarily taken aback. The defiance in his gaze, the sharpness of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes—it was all wrong. This was no ordinary target. He was fierce, almost regal, with a spirit that Heeseung hadn't expected.

The young man met Heeseung's gaze unflinchingly. "I don't know who you think I am," he said, his voice laced with a mixture of fear and defiance, "but you've made a mistake."

Heeseung raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Is that so? Because as far as I'm concerned, you're right where you're supposed to be."

A bitter laugh escaped the young man's lips. "You've got the wrong person. I'm not Kang's son. I don't even know who that is. My name is Sunghoon. Park Sunghoon."

"Nice try," Heeseung replied, his voice cold, dismissing the man's words with a wave of his hand. "But lying won't help you here. You're going to tell me everything I need to know about your father's plans."

Sunghoon swallowed hard, the weight of his situation settling over him. He'd heard stories about men like Heeseung, men who ruled the city's shadows, whose cruelty knew no bounds. But he'd never imagined he'd find himself face-to-face with one, much less accused of being someone he wasn't.

"I'm not lying," he insisted, his voice breaking slightly. "I'm not who you think I am. Please, you have to believe me."

But Heeseung only smirked, his gaze hardening. In his world, there was no room for mercy, no space for weakness. He had his target, and he would do whatever it took to break him.

-

The next few days passed in a blur of pain and confusion for Sunghoon. He had no idea where he was or why this was happening to him. All he knew was the relentless cycle of interrogation, the cold, unforgiving gaze of Heeseung, and the constant pressure to give answers he didn't have.

Heeseung, for his part, was growing impatient. No matter how hard he pushed, the young man remained defiant, refusing to reveal any information about his supposed father's plans. He found it infuriating, yet strangely admirable. The young man was resilient, almost too resilient for someone who had supposedly led a privileged life.

One evening, after a particularly tense interrogation, Heeseung found himself lingering outside the basement, his mind churning with frustration and doubt. Something didn't add up. Every instinct told him that Sunghoon was lying, that he was his rival's son, yet each time he looked into his captive's eyes, he saw only desperation and confusion.

"Are you sure he's Kang's son?" Heeseung finally asked Jae, who stood silently beside him, as calm and composed as ever.

Jae hesitated, a slight frown crossing his face. "He was at the location you specified, boss. Alone, at night. He matched the description—a young man, well-dressed, probably wealthy."

Heeseung's expression darkened. "You're saying you guessed?"

Jae's gaze flickered. "I... assumed, boss. He was the only one there, and he seemed like the right target."

For a moment, Heeseung felt a surge of anger. He'd trusted Jae, and now it seemed that trust had led him to a dangerous mistake. If this young man truly wasn't Kang's son, then Heeseung had spent the past week torturing an innocent person.

The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth. Heeseung had always prided himself on his ruthlessness, his ability to make the hard decisions, but this was different. This was a mistake—one that could have devastating consequences if it ever became known.

He turned away, his mind racing. He could hardly release Sunghoon now; he'd seen too much, knew too much. But the thought of continuing to punish him for a crime he hadn't committed left Heeseung with a strange, uncomfortable feeling. He wasn't a man who cared about morality, yet something about this situation felt... wrong.

For the first time in his life, Heeseung felt a pang of doubt, a crack in the armor he'd spent years building. He couldn't deny the truth any longer: he'd made a mistake, and Sunghoon was paying the price for it.