Whispers of Desire || Woosan🔞

32: Doll?

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            ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

San’s phone buzzed, pulling him out of the haze of his thoughts. Hongjoong’s name flashed on the screen.

“I think I’ve got something,” Hongjoong’s voice came over the line, low and serious. “Come to the secondary location. I need you to see this yourself.”

San’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like surprises, but he trusted Hongjoong always. Within minutes, he was striding into a warehouse far darker than his Paris holdings. Dust swirled in the shafts of weak fluorescent lights, the scent of iron and old machinery filling the air.

Hongjoong was waiting for him, hands clasped behind his back, shadowed by the dim lights.

“This… might explain everything,” he said, voice rasping, a smirk playing across his face that San couldn’t quite decipher.

San’s eyes narrowed. “Explain what?”

“Follow me,” Hongjoong said simply, turning on his heel and leading San through the labyrinth of crates and abandoned equipment. The echoes of their footsteps bounced against the walls, each step heavier than the last.

Finally, they reached a large steel door at the end of the hall. Hongjoong stopped and turned to San, his grin widening. “Brace yourself.”

Before San could respond, the door creaked open. The dim light flickered across the room, revealing a figure suspended upside down by heavy chains.

The man’s hair was a dark brunette, matted and tangled, his face bruised and bloodied, cuts streaking across his jaw and cheekbones. His chest rose and fell with labored breaths, half-conscious and clearly in pain.

San froze. Something about the figure stirred a recognition he couldn’t immediately place. A familiar glint in the dark eyes, even through the swelling and blood.

“Hey doll,” Hongjoong’s voice purred, raspy and menacing, the words carrying a twisted intimacy that made the man wince violently.

San flicked a switch, and the lights flickered on fully, casting harsh shadows across the room. Every wound, every mark was illuminated.

San’s gaze softened slightly, not that anyone could have mistaken it for mercy. The man, despite his battered state, was striking. Strong cheekbones, sharp jawline, and eyes that still held a spark of defiance. Even in his pain, there was a beauty that refused to be dulled.

“Meet my masterpiece,” Hongjoong announced, stepping closer. “Park Seonghwa.”

San’s eyes didn’t leave the figure. He didn’t speak, merely tilted his head slightly, giving Hongjoong the silent signal to continue.

Hongjoong chuckled, a low, chilling sound that echoed off the concrete walls. “I nabbed him during that… little deal with Jay. ( chapter 17) Thought he had escaped, didn’t you? Thought the Yakuza’s finest would slip through our fingers? Little did he know, he was walking straight into my trap.”

Seonghwa’s chest rose unevenly, a small groan escaping his lips as he tried to shift against the chains. His brown eyes, even bloodied and bruised, flickered toward San, wary but curious, a flicker of recognition igniting in their depths.

Hongjoong paced slowly in front of the suspended man, his shadow dancing on the walls. “I kept him here, mind you. For weeks. Tore him apart, piece by piece, until he finally… broke. Tortured him until he finally spilled everything about the Yakuza, every plan, every secret, every ally and traitor.”