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2i1han · 1 month ago

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RƎVO⅃UTION: Underground Outlaws : M.J.H

con heartist | myung jaehyun

swindler!jaehyun x f!reader (as yeonsoo)

wc : 12k

plot : jaehyun is a street-savvy pickpocket and swindler surviving in a run-down street. when you, a rich girl, wander into his turf to visit your sick brother, jaehyun targets you for an easy con.

🎧 : gambler , formula , black madonna

contains : deception, illegal activities, manipulation, morally grey characters, gritty urban setting, reader is 'gullible', jaehyun is kinda musty lol, intentional plot inconsistency, little to no romance is happening in here (maybe if you squint a little) mainly focusing on crime

a/n : the first installment of underground outlaws is finally here! i actually began working on this even before posting the series masterlist, so y'all won’t have to wait too long between updates. i hope you enjoy it! i did quite a bit of research on how these illegal operations work in order to make the fanfic kinda accurate, so i hope this lives up to your expectations somehow.

UNDERGROUND OUTLAWS MASTERLIST

your life wasn’t always marble tubs and marble walls. it didn’t start with tailored dresses, floor-to-ceiling windows, and high-speed elevators that lifted you up to the top floor. no—your life began in a cramped, mildew-scented apartment with peeling wallpaper and thin walls that echoed your parents’ drunken fights deep into the night.

your parents drank more than they ate. they’d scream over overdue bills, then blow what little money they had on affairs, cigarettes, and the next bottle of cheap liquor. you remember the sound of shattering glass. the way your mother's perfume mixed with alcohol when she stumbled in late. your father’s boots stomping on beer cans in the hallway. it was chaos.

and through all that, your older brother—the one who was supposed to be your anchor—drifted too. he protected you, sure. he'd step between you and a blow meant for your face. but when the night came, he'd slip out with his hood up, joining the other lost kids on the street. he got in trouble, bruised his knuckles more than his pride, and stole from addicts to feed you both. he was your savior and your curse all at once.

while they lose sanity, you buried yourself in textbooks. worn, secondhand pages marked with someone else’s dreams. you memorized facts while sirens blared outside. you studied to the sound of your parents’ arguments and your brother’s heavy footsteps sneaking in before dawn. you worked your way out of that pit, climbing with nothing but raw willpower and bloodied fingernails.

and now, you lie submerged in warm water inside a massive marble bathtub. their froth clinging to your skin like milk. the golden lighting overhead casts a soft glow, highlighting the soft lines of your body beneath the surface. a half-finished martini rests on the polished marble side-table nearby. you earned this life. every piece of it through plain wit and patience.

the bath drains with a soft whirl, and you rise from the water, steam swirling around you. droplets glide down your skin, tracing along your collarbone and lower back. you grab a fluffy towel from the heated rack. one for your body, another for your long, dark hair. as you wrap yourself up, your feet sink into the warm plush of the rug beneath you. the bathroom smells of jasmine body wash, rosehip oil, expensive serums neatly arranged on the black marble counter.

you pause by the wide mirror, rubbing your hair dry, catching your reflection. your face is beautiful, refined, almost deceptive in its softness. beneath your eyes, no trace of the tired girl you once were. strong. fit. clean. you have everything now. everything except for one thing.

a sudden buzz cuts through the silence. the sharp vibration hums against the marble countertop. you glance down as you read your brother's name flashes on the screen.

your hand stills mid-motion, towel bunched in your fist. you don’t reach for the phone. you just stare at it, watching it ring until it stops. but then, it buzzes again. this time, you reach for it. you swipe right just before the last ring fades, lifting the phone to your ear, eyes still locked on the mirror.

you don’t say anything. you just waited for the other end to speak.

"yeon?" a gravelly, croaking voice spoke through the speaker. it’s hoarse, and ugly. a throat marinated in years of cheap beer and cigarettes. you almost don’t recognize it.

"what do you want?" you muttered, not out of malice, but just tired instinct. you’re ready to end the call. ready to hand over whatever it is he's after. money, maybe or bail, again.

"i don’t want anything," he says, coughing mid sentence, the sound making your throat itch. "i’m sick. and i just… i wanted to talk. before the inevitable happens."

your heart doesn't exactly break, but it weakened. the voice doesn’t sound like your brother. it sounds like a man decades older, worn down by a life he never escaped. your mind reels back to when his face shielded you from your father’s fists. the way he’d hold your wrist tightly when you cried, whispering "stay quiet" while the walls trembled from shouting. him skipping school to sell your mother’s hidden stash so you could afford exam fees and instant noodles.

you hated him for it. but you needed him. and he never let you go hungry.

"okay." you said plainly. eyes shimmering under the bathroom light.

"still the same place," he adds before you can ask. "the old apartment. same street."

you nod even though he can’t see you. your chest feels tight. the old apartment—a place raided by swat after your parents overdosed. he never left. he stayed in that cursed space.

"i’ll be there tomorrow," you say, and you end the call before the crack in your voice can escape your mouth. for a moment, you just stare at your reflection again. the woman you’ve become. the woman he once tried to protect.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

when you woke up, you didn't rush getting ready. you took your time, brushing through emails with a half-full cup of cold brew, clearing your calendar for the day.

you pulled together what you considered a "simple" outfit, though nothing about it was truly ordinary. a crisp white blazer hung perfectly on your shoulders, paired with a silk cream camisole that clung delicately to your figure. flared high-waisted trousers elongated your legs, the hem hanging by your nude heels. a pair of minimalist gold earrings caught the sunlight by the window as you clasped them on, along with a matching necklace around your neck. simple but undeniably expensive. your long, glossy black hair flowed in soft waves down your back, freshly curled and scented with oud. you slid on your shades, picked up your leather handbag, then walked out.

outside the high-rise building, the city shimmered. sleek, mirrored towers stretched endlessly into the sky, casting reflections on polished luxury cars gliding through the street. your own ride, a black sedan with tinted windows was parked out front. the valet tipped his head, opening the door as you stepped inside.

but when the car turned a few corners after almost half an hour of ride, everything shifted. as you pulled into the street of your childhood, the contrast hit you like a slap across the face.

the air was different here. thick with smog and cigarette smoke, mixed with the acrid scent of burning plastic from some trash fire nearby. garbage overflowed from bins, huge rats darting into alley shadows. the buildings were no longer pristine; they were hollowed-out carcasses of forgotten lives. shuttered shops, rusting fire escapes, graffiti-scarred walls. broken beer bottles glinted under the sun like jagged jewels scattered across the cracked concrete.

you stepped out. your heel sank slightly into the uneven, gravel-strewn ground. crunch, another step, more crunch. you walked without stumbling. your posture didn’t bend for the decay around you, nor you flinch when a group of sketchy onlookers turned their heads your way, eyes trailing over your figure like wolves spotting a doe.

familiar sights—if you could still call them that—passed by in your periphery. the old convenience store still stood, miraculously still alive despite being robbed too many times before. the same metal roller shutters, coated in old and fresh graffiti. most doors had been broken in, boarded up with planks, or just left to rot. you couldn’t even recognize some of the places anymore. this street got even worse, you thought bitterly. like it had been cursed to age faster than the rest of the world.

and, unbeknownst to you, you were being watched.

across the road, a man lingered on the edge of the street—a thin, scruffy figure with short black hair slicked back with grease and sweat. he wore a grimy denim jumpsuit with one strap hanging loose over a dingy white shirt stained from days of wear and rust. a spray bottle in one hand, a rag in the other. he’d been wiping windshields for money no one offered, scamming car owners by pointing them toward his crew’s overcharging "repair shop."

but the moment he saw you, it's as if he saw a pot of gold—no, a vault of diamonds

you obviously didn’t belong here. and in his eyes, you weren’t a person, you were an opportunity. a walking vault. he let the car he was working on drive off unpaid and began tailing you from a distance, like a predator quietly observing his prey. he stayed behind posts, shadowing your every step without you noticing. you looked too polished, and too clean. a rich girl with some mysterious agenda. easy victim.

then, he saw you halt on your steps. you stopped in front of a run-down apartment building. weather-beaten, its windows fogged by grime, one of the balcony railings bent as if twisted by brute force. he ducked behind a power pole and watched as you disappeared inside. what the hell is someone like her doing here? he thought. and in the time you walked up the building, he was already plotting. already building a strategy to rob you blind.

meanwhile, inside, you climbed each stair, creaking under your light weight, groaning with age. the metal railing looked sticky to touch, coated in years of rust and crud. the air grew heavier the higher you went.

then, finally, you stopped in front of a familiar door. twisted, rusted, and barely hanging on its hinges. the number "5" was bolted at the top, discolored and corroded. you raised your hand and knocked. the sound echoed like metal against bone.

then door creaked open. and there he was—your brother. you almost didn’t recognize him. his frame had rotted. cheeks shurnk sharply around his cheekbones, his skin pale and yellowed. hollow eyes met yours with surprise—then with subtle joy. his collarbones protruded like blades, and his spine seemed to show right through the skin at the back of his neck.

"sis," he rasped with a half-smirk. "come in—" he paused, eyes trailing down your outfit. a flicker of shame crossed his face. "i'm sorry... you might want to brace yourself. please, come in."

you stepped in. the door closed behind you with a groan, the rusty hinges creaking.

the stench hit your nose instantly—mold, rot, old cigarettes, and something else you couldn’t identify. the wallpaper had peeled off entirely in some places, the bare walls now streaked with black mold and water damage. a leak dripped from the ceiling into a bucket. the wooden floor was warped and splintering. the couch, if you could call it that, had stuffing spilling from every seam. springs stuck out like bones. the kitchen smelled like it hadn’t known real food in years.

he slumped back onto the sofa like opening the door had drained what little energy he had left. you stood there, taking it all in. and before you could say anything, his voice broke the silence.

"yes," he said, "this is how i live. i never moved out."

you swallowed, walking toward the opposite couch. it sagged beneath you when you sat, and the spring groaned under your weight. still, you kept your posture straight, legs crossed.

"so," you said evenly, "what do you want to talk about?"

he let out a soft huff. half-laugh, half-exhale. "just... anything." his smile was small and sincere. "it's been so lonely, yeon. if i ever die—i just wanted one last real talk with my little sister."

you stared at him, your chest tightening. he was still the same boy who shielded you from your father’s fists. the same one who fed you by selling stolen pills. the same boy who sent you away, told you to run, while he stayed behind to rot. and despite everything, you still remembered the warmth of his arm around you, telling you it’d be okay when it never was.

so you talked. about work, life, the world you now lived in. the people you met. he listened like he’d been starving for human connection, like every word you said fed something inside him that had long been dead.

and as time passed, you finally said the thing you hadn’t planned to. "i'm getting you out of here," you said firmly. "we’ll find a hospital. get you cleaned up. a new place. somewhere to start again."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

a few buildings away, the crook sat crouched beside a rust-stained post, biting at a fingernail while eyeing the apartment you'd gone into. minutes ticked by like hours. he shifted, restless, just about ready to call it off until he saw you stepping out of the building, still regal despite the filth around you. and that was his cue.

he scrambled up to his feet and bolted toward the corner repair shop, his homeboy's haunt. slipping inside like how he rehearsed in his head. he snatched the nearest wrench and took his place beside a jacked-up car, pretending to inspect the axle. he grabbed a busted phone from the cabinet they always used for schemes. his friend behind the counter gave him a puzzled look until the man winked twice.

as if some secret code, the friend blinked back, then nodded in understanding, giving him an "okay" gesture as he casually leaned into his role. all systems go.

then—his sharp hearing heard the click of your heels coming near.

tap. tap. tap.

he stepped out suddenly, just as you passed, timing it perfectly, and, bullseye. you gasped, your heel twisting on a crack in the pavement, and you lurched backwards. your bag swung, your hand flailed, and you completely lost balance. a phone them clattered to the ground with a sharp crack, screen shattering on impact.

before your body could hit the concrete, he caught you. a strong hand gripped your waist, stopping your fall. his face was too close you could smell him immediately—sweat, a trace of rust, and a strange musky perfume that somehow didn't make you grimace. his white shirt clung to his chest, nearly translucent with sweat and wear, each rust stain zoomed right in front of you.

you blinked up at him, caught in his eyes longer than you meant to. something about the sheen of sweat on his collarbone and the sharp cut of his jaw made your stomach flutter.

"are you okay?" he asked.

you snapped back with flushed cheeks. you shoved his hand off, straightening up and brushing imaginary dust off your clothes.

"get off," you muttered, half under your breath, but he heard it.

"sorry. didn't see you coming," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, feigning sheepishness.

you nodded stiffly, still adjusting yourself when your eyes landed on the phone, lying face down and cracked.

"your phone..." you said, pointing at it.

he followed your gaze. for a second, his face gloomed, but then he forced a smile and crouched to pick it up, brushing the cracked screen with his thumbs.

"it's fine," he said. "was the only one i used for work, but... i'll figure something out. cheap replacements are easy to find."

guilt immediately swelled inside you. without thinking, you reached into your bag and pulled out your wallet. he saw this, and behind his humble smile, a glint of victory passed through his eyes but just as you started counting bills, he waved his hands, slipping right back into character.

"no, no, miss. don't. it's really my fault."

"how much?" you asked, already thumbing through the bills.

he was seconds away from naming a price, or maybe a sob story, but then he saw back to the way your eyes trailed on him. the blush in your cheeks. the small, unconscious tilt of your head. you weren't just guilty, you were charmed. his mind clicked fast. he just can't settle for a few bills, he needs more of you—plan b.

"really, it's okay," he insisted, reaching out and deliberately wrapping his hand around your wrist gently, lowering it back toward your bag. his skin was rough, but his touch wasn't.

"i have a job," he added. "i can find a way."

he looked tired, worn down, but sincere in your eyes. that look made the guilt in you twist harder. you slowly placed the wallet back, eyes still on him.

"can i at least make up for the phone?" you asked again, genuinely.

he grinned. this was the perfect opening. "no, really," he said, shaking his head. "don't worry about a dumb phone. you should worry about yourself. it's a seedy street, you know?"

he paused, then tilted his head a little. "miss...?"

"oh," you said, realizing. "nam yeonsoo."

"shin myungjae," he replied, with a charming smile. "i'm myungjae."

you then gave him a small nod. "well... then, mr. shin. i'd love if we could exchange contacts. just... in case you change your mind."

he chuckled, lifting the ruined phone and turning it in his hand. "well i would, if only i had a phone."

"oh... right," you said, lips pursing in embarrassment. "well... how about—"

"how about we go out for a meal tomorrow?" myungjae cut you off.

you narrowed your eyes playfully. "would that make up for the phone?"

"definitely," he said with a half-smirk. "i haven't had a proper meal in so long. i'd appreciate a good one."

"meal over payment, huh," you said, one brow raised. "sounds sus."

"just being practical," he replied, confident. "besides, i think a good meal with good company is worth more than a few bills."

you let out a soft huff. "if you call that practical, then i don't think you'll be living in places like this for much longer."

"we'll see," he said with strange confidence that made you flinch back subtly. you stared for a moment, blinking, then smiled. "so, i guess i'll pick you up here at dinner tomorrow?"

"nope," he said, "breakfast, lunch, and dinner. that'd make it fair."

you scoffed, laughing under your breath. "of course. alright, 8 a.m. sharp, right here."

"noted," he said, turning back toward the shop, then glancing over his shoulder.

"see you, miss nam."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

"good morning, miss nam."

myungjae’s voice came with a teasing lilt, his smirk curving on his lips as he stepped out from the same greasy repair shop he’d emerged from yesterday.

you stepped down gracefully, gravel crunching under your stiletto. sunglasses tucked atop your head, hair loose and tumbling like you hadn’t spent an hour perfecting it.

myungjae’s gaze skimmed down your figure to your bag, different from the one you carried yesterday, but still unmistakably high-end. then to the necklace, and the watch that are cooler-toned gold today, still minimalist. you weren’t flashy, but your appearance screamed money.

"you’re dressed up," you remarked, eyes sweeping over him.

his hair had clearly been washed, now worn down with bangs that gently framed his face. he had on a white sweater with bold black graphics scattered across it, paired with baggy, distressed jeans. simple streetwear but somehow looked handsome on him. he looked annoyingly good for someone who lived in the gutter.

myungjae looked down at his clothes, then back at you with a self-satisfied smirk. "it’s the best in my closet."

"you make any clothing suit you anyway," you replied with a faint shrug. "let’s get this over with. i already booked a café." you opened the backseat door, pausing. "front or back, your call."

without hesitation, he went to the front door, opening it before glancing at you with a smirk. the driver, a sharp-eyed older man with graying hair and a stoic expression barely blinked as myungjae settled beside him. you slid into the back, crossing your legs.

from the back seat, you caught a glimpse of myungjae’s composed expression and felt an involuntary flicker of approval. he knew how to move in spaces that weren’t his.

"vienne & co." you told the driver, who responded with nothing more than a nod before pulling out into the street.

the drive stretched long enough for myungjae to nearly doze off, the city changed the farther you drove. run-down alleys transitioning to clean sidewalks, high-end boutiques, polished glass towers. myungjae looked out the window, silently observing the outside while his mind was already in work mode.

the café was nestled between luxury flats and corporate buildings, its name etched in sleek white font above a wide glass entrance. as the car stopped, he stepped out and circled around just as you reached for the door.

you smirked as you stepped out. "hm. a gentleman, are you?"

"i’m just a mere peasant, miss—"

"yeonsoo," you cut in, glancing up at him. "just call me by my name."

a flicker of surprise passed through myungjae’s expression. then he nodded, smiling. "right, yeonsoo."

the two of you walked side by side toward the entrance as the driver pulled away to park. inside, the café was a blend of nordic minimalism and modern wealth. white marble floors, soft jazz, oversized windows that bathed everything in sunlight. patrons talked in crisp accents, tapping on expensive laptops, and sipping imported teas.

myungjae took it all in with a quiet awe he didn’t bother hiding. he followed you to a table near the window and sat across from you, still scanning the room in hushed awe. "this looks like a penthouse disguised as a cafe," he muttered under his breath.

"it’s my favorite in the city," you replied, already flipping through the sleek leather-bound menu. myungjae mirrored your action, brow furrowed.

"we don’t go up to the counter here?" he asked.

"no. just pick what you want."

he took a second longer than necessary, pretending to read while actually planning the next ten moves in his head. eventually, you lifted your hand, catching the attention of a server who approached with a smile.

"avocado toast with poached eggs and a lavender honey latte," you said. "and for you?"

he blinked, glancing down quickly. "uh... croque madame and an iced americano, please."

the waiter nodded, jotting it all down before retreating.

you leaned back in your seat, relaxed, and unbothered. myungjae, on the other hand, sat unnaturally stiff. even with his usual charm and swagger, he couldn’t stop the creeping feeling of self-consciousness. the bold print of his sweater and the distressed jeans suddenly felt flashy in this space. he glanced down at himself, then at the clean lines of the other patrons.

"hey," you said, noticing, voice low and careful. "you look cool. i like the outfit."

he looked up, caught off guard, then dropped his gaze again, a sheepish smile forming on his lips. "kind of eye-catching here but probably for the wrong reasons."

"no," you countered, propping your chin on your palm. your lashes lowered slightly, your voice softening like sugar. "it’s eye-catching for a good reason."

for a moment, myungjae forgot about his mission. your eyes looked through his, soft and glimmering. your lips, glossy and slightly parted, looked like twin berries. his gaze dropped to your mouth, then flicked back up to your eyes. he blinked, seemingly entranced by how you looked.

"oh-" he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous habit. "i don't think so..."

"if you insist," you replied with a small smile, letting him off the hook as you sat up straighter, reaching for your phone while waiting for the food to arrive.

myungjae turned his attention elsewhere, trying to distract himself and think. he gazed through the floor-to-ceiling window beside you. light poured in through the glass, glinting off silverware and polished surfaces. he glanced at you again, hair cascading over your shoulder, your profile peaceful, bathed in sunlight. calm, and serene

"is there something on my face?" you asked without looking up, already feeling his burning gaze on your forehead.

he blinked, caught again, and quickly recollected himself. he wasn’t here to beat around the bush, he was here to con you. he needed to get back into character.

"yes," he said smoothly, eyes narrowing just enough to make you curious.

you lifted your gaze from your phone, brows drawing together. "what?" your fingers gently tapped at your cheeks and chin, checking for smudges or crumbs.

then he leaned in. you didn’t move an inch. your eyes stayed on his, widening slightly as his hand came up, his thumb brushing along your temple in a gentle motion.

"beauty," he said, the word curling out of his mouth as he leaned back again, settling into his chair with ease.

you should’ve rolled your eyes, should’ve felt secondhand embarrassment and cringed to that cheap, corny line. but the problem was, it wasn’t cheap coming from myungjae. it wasn’t forced. his charisma is natural.

still, you made a show of grimacing and wiped the spot he touched with exaggerated disgust, but in truth, your fingers merely traced the place, trying to re-feel the exact way he did it.

"know your place, mr. shin." you said coldly, clearing your throat and blinking to gather yourself just as the waiter returned with your orders.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

to your own surprise, you had a genuinely good time with him.

after the breakfast, the two of you wandered down the tree-lined streets near the edge of the luxury district. you didn’t notice how long you’d been walking. laughing at his sarcasm, and exchanging stories. then you slowed beside a shaded sidewalk, heels clicking softly on the pavement.

"why..." you tilted your head toward him, expression curious but glimmering with intent, "do you live in that kind of place?"

he then looked sideways at you.

"you’re such a decent man to be living somewhere so dangerous," you added.

myungjae’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer, watching the way your lips curved with concern, your eyes catching the sunlight. something about you made him want to grin. not just because you were beautiful, but because you were so painfully naive.

he let out a breath and looked away, his expression fading into faux sadness. "my mom’s sick," he said, voice lower now. "she’s been bedridden for a while. and we’ve had debts piling up for years. it’s the only place we could afford."

he sighed again, slowing his steps.

"i work as a mechanic," he added, the story coming out so natural from his lips like it’s not rehearsed a thousand times. "barely scraping enough to cover meds. rent’s overdue half the time. and that phone? it wasn’t even mine. just borrowed it from a friend who probably wants it back now that it’s smashed."

you stopped for a second, brows softly furrowing, heart tensing at the edges. there was something about the way he said it all—honest, unashamed, raw. or maybe you were just letting yourself believe it, because it felt better than doubting him.

your hand reached out, almost instinctively, and tapped his back. "i’m sorry," you murmured. "you could’ve just taken the payment, you know? you didn’t have to act so noble."

his steps paused as he turned to you fully. there was a moment where his face changed. something between amusement and something more complicated. but he masked it perfectly.

"i wouldn’t feel right taking money for something i broke," he said, then gently reached out and patted your head. "you’re too kind, yeonsoo."

you flinched slightlt, then smiled up at him. "i’m kind because you are."

you stopped beside a quiet alley where sunlight spilled between the gaps in tall buildings, casting thin gold streaks onto the pavement. you turned to face him, full of sincerity that made something sharp twist in his chest.

"i find you really charming and nice, myungjae," you said, voice low and open. "i can feel it. you’re resilient. i can tell you’ve been through things, and still turned out to be someone good."

you reached up and gently tapped his arm, your thumb brushing along the edge of his sleeve. for a second, he didn’t know what to feel. the excitement of luring you in, of peeling open a beautiful, glittering vault of a woman was intoxicating. but now, feeling your warmth and sincerity, it suddenly felt messier. was he being greedy?

he forced a slow exhale,smiled again, then he kept walking. you caught up beside him, the quiet clicking of your heels syncing with his boots.

"can we keep doing this?" he asked. "even after today?"

you turned to him, beaming. "of course."

"i’d like to know you more," he added. it didn’t sound rehearsed this time. that was the problem.

"i’ll come to you often," you nodded. "or you can come to my place. we can hang out in my penthouse, maybe. i’ll show you around."

he smirked. "or both. i’ll visit you… and you can visit me."

you nodded again, lips curving. "sounds good."

it all went on with the two of you just strolling from place to place. after brunch, you both eventually returned to the car, sitting back into the plush leather seats, and the plan was simple: drop myungjae back to his street, say your goodbyes, and carry on with your day.

but just as the driver shifted gears, myungjae leaned in toward your window with gleaming, mischievous eyes.

"stay for the afternoon," he said, grinning. "there's more of my world i want to show you. besides..." he tilted his head. "you still owe me dinner, remember?"

you exhaled through a smile. there wasn't anything particularly urgent waiting for you.

"fine," you said, opening the door again. "seven. my driver picks me up at seven."

he stepped back as you climbed out, the air was thick with the usual gutter reek. smoke, rot, something burning far too close to plastic. you ignored it, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you walked alongside him. he led you through the sketchy neighborhood like a proud local tour guide, introducing you to buildings and corners as if you hadn't grown up just blocks away.

as you passed corners and alleyways, a few men called out to him—gruff voices from half-shaded doorways and broken porches. they wore tattered clothing, smoke curling from the cigarettes between their fingers, and their stares were the kind that’d make most women clutch their bags tighter.

but myungjae wasn’t fazed. he returned their nods casually. and even though he dressed like them, same style, same setting, rough and loose, he somehow radiated something more entrancing, and charismatic. he didn’t look threatening like they did, but rather magnetic, and that's his biggest advantage.

when you reached the repair shop, he gestured toward the entrance with a simple, "come on."

the inside was cramped, barely wide enough to fit two cars side by side. the floor was plain, worn cement riddled with hairline cracks and oil spills that had settled into permanent stains on the ground. tools were scattered in corners and bins, wires dangled from rusted hooks, and the whole place smelled of rust, metal, and machine grease.

"this is where i work," he said, rubbing the back of his neck again. an involuntary tic he always seemed to do when he was being embarrassed.

he then nodded toward the man behind the counter. a lanky boy who glanced up at your presence and immediately straightened.

"and this is my brother, inho." the man quickly bowed at you, his smile is polite, and almost cautious, like he was unsure how to act around someone like you. you then nodded back with the same polite restraint

myungjae nudged his head toward him. "inho, get her a chair."

without hesitation, the boy moved to grab a plastic stool. he gave it a quick, stiff wipe with a nearby rag before placing it in what was probably the cleanest spot he could find. somewhere near the wall, away from dripping tools and stained surfaces. you sat down, crossing your legs neatly.

"you alright over there?" myungjae asked as he pulled on a glove and started tidying up one of the shelves. the metal clanked loudly as he shifted through the pile.

you gave him a small nod, your eyes still scanning the room. eyeing every dent and stain.

"you're probably uncomfortable here," he added, glancing over his shoulder. "not used to this kind of environment. sorry about that."

"not at all," you said quickly, waving a hand to dismiss the idea. "i'm fine."

his brow lifted. "you coming here often?"

he looked at you then, not just curious, but with that confident face again. the way he narrowed his eyes made it feel like he was testing you, waiting to hear an answer he already knows before you could even say it.

you paused for a second, considering your answer.

"no," you said. "just once. it was yesterday, when i visited someone. nothing important."

he nodded, satisfied with your answer, then turned is attention back to the shelves. metal clanked against metal again.

"be careful around here," he warned after a beat, rising to full height with a smirk tugging at his lips. "swindlers are everywhere."

you smiled back, touched by the simple concern. "well," you said, propping your elbow on your crossed knee, "with you around, i guess i have nothing to worry about."

"that's right." myungjae nodded confidently. he looked too proud, like he had just earned your trust and was wrapping it around his fingers. "you’re in good hands."

myungjae kept you around for hours, entertaining you, and, you were genuinely entertained. the dinner also went better than you expected. conversation flowed easily, laughter came without force, and something about him made you feel at ease in a way most polished, proper men never could.

when it was time to leave, you told him you’d be gone for the next week. work business, meetings, boardrooms, the usual. he nodded, pretending to take it in stride, though his eyes lingered on yours for a second too long.

but less than twenty-four hours later, he spotted your black sedan pulling up by the auto shop.

he froze, then immediately ditched the half-flat tire he’d been flattening down for another trap. without even removing the gloves, he took off in a jog, cutting through the alley and around the corner, intercepting you before you could reach the door.

you stepped out of the car, hair pulled back in a low knot, shades perched atop your head. two wheeled luggage and a pair of designer handbags in tow. you glanced toward the repair shop only to find it momentarily empty.

then, from around the corner, myungjae came into view. sweat-slick hair swept back, still wearing the same dirty white shirt, collar stretched and faintly stained. the jumper slung over his shoulder, and a screwdriver still in hand.

"oh hey," you said with a smile. "why are you walking around with a screwdriver?"

"uh, fixing emergency tires on the next street," he replied, casually tossing it to the worktable behind him. "didn’t expect to see you so soon. thought we were doing this next week?"

his eyes flicked down to your belongings—two luxury suitcases, expensive leather handbags.

"you moving in or something?"

you glanced at your luggage, shrugging. "half of my penthouse is getting renovated."

"mhm," his lips curved into a smirk as he stepped a bit closer, eyes scanning the bags again, curious. probably imagining how many zeroes were attached to whatever was inside. "and what brings you here? couldn't find a better place to crash?"

"i needed somewhere to stay temporarily."

"right," he nodded, playing along. "hotels can be overpriced, and lonely too. at least here you’ve got... me."

"yeah," you smiled, looking around, "plus all this ambiance."

"come on," he grinned. "let me show you my crib."

he reached down and grabbed both suitcases in one swift motion, slinging one handbag over his shoulder as if they weighed nothing. then he led you down the sidewalk, just a minute’s walk from the auto shop.

you followed as he led you a short walk from the auto shop. the building you arrived at was, in a word, cooked. the brick walls were coated in grime and graffiti, the front door barely secured on its hinges. the metal fire escape above looked like one strong wind would send it crashing down on someone, and the single bulb inside was held together by black tape

but he didn’t take you upstairs, instead he went down underground, beneath the stairwell, past a rusted door that groaned open, into what you assumed would be a musty, basement-level hole. but to your surprise—his place wasn’t nearly as bad as you imagined.

the walls were a moody, deep brick red, lined with dark fixtures and the faint hum of led strip lights. there were no windows, but the neon glow gave the space a gritty charm. the sofa looked like it had seen better days. black, slightly worn, but intact. an old but functional mini-fridge hummed softly in the corner, next to a modest stovetop and a shelf stacked with mismatched mugs. the floor was clean. there was no rot. no stink.

it was cramped, sure, but not unlivable. myungjae saw the approval in your face and smirked.

"no bedroom," he said, dropping the luggage by one of the couches. "just the main space. we sleep here. but you can have that one."

he nodded toward the less ragged-looking couch, setting your handbag carefully on the armrest.

"thanks." you offered him a small smile. "do i have to pay for anything?"

"no," he said quickly. he could’ve taken that opening, charged you, leaned into your generosity, but something about the timing felt off. he was waiting for something bigger. "it’s all on me."

you nodded and set your other bag down on the couch, then took another moment to look around. that’s when his voice shifted.

"yeonsoo."

you turned, one brow raised.

he stepped closer, arms crossed loosely. "are you seriously choosing to stay at some random guy’s place in a shady neighborhood… instead of a luxury hotel? one you can afford? you met me four days ago."

his tone wasn’t mocking. it was almost concerned. like he genuinely couldn’t believe your choices.

"you could pay thousands for a suite with a view," he added. "i could be dangerous. you wouldn’t even know it."

you looked him straight in the eye, your expression steady and calm. no trace of hesitation nor fear. "i know you’re good," you said simply. "i can feel it."

then you walked past him, lowering yourself onto the sofa as if you weren’t in a questionably legal basement with a con man you barely knew. myungjae watched you blankly in contemplation.

you leaned back, crossing your legs. "and hotels are… soulless. empty. i’m already alone most of the time. but you," you looked up at him, eyes just faintly shimmering in the dim light, "you make me smile,and laugh like i haven’t in a long time."

for a moment, he didn’t speak. then slowly, he crossed the room and sat down on the opposite couch, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped. he leaned in slightly, close enough that the lighting carved a soft glow across your face.

"you’re too nice for your own good," he said quietly, brushing a thumb across your chin without thinking.

"no," you said, gently grabbing his hand and clasping it between both of yours. "it's all because you're being good."

your sincerity hit like a blow to the chest. he almost felt guilty for luring you into a con, for planning to rob you clean. there was something in your eyes like you could see right through the lies, and still chose to believe in him anyway. it made him feel bare. weak, even.

you weren’t the bratty rich girl he’d expected. no arrogant nose in the air, no dismissive tone or designer-clad entitlement. just kindness and delicacy. a fragile feather wrapped in gold, for a hot second, he wondered if some cosmic force had sent you, not as a target, but as a sign.

"what’s wrong?" you asked gently, scooting closer beside him. his expression had shifted, softened, and vulnerable.

"i’m... not-" he faltered, looking down in shame, hands now limp in your hold. "i’m not good, yeonsoo."

"you are." you assured him. your thumbs brushed over the veins on the back of his hand.

he looked up, lips barely moving. "i’m sorry," he whispered. "i’m not shin myungjae."

you blinked. "what do you mean?"

"my name’s jaehyun," he exhaled. "myung jaehyun."

"myung... jaehyun?" you repeated, tilting your head slightly.

he nodded. "yeah. that’s my real name."

you paused for a second, then blinked slowly. "why didn’t you just say so?"

"i’m a con man," he said, locking eyes with you.

you processed it for a bit, then you smiled to yourself, looking down, your hands still wrapped around his. "okay, so? you’ve already come clean. that’s what matters now."

jaehyun stared at you, confused. "you’re not mad?"

you shook your head, eyes soft. "not at all."

before he could respond, his phone buzzed in his pocket. you glanced down.

"you…" you gestured to the source of the sound.

"right, sorry." he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck before pulling the phone out and answering. it was inho. panicked, telling him to get to the shop immediately.

"i’ve gotta go," jaehyun said, rising to his feet. "stay here, make yourself comfortable. i’ll be back with inho."

"okay, be careful." you said, watching as he flashed you a grateful smile and turned to run.

by the time jaehyun arrived at the shop, it was chaos. the entire place was trashed. the mounted car was shattered, tools were strewn everywhere, shelves knocked over. not a single thing was spared.

inho was pacing, hands on his head, panic clear on his face. jaehyun stopped dead at the door, his eyes wide in shock.

"what the fuck happened here?!" he shouted, rushing inside, stepping over busted crates and broken glass.

inho spun around at his voice, guilt written all over his face. "dude- i don’t know! chul told me to check out a car left on the next street. said it was unattended, easy loot. but there was nothing. i searched every car, even triggered an alarm on one of them. i barely got away, and when i came back—this!" he gestured at the wreckage around them, breathing heavily. "it was already done."

jaehyun's face shifted, blinking. "chul?" he asked, huffing. "as in lee’s chul?"

inho winced. "yeah… i-i think so-"

"you-" jaehyun raked both hands through his hair, pacing in pure frustration. "you fucking idiot! you really thought it was a good idea to trust one of lee’s dogs?!"

"i- look, i didn’t know!" inho stammered, fingers fidgeting with his sleeves. "he sounded legit-"

"and you think anyone from lee’s gang is legit?!" jaehyun snarled. " for fuck's sake, inho!"

he turned again, surveying the damage. even the most expensive tools were smashed or stolen. they were done. screwed. the boss would have their heads.

"boss would skin both of us alive if this reaches him." he slammed a fist against the wall, then pulled open a drawer, retrieving a metal bat.

"jae- what are you doing?" inho ran after him.

"i’m going to their turf," jaehyun growled, cracking his neck as he stormed out. "i’ll break chul’s fucking jaw-"

"bro, no!" inho jumped in front of him. "you can’t just walk into their den swinging a bat! there’s, like, twenty guys there!"

"move," jaehyun snapped, shoving past him.

"are you trying to get yourself killed?!" inho grabbed him by the arms. jaehyun clenched his jaw but didn’t resist.

"i know i messed up, okay? i know i’m a dumbass for trusting that guy. but you picking a fight with lee’s crew is suicide!"

jaehyun then paused. he breathed heavily, bat still in hand, chest rising and falling. finally, he sighed. "fine, get off." he shoved inho’s hands away, tapping the bat against the ground like a warning before turning back.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the two returned to the wrecked shop. the sun had already set, and the place still looked like a war zone. they cleaned in silence for a while—sweeping, picking up shards, stacking whatever wasn’t ruined.

"what now?" inho muttered, crouching by a torn-up toolbox.

"we’ll figure it out," jaehyun murmured, eyes distant.

there was a moment of contemplation before inho’s expression lit up, like a lightbulb flickering on.

"your girl." he pointed at jaehyun, scooting over. "miss nam."

jaehyun didn’t respond, already knowing what's in his mind.

"dude. we need cash now. your girl has money, right? lots of it. use her."

jaehyun still didn’t look at him.

"just take what we need," inho pressed. "boss wants us to pay for this mess. then we dip after that."

"i can’t do that," jaehyun said under his breath. "she’s not a bank, inho."

inho stood up, throwing his rag to the floor. "what?! are you serious? that was the plan from the start!" inho shouted. "what happened? what changed?"

"i did." jaehyun finally looked up. "we’ll find someone else. not her."

inho scoffed, rubbing his face in disbelief. "bro, there’s an open vault beside you and you’re walking away like it’s nothing. don’t tell me you’re in love with that rich girl."

"i said shut up."

"come on, man!" inho sat down again, exhausted. "you think she’s gonna miss a few thousand? she probably spends that on candles."

"i said shut up!" jaehyun barked, standing abruptly. "i’ll figure something out. trust me."

the air hung thick with tension. neither of them spoke as they gathered what little was left, stuffing tools and fragments back into their places.

"come on," jaehyun muttered. "let’s go home."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you were peacefully going through your laptop when the door suddenly burst open. startled, you peered up, and there stood jaehyun and inho, both visibly pissed off. you didn’t need to be a genius to sense the tension radiating from their expressions.

rising from the floor, you greeted them cautiously. "something happen?"

inho opened his mouth, ready to spill everything, probably hoping to guilt you into covering damages, but jaehyun cut him off with a sharp glare.

"nothing," jaehyun said flatly. "just a rough day. some guys were being assholes." he collapsed onto the sofa with a grunt, the springs groaning beneath him. inho, meanwhile, stalked to the kitchen and downed a glass of water like he hadn’t had a drop all day.

setting the empty glass on the table with a dull thud, inho glanced back. "jae, i’ll be out front for a smoke." jaehyun nodded once. the door clicked shut behind him.

silence fell. you sat back down on the floor, staring miserably at your laptop screen. jaehyun cracked one eye open, noticing the troubled look etched on your face.

"what’s wrong?" he asked, sliding down from the sofa to sit across from you.

"work stuff." you sighed, pressing your palm to your forehead, elbow braced against the coffee table.

"you can talk to me about it," he offered. "i might not get all the technical stuff, but i’ll listen."

you gave him a quick glance, then exhaled. "there’s this other company," you began. jaehyun leaned in, listening with unexpected seriousness.

"they’ve been stealing formulas from my company. replicating them with cheaper, similar materials. then they sell them at lower prices and undercut us. our customers are buying those instead, and some are experiencing health issues. but i’m the one taking the fall because no one can tell the difference between ours and the knock-offs."

you leaned back, frustration heavy in your voice. "our stock’s tanking. we’re on the brink of lawsuits. if this keeps up, we’re finished."

jaehyun studied you for a moment, the weight of your burden sinking in. the privilege and wealth most saw in you hid the crushing responsibility underneath.

"is there... anything you can do?" he asked quietly.

you shook your head. "suing them’s risky. my past might be used against me. and there’s no guarantee their ceo hasn’t greased some palms already. even if we win, the controversy could still ruin us."

your voice cracked slightly as your eyes welled up. jaehyun scooted closer, placing a hand on your shoulder, his other patting your back gently as you leaned into him.

"so... the only way out is for that company to go bankrupt, huh?"

you looked up at him, worry etched across your face, quickly realizing where his mind was going.

"i’m not saying i want that," you murmured. "but yeah... if they fall first, i can fix things. rebuild. but- forcing them into bankruptcy? that feels…"

"let me handle it," jaehyun interrupted, finally having an idea.

you blinked at him as you looked up. "what?"

"i’ll con their ceo. extort him. drain his funds, he loses everything. we walk away clean, and you get your company back."

you stared at him, stunned. "but... does he deserve that?" you asked quietly. "the ceo, does he really?"

jaehyun met your eyes evenly. "you tell me. other than stealing your work, what else has he done?"

your mind replayed the facts. he plagiarized your formulas, cheapened them, sold them to the public, made people sick, and left you to take the heat. you clenched your jaw.

"i dug around," you said. "he’s neck-deep in underground gambling. word is, he’s blown millions already. keeps buying his way out of trouble."

jaehyun’s lips curled into a sharp, satisfied smirk. "then i won’t even have to break a sweat."

your brows furrowed. "are you really serious about this? jae, it’s dangerous. if this goes south, we’re both screwed."

"i know." he took your hands in his, his gaze steady. "but i need this. i’m drowning in debt. this is the only way i can help you, and save myself. the bad guy gets what’s coming, and we get a shot at justice."

you looked down at your hands, wrapped in his. "just... promise me you’ll be careful. pay off your debt. live a normal life after this, okay?"

"i will," jaehyun said, smiling softly. "i promise."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the light overhead flickered, casting the underground apartment in dim amber hues. you sat across from jaehyun at the narrow counter, the glow from your laptop screen illuminating your face. jaehyun flipped a matchbox between his fingers before finally pulling out a pen and scribbling names on the back.

"so you're telling me this silk-suited bastard sneaks into our street every thursday just to play cards?"

you nodded, eyes still on the screen. "that's what my brother found out. he keeps a low profile. baseball cap, no bodyguards. same rundown building, two corners from the old repair shop. thursday nights. same crew, same stakes."

jaehyun gave a low whistle. "didn't peg him for a street rat."

"he's not," you muttered. "he just likes the rush. no cameras, no records, no accountability. and it's packed with the kind of people who'd kill for a dollar."

he leaned back, matchbox still in hand. "then we give him what he's looking for. a rush, a game. and once he's deep enough, we cut the floor out from under him."

your eyes lifted. "and how exactly are you planning to do that?"

jaehyun tilted his head, like the answer was obvious.

"first, we bait him."

you raised a brow. the half-doubtful, half-intrigued look you gave him made his smirk deepen. he liked it when you looked at him like that.

"bait him... how?"

"i'll become the type he hates to lose to," he said, leaning forward. "flashy, loud, reckless. a guy who throws money like he doesn't know its worth."

he was already imagining it—expensive coat, fake rolex, stacks of cash, cocky grin.

"you don't exactly own a designer coat," you said dryly, lips twitching.

"that's where you come in." his eyes sparkled. "think your brother's guy can get me a forged id and a full rich-boy makeover?"

you paused. not because you doubted, but because part of you was afraid how good he'd be at it. "i can arrange it," you said.

"perfect." jaehyun grinned. "so i strut in, talk big, lose a few hands on purpose. let him think i'm just another rich idiot on a hot streak."

"and once he's confident?"

"i start winning," he said. "small at first, then a little bigger. i act like i've got some secret system, then make him chase it."

your fingers tapped lightly on the rim of your glass. "he'll take the bait?"

"addicts always do," jaehyun said. "winning isn't enough. they need to believe they can control it."

you nodded slowly. "so you dangle a bigger game?"

"exactly. higher stakes, bigger payouts. he won't be able to resist."

"and the game is rigged." you added up.

"from start to finish," he said. "your brother's guys play it clean, but they'll know when to lose, when to win, how to bleed him just right."

you stared at him for a moment. "and if he bets more than he can afford?"

jaehyun smiled. "that's the point."

you sat back, exhaling. "let's say it works. he loses millions. you walk away with the bag. what then?"

jaehyun tilted his head, pretending to think. "depends how greedy he is. if we play it right, he'll dip into the company's funds. when that happens, it's game over."

"but where do you even put that kind of money?" you asked. "you can't drop a few million into your street account. that'll get flagged in seconds."

"i've been thinking about an offshore account," jaehyun said, a little too casually.

you froze, the weight of the plan hitting harder now. "that's not a joke, jaehyun. if something goes wrong, you're not just a conman anymore. you're a target. a very rich one."

"i know." he met your eyes. "that's why i'll handle it myself. no slips."

you stared at him. "i might know someone," you finally said. "my brother used to work with a guy. helped launder money for people who make you look soft. i could reach out, but jae... if this fails- my name, my company, everything could burn."

"we won't fail," he said. "not if we keep our hands clean and stay five steps ahead."

you were quiet for a moment, then said, almost in a whisper, "just promise me, when this is over, you stop. no more games. no more schemes. pay your debt. disappear if you have to. but walk away clean."

jaehyun leaned closer, resting a hand lightly over yours. "i promise," he said. "again."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the first half of the scheme's day began with a soft knock at the door. not jaehyun’s usual guests.

you had called in your trusted stylist, one of the few people outside your world that you still relied on, and you gave him a simple instruction: bring jaehyun to life.

the stylist arrived twenty minutes later, horrified. he had to mask up and put on oversized sunglasses just to feel safe walking through the neighborhood. he stepped into jaehyun’s dim place like it was a crime scene, eyeing the walls as if they’d collapse on him.

"we’ll talk about hazard pay later," he muttered under his breath, then snapped into professional mode.

jaehyun stood up from the sofa with a raised brow, watching with mild amusement as bags upon bags were laid out like treasure chests being unlocked. one by one, the stylist pulled pieces from them. designer cuts, high-stakes color choices, patterns that screamed wealth with a punch.

every time a new outfit was held up in front of him by the mirror, jaehyun grinned. "this one?" he asked. "or this one makes me look like i already own the table?"

the stylist combed and slicked jaehyun’s hair back with precision, cleaned his look, worked magic with layers. when it was done, jaehyun stood from the chair and turned to you.

white loose-fit blazer. a black sheer tank top that flirted with elegance and sin. crisp white trousers. silver loafers that shimmered under the flickering lights. a leopard-print fur coat draped on his shoulders, and yellow aviator shades perched on his head

"how do i look?" jaehyun smirked, striking a pose.

you tilted your head slightly, arms still crossed, lips tugged into a grin. "you look good, jae." your tone softened. "i just- i’m still worried about all this."

he stepped closer, brushing off imaginary lint from his shoulder.

"don’t be. i told you, i got this."

you sighed, patting the fur on his shoulder. "just don’t get robbed or die out there."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

later that night, the location changed, but the tension doubled. the hidden gambling site was tucked beneath a building like a secret shame. down a narrow flight of stairs, a rusted door groaned open with the sound of a dying rat. the scent hit first.

cigarettes, spilled liquor, testosterone, and rotting dreams. jaehyun’s cologne sliced through it like a blade. everyone noticed. heads turned slightly, not out of curiosity, but out of animal instinct.

the smoke hovered at the ceiling like a gray, suffocating god watching over everyone. the lighting flickered. men hunched over card tables, drunk on beer and desperation, barely looked up as he entered.

"new guy?" someone murmured near the bar, not even glancing up from their hand.

jaehyun didn’t respond. he strode in cockily like the floor belonged to him, each step echoing sharply on the cracked tile, his rolex flashing beneath the sleeve of his coat. and at the far end is the real game.

a round table, tension dense in the air like humidity. there were five players, abnd piles of cash sat between them. chaotic, stained, unapologetically excessive. the ceo was there. cap pulled low. sleeves rolled up. face sour like he’d been chewing on failure for hours. clearly already losing.

"got room for one more?" jaehyun asked, flashing a disarming grin as he casually pulled a thick stack of bills from his coat and slapped it down on the table. "i’ve been dying for something exciting tonight."

one of the regulars snorted without lifting his gaze.

"you sure you know where you are, pretty boy?"

jaehyun slid into a chair with no hesitation. "i’m sure. i got bored beating spoiled heirs at rooftop poker. thought i’d try something... dirtier."

that line made the ceo look up. just a flick of his eyes. sharp, and cautious. a man used to predators, trying to figure out if this new one bit harder than he did.

the dealer looked around the table, shrugged once.

"your money. your loss."

jaehyun smiled. this is exactly what he came here for. and then, the game began.

the soundscape exploded. clattering chips, the crackle of cigarette lighters, bursts of hoarse laughter from men soaked in sweat and cheap liquor. the room echoed with testosterone and tension.

and jaehyun? he played like a moron as planned.

he raised too early. called bluffs he should’ve folded on. grinned after every loss like he enjoyed the punishment.

"keep feeding us, rich boy!" one older man cackled, pointing his cigarette like a dagger. "hope daddy wired you more this morning!"

jaehyun leaned back in his seat, casual, tapping his stack of chips like a bored drummer killing time.

"it’s just money," he cockily said. "can always make more."

round two, round three, same routine. he threw chips around like halloween candy. once, he even pretended not to understand the rules, drawing out laughter from the table. groans, jeers, slaps on the table.

but jaehyun wasn’t watching the guys laughing. he was watching the man across the table. quiet, cap low, hoodie up, and lips shut tight like a snake coiled and waiting. the ceo

by the time the fourth round hit, the dealer groaned and stood up, stretching his arms. "alright, break time," he muttered. "you’re up."

the next man stepped in. younger, and cleaner. but jaehyun knew him because he was part of the setup. planted, and paid by you.

the game then resumed. jaehyun looked at his hand. king, ace. still, he played it cool, letting the pot build.

then the river hit. ace. he won loudly.

"look at that!" he barked, flashing his cards like a showman.

the crowd clapped, hooted, mocked in disbelief.

then the next round, he folded, followed by a win, then another, then another until everyone grew frustrated.

now, jaehyun was building a wall of chips and money srash. his cocky grin was gone. he was all focused now.

the table noticed this as spectators leaned in.

"did he stop being a dumbass or what?" someone whispered from the shadows. "guy's hot now. he’s got some luck charm."

but jaehyun kept his head down, poker face on. the scent of sweat and suspicion grew thick. then, out of the corner of his eye, the ceo leaned closer, voice low but sharp as a blade.

"what changed?"

jaehyun didn’t even turn his head. "you’re saying?" he muttered nonchalantly, stacking his chips like bricks.

the ceo pressed again, this time with heat. "you were trash thirty minutes ago. now you’re on a streak. that ain’t luck."

jaehyun slowly licked his teeth and leaned forward. still not looking him in the eye. "dealer changed."

"you rigging it?" the ceo’s voice was gravel, now close enough to smell his breath.

jaehyun shrugged with casual defiance. "i’m not saying that." he smiled slyly. "but maybe i know someone. maybe i paid someone."

the ceo’s eyes narrowed, calculating, weighing risk versus greed.

jaehyun then struck the next blow smoothly. "you want in?"

the ceo finally replied, cautious. "how?"

"you pay me," jaehyun said, tapping his chips lazily, almost bored.

"let me call your plays. you win double what you gave me. you walk out richer than you walked in. that’s gambling, right?"

the ceo stared, eyes boring into him. "and if i don’t win?" he hissed.

jaehyun leaned back, rolling his eyes like the answer was obvious.

"you’re in a rat den on a dead-end street, surrounded by broke men with knives in their socks. you were gonna lose anyway. at least now you have a shot."

the tension thickened between them. the ceo dangerously skeptical. then, without a word, he slipped a hand into his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope. with a glance around the table, he slid it under toward jaehyun.

"show me, kid."

jaehyun’s fingers brushed the envelope, and he smirked. he snatched the thick band with one hand, flashing a sly smile before leaning back in his chair like a king already counting his spoils.

"watch and learn."

the next round began. jaehyun tapped twice on the felt. the planted dealer caught it , it's the cue, and gave the subtlest nod in return.

beside him, the ceo adjusted his cap, still and silent. watching still with doubt until the cards were dealt.

and then, a win. then another, and another. with every hand, the ceo shoved more chips to his side, the pile growing. the disbelief in the room was audible, grunts, mutters, a scoff or two. but no one could touch him now.

the ceo leaned over, trying to hide the grin twitching on his face.

"shit, you weren’t bluffing."

jaehyun tilted his head, voice low and cocky. "nice guys never bluff."

by the end of the set, chairs scraped as the players stood, letting the next round of gamblers slide in. jaehyun casually approached the ceo, who was now seated in the corner with his cap still low, guarding his wins like a dragon sitting on gold.

jaehyun then sat next to him. "this place?" he said, eyes scanning the smoke-stained walls. "small pond. a couple grand, max."

then he leaned closer. "tomorrow night," he added, tone dropping. "i'm playing a real game."

the ceo’s gaze sharpened in intrigue. "bigger than this?"

jaehyun smirked. "ten times. real players, no cameras, no rules."

"you running it?" the ceo asked, curiosity now laced with greed.

jaehyun shook his head. "i know the people who are. dealer’s mine. couple of my guys on the inside. i win what i want."

"and you're gonna rig it again?"

"if you pay me now," he said smoothly, "i’ll rig it for you. winner takes all. but you only get in if i vouch for you."

the ceo stared at him for a long second, tension flickering across his jaw, then reached into his coat.

another envelope, fatter, and heavier. cleaner bills. without a word, he dropped it on the table between them. jaehyun slid it into his jacket discreetly.

"game starts at midnight." he stood. "i’ll send you the time and place. bring everything you’ve got."

the ceo leaned back, suspicion flickering again beneath the brim of his cap. "this better not be bullshit."

jaehyun was already turning away, throwing one last look over his shoulder with a smirk.

"you already won tonight," he said. "and that was just the free sample."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

when jaehyun got back home, the place was quiet. you were already lying on the sofa, curled up and still in your clothes from earlier. he paused by the doorway, eyes softening. you must've been waiting for him but sleep had taken over first.

with a quiet breath, he walked past you and headed to the bathroom. a quick shower, fresh clothes, a breath of steam and cold air to wash away the smoke and sweat of the night. when he returned to the living room, towel still around his neck, you were stirring.

groggily, you sat up, rubbing your eyes. "jaehyun?" you murmured.

he walked over and sat at the edge of your sofa, right by your feet. "it all went as planned," he said softly, reassuring. "and don't worry, i didn't get robbed."

you exhaled a deep sigh of relief, eyes half-lidded. "i can sleep soundly now," you whispered, lying back down. "good night, myungjae."

your voice faded with your consciousness, melting back into sleep. jaehyun smiled, quietly brushing his fingers across the sole of your foot. then, he stood and padded over to his own sofa, stepping carefully over inho who was snoring lightly on the floor.

the night, for now, was over, until tomorrow came.

and when it did, it arrived heavy and breathless. the air was thick with humidity clinging to jaehyun’s skin like sweat, same as last night. he ducked beneath the half-rolled gate of an abandoned warehouse.

downstairs, the den had changed. gone were the rickety tables and sticky floors of the previous night. in their place stood a sleek, circular table draped in fresh red felt, lit coldly by a steel lamp that buzzed overhead. the room smelled faintly of bleach like someone tried to wipe away whatever happened here last.

everything tonight was dressed for performance. everyone had a role. the host, the dealer, and the planted players. but the crowd the rest were all legit.

jaehyun arrived in a black button-up, sleeves rolled, slacks pressed just enough, a leather coat slung casually over his shoulders.

minutes passed, and tension grew in the room. then, finally, the ceo entered. same low-slung cap. same hood. same cold look, already calculating his cut. he carried two huge briefcases and the stench of silent arrogance. his gaze skimmed the room like a scanner. searching for any lie.

jaehyun caught his eye with a nod, easy and calm. "didn’t think you’d actually show," he said, casual as if they were just old friends.

"you said it’s rigged," the ceo replied, dropping one of the briefcases on the table with a dull thud. "i don’t turn down guaranteed money. don't mess this shit up. i got all my fortune in these cases including company funds."

jaehyun smirked hearing this. "that’s what i like about you."

then, they sat. the game began.

the same dealer from last night shuffled the cards, cleaner jacket, tighter smile, and sharper moves.

first round, second, third , jaehyun played it smooth. folded early, called safe bets, lost intentionally, and kept his composure steady. the ceo mirrored him, like a student shadowing his master.

by the fourth round, the ceo began to win. the fifth? he swept the pot. by the sixth, he sat taller. his hands were looser, and confidence is now totally blinding him. his mind was convinced this was his doing.

"feeling lucky?" the dealer asked, as he cut the next deck.

"i brought enough," the ceo muttered, cracking his neck.

the host then stepped forward. "final round," she said. "winner takes all. no splits. all-in only."

chairs shifted. stacks hit the table. one after another, the fake players pushed in briefcases and chips everything on the line. the ceo followed, adding both his briefcases and wins. jaehyun slid his stack forward like he was tossing pocket change into a tip jar.

the cards then hit the table one by one. the room was silent and breathless as the game went on. everyone is on the edge including the spectators.

then, when the host’s voice rang clear through the smoke and tension, announcing the winner.

"winner: seat three."

the ceo blinked. confused, in shock, and in denial.

"what!?" he grunted.

across the table, the man he hadn’t even looked at twice all night, soemone unremarkable looking, leaned back in his chair, smirked, and laid his hand face-up.

the dealer gave a single, decisive nod. the host gestured toward the vault. the chips, cash, and the ceo’s briefcases were all collected, silently rolled into crates and passed toward the exit. a van out back waited with the engine running.

the ceo’s panicked as realization sank in, hands clammy as he swung his head everywhere.

"what the hell is this?" he barked, standing from his chair, eyes wild, voice cracking.

he turned to his right, and found an empty chair. jaehyun was long gone with no trace of evidence.

"where the fuck is he?!" the ceo shouted, spinning around, his cap nearly falling off.

"you lost," the host replied without blinking. "take it like a man."

"this was rigged! you scammed me!" he yelled, pointing a trembling finger at her, face red, veins protruding on his neck and forehead, spit flying from the corners of his mouth.

the host only raised a brow. "you paid for a win," she said. "you paid him." she nodded toward the empty chair. "you didn’t pay me. welcome to underground gambling."

meanwhile, back in jaehyun's apartment, the door flung open with a clang.

"i'm back, baby!" jaehyun's voice echoed through the apartment as he kicked off his boots and slid across the smooth floor like a giddy kid.

"it's a success!" he yelled, fists pumping in the air, the elation bouncing off his skin. he twirled once in the middle of the room, breathless and glowing with adrenaline, then looked over at you.

you leaned against the kitchen archway, arms crossed, an amused smirk curling on your lips. the dim lights of the contained apartment reflected off your soft cheekbones.

"as expected from you," you said simply.

jaehyun beamed. he charged toward you, wrapping you in a brief, bouncing hug before pulling away to half-dance his way toward the living room.

"where’s inho?" he asked, voice still giddy, jacket sliding off his shoulders as he moved.

"he said he’s heading out," you replied plainy, pushing off the wall and strolling toward the kitchen. not a single excitement in your aura.

"you’re out of stock here anyway. grab some liquor. we should celebrate, right?"

you punctuated the words with a smirk, hopping onto the marble counter. one leg crossed over the other wifh relaxed posture. jaehyun paused for a second, his smile faltering slightly.

something about your tone felt unusually approving. you, who had voiced hesitation about the plan at every checkpoint, now suddenly basked in its success. he couldn’t tell if it excited or unsettled him.

still, he nodded. "alright. i’ll change and head out quick."

he disappeared into the bathroom, removing layers of clothes. you stayed perched on the counter. when the front door finally shut behind him, the lock clicking into place, your entire body shifted.

the smirk vanished. as your eyes sharpened. you hopped off the counter, striding across the apartment. your laptop was already open on the dining table, a string of transaction logs glowing across the screen in rows of numbers and crypto wallet ids. two billion dollars, broken across dummy wallets, scattered through cold storage and encryption keys like digital breadcrumbs no one could follow.

you picked up your phone and dialed. a couple of rings, then a familiar voice crackled through the speaker. "hey."

you didn’t bother with pleasantries. "it’s done," you said flatly, eyes flicking across the screen again.

on the other end, your brother made a low whistle. "already? damn. he bought all of it?"

"the final game. the van. the stacked deck. every planted player. hook, line, and idiot. he thinks we’re celebrating." you smirked.

"he doesn’t suspect?"

you gave a lazy shrug to no one. "he’s a total goner. thinks he’s the mastermind. poor guy probably believes he's gonna keep everything."

"yikes." your brother huffed. "so... we moving?"

"yeah. order your boy. now."

"tonight?"

"right now," you said firmly. "i want the sorting to start before sunrise. get the vault cracked, split it. make sure mirage auto gets the first drop. no delays. and tell them to report to me, no middlemen."

"got it. what about the crypto?"

"i’m handling the chips already," you said, glancing at the open cold wallet interface on your screen. lines of encrypted code streamed "half through mine, half through yours. clean, and untraceable."

your brother exhaled on the line. "you’re scary when you’re efficient."

you cracked a smile. "i’m not scary. i’m just not wasting a billion dollar score on a guy who thinks he’s slick because he wore a leather jacket to a poker trap."

he laughed on the other end. "fair."

you then ended the call with a swipe, your phone screen dimming as silence returned. then you turned to the screen, the funds were still being broken apart.

somewhere across town, jaehyun was probably picking up a bottle of whiskey, still basking in the high of a win he thought he controlled.

you sat back in the chair, crossing your legs and exhaling slowly. he played his role perfectly. but the real dealer was always you.

then, the door clicked. you calmly set your phone down. a second later, the apartment door creaked open, slower this time, and in stepped jaehyun, a bottle of aged whiskey tucked under his arm, and that same cocky grin plastered across his face like it had never left.

"back," he called, voice easy as he kicked the door shut behind him. "got the expensive one. none of that cheap shit tonight."

the apartment was dim, lit only by the warm glow of a few amber-toned lamps and neon lights. shadows crawled up the walls. you moved through the kitchen calmly, already pulling down crystal glasses, their edges catching the light like sharp ice.

as jaehyun excused himself into the bathroom, you tore open the silver packet. a fine line of pale powder spilled neatly into one of the glasses. you stirred it in with a soft clink of glass on glass, the drug dissolving without a trace.

the bathroom door then opened. jaehyun reemerged, rubbing a hand through his hair. he slid into the chair across from you, picking up the drink, swirling it absentmindedly unknowingly mixing the last thing he should’ve ever trusted.

"cheers to you," you said, lifting your glass.

he raised his, eyes gleaming with pride. "to our big win."

you smiled, not because you meant it, but because his ego made it easy. you watched him sip as you slid your phone over, the screen glowing with a fake account in his name. thirty million, bold and pristine. he stared at it, wide-eyed, all in disbelief.

but less than ten minutes later, his confidence cracked. jaehyun blinked hard. his hand wavered. the glass slipped slightly in his grip as his vision started to warp.

"one drink," he mumbled. "no way i’m drunk..."

his voice slurred as he tried to push himself up, but his knees folded uselessly beneath him. he swayed, eyes fighting to stay open, before lifting his head toward you.

"what did you—"

thud. his forehead hit the counter with a dull knock, then silence. he's dead asleep.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the next thing he knew, a low, dull ringing echoed in his ears as jaehyun stirred. his head pounded. his mouth was sandpaper dry. cold sweat clung to his skin. something was definitely wrong.

when he moved, panic surged through him. rope cut into his wrists tightly. he was strapped to a chair. his chair. his own rug underfoot. his own walls. but now it all looked foreign to him.

then he saw you. you stood by the mirror, your coat buttoned, your two handbags and suitcases zipped and waiting by the door. you didn’t smile. not like before. your face had shifted into something colder than what you initially showed jaehyun.

"what the hell is this?" he rasped, trying to focus. "what did you do?"

you turned, heels clicking as you walked toward him slowly.

"just tying up loose ends," you said with a smirk.

"why?" his voice cracked. "why the hell would you- ?"

you tilted your head, gaze hardening. "come on. you’re supposed to be a smart conman, right? so think. what exactly is happening here?"

his mind scrambled through fog. the offshore account, forged numbers, and suddenly his face contorted with realization. "the company... the account... everything- "

"ddaeng, ddaeng." you clicked your fingers, pointing at him like he was a joke. "bingo."

you crouched in front of him, eye-level now. "i was never your rich ceo, jae. i mean, yeah, i’m rich. but not because i run some company."

you rose, slowly pacing. he followed you with his eyes, half-lidded and furious.

"i ran a job on that gambler ceo months ago," you went on. "but it was too risky. too many eyes. i needed someone disposable to sit in the spotlight and take the heat if it blew up."

you stopped in front of him again and leaned in. close enough to smell the fear beneath his cologne.

"and you?" you tapped his chin, and he flinched away. "you were perfect."

his jaw clenched, teeth grinding. "let me go."

you chuckled, shaking your head. "you really haven’t learned. the second you got soft, when you started thinking i was just another mark, that’s when you lost."

you stepped back, arms folded now.

"i saw through you the moment we met," you said. "that 'accidental' bump on the street, those superficial charm, the wrench in your left hand even though you’re right-handed, amateur. you thought i was easy money."

your smile faded into blade-thin. "but i’ve been running this long before you even knew the rules. i grew up in the gutters, jae. you should've realized the moment i told you that my brother is dirty."

jaehyun thrashed once, hard, rattling the chair. "you set me up."

"i offered you cash for that cracked little burner," you reminded him. "if you’d taken it, we wouldn’t be here. but you got greedy. you thought i fell for you."

you glanced at your watch. outside, faint sirens began to wail, still distant, but rising fast.

"the cops will be here in under a minute. you’ll be caught with fake ids, rigged ledgers, gambling chips," you said calmly, slinging a bag over your shoulder. "so i really should go."

jaehyun twisted in the chair, panicked now. "yeonsoo, please- let me go! we can still fix this!"

you paused by the door, hand on the handle, then glanced back one last time.

"where’s inho to help you now?" you said with a tilt of your head, cruel smile playing on your lips. and then, with the sirens loud in the hallway, you opened the door.

"but don’t worry, jaehyun..." you called softly, stepping into the dark hallway. "you were my favorite con."

the door shut behind you. and jaehyun, bound and betrayed, sat alone as he struggles to set himself free.

after the massive con, you vanished for eight months, laying low overseas with a forged work visa. your brother, now enjoying a life of luxury and vastly improved health, was with you, and you often reminisced about the successful plan you'd once talked about in his ragged apartment. with time on your hands, your thoughts drifted toward legitimate business ventures.

one calm evening, you sat in a refined restaurant, peacefully enjoying your dinner. your fingers hovered over your laptop, completely absorbed in your work. the gentle clinking of silverware, the murmur of conversations in a language you were slowly mastering, and the rich aroma of coq au vin filled the air.

in your periphery, you noticed a man in a fine suit settle into the table directly across from yours. you dismissed him as just another frenchman, perhaps a local businessman on his way home, your focus still. you were deep in thought, sketching out a preliminary business plan for a sustainable tech startup, a far cry from your previous, illicit agendas.

but then the frenchman spoke to the waiter, his voice sent a bell chiming off in your head. it was a familiar cadence, a hint of something you’d heard before, but you couldn't quite place it in the comfortable bubble of your new life. you paused, a forkful of perfectly seared duck hovering halfway to your mouth, a faint tremor running through your hand.

you calmly looked up. a familiar face was already smirking at you, leaning back in his chair with an unnerving calmness. the low lamplight caught the glint in his eyes, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his lips.

"fancy seeing you here," jaehyun drawled, a smirk playing on his lips. you simply returned his smile, a quiet acknowledgment of the inevitable. you weren't surprised that he'd managed to evade the authorities, jaehyun was a slick con man, after all. but you knew his one true weakness, he always folded when it came to women.

"so, how does the billion taste?" he leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a challenge. "na jiyeon?"

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