He did know, but when Baekho first asked him, Ren’s face had gone pale and he shook his head roughly as he told Baekho it was done for. JR Kim was the alias of Kim Jonghyun, the son of THE Kim Jonghyun of Samsung Corporation. The CEO and one of the richest men in South Korea. It had taken a moment for that knowledge to sink in, but then Baekho had shrugged and told him that JR’s position in the world didn’t matter. He’d promised to bring Minhyun home.

They made the lonely trip toward the upper section of town, the bus driver looking tired and uncaring as the two teens stepped off in the shopping district. The public transport didn’t go all the way into the housing district where the rich and powerful lived, so they either needed to hire a taxi or walk.

Baekho chose walk, Ren stumbling along behind him, the pretty boy finally looking like as tired as the athlete felt. There was honestly no other place Baekho would rather be than in his bed, and with another glance at his watch he found it to be past two in the morning already. The coffee had done its job but it just wasn’t enough to rejuvenate him fully, and so he just dug down into that stubborn streak and kept moving, ignoring the threatening yawns.

“Baekho?” Ren asked quietly, from just behind him, and the athlete paused to look back at him in question. The streetlights were bright, here, a marked contrast from where Ren was from; they cast light down onto the two teens and gave a false sense of security. Ren’s eyes were dark in shadow as he watched Baekho’s face, as if trying to read his intentions there, and finally he shook his head and asked, “What are you going to do when we get there? That gun isn’t loaded, you know…”

“Yeah, I know,” Baekho replied, remembering Ren’s quiet instructions when he’d first given him the pistol. “I’m not sure yet… I’ll think of something.” He hoped he would, anyway. The way that Ren shrugged and nodded before following him once again reminded Baekho that not only Minhyun’s life was on the line, here, but Ren’s as well. And his own, but Baekho always knew that his actions and choices would affect his life. Having two others relying on that was a lot of pressure, though.

His thoughts drifted back to his mom, to the knowledge that she and Mrs. Hwang were probably sitting in the Kang’s dining room, hands gripped around cups as they awaited news from Baekho. He wondered for a moment what it would have been like to have a father to be worrying over him, or even to be out beside him helping him search, but it was of no use. His father had been killed in an accident years ago, when Baekho was a small child; it was one of the things that had brought him and Minhyun closer together, being able to bond over the fact that they had both lost their fathers at a young age. Now all the pressure was on Baekho to try and make sure that Mrs. Hwang didn’t lose someone else.

They approached a beautiful home, one that looked like something purely out of a movie, the lights off and everyone seeming to be asleep. Baekho moved toward the porch, wondering if there were mafia or something that were going to jump out and shoot him, but before he could step up onto it, Ren caught his arm.

“Not here," he hissed, eyes flickering toward the side yard. Baekho listened carefully and could hear nothing, but after a moment he shrugged and did as Ren bade, moving for the side gate instead of the porch. Halfway there, a dark shadow peeled itself off of the wall and moved to block their path; a large man, probably a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier than Baekho.

“What do you want, punks?” he said quietly, crossing his arms over his chest, and Baekho felt his heartbeat quicken. How to get past him?

“We’re here for JR’s party,” Ren said softy, his voice steady but his fingers digging into the back of Baekho’s coat as he peered around the stocky teen’s shoulder. Baekho kept his mouth shut, relieved that once again Ren had a good excuse, and after a long moment of scrutiny, the gate keeper pushed open the portal and motioned them through.

“Keep quiet until you get downstairs,” he warned, and though Baekho wasn’t quite sure as to what he meant, Ren just nodded and agreed, pushing the bigger teen ahead of him.

They entered the back yard, the elaborate swimming pool taking over most of the area, a grilling pit closer to the patio showing that it would be a perfect place for summer parties. A large guest house dominated the back half of the yard, one light shining out from its interior. They headed for it with the assumption it was their destination, the guard not correcting them. Baekho shook his head as he wondered what it would be to grow up in a place like this, grow up where everything was handed to you. He was grateful to his mom, though; he wasn’t sure how well he’d have turned out otherwise. More money would have been nice, yes, but if it meant he turned into something like JR Kim…

Twisting the doorknob, he pushed open the door to the guest house and entered, the warmth of the room a sharp contrast to the biting cold outdoors. He could hear the slightest sound of music inside the house, and after Ren closed the door behind them, he glanced around to try and locate the stairs that the guard had mentioned. “Here,” Ren said softly, the pretty boy standing near a half wall as he pointed down beyond it. “Stairs.”

As they made their way down, the sounds of music became louder, and when they reached the basement it was as if a full blown party was underway. The place was packed with youths and young adults, some dancing to the music off to the right hand side, others playing games at the gaming tables in the center, and still more occupying the couches that lined the left wall. Baekho recognized a few of the people from gossip magazines, celebrities who were living a hidden life here, but after a scan around the room his eyes fell on one person only.

Minhyun sat at one of the couches, dressed in a mesh shirt and tight pants, makeup done up and his hair messy. A man probably in his late twenties sat beside him, pressing kisses to his neck and his hand roaming Minhyun’s body; Baekho would have considered that maybe the teen was enjoying it except for the totally blank expression on his face. It was as if he had just shut down, his mind too far enveloped in his haze of drugs to even care what was happening to his body. Ren’s hand closed over Baekho’s arm as he, too, caught sight of Minhyun, but with a growl the athlete yanked his arm free and strode over to that couch.

Grabbing the adult’s arm in his left hand, Baekho ripped him up off of the couch and onto his feet. The man’s surprised and angry gaze fell on Baekho and he opened his mouth to probably demand to know what the other was doing, but Baekho’s right fist hit him hard in the jaw before any sound could come out. There was a satisfying pop, and the man let out a sharp keen of pain as he clutched his jaw, but Baekho wasn’t done. He punched him twice more, once in the face and the final time in the stomach, then shoved him away from the teens; the man tripped over an ottoman and fell, cradling his broken face.

“Minhyun,” Baekho said softly, crouching down in front of the other teen. His friend’s eyes didn’t even glance at him, no reaction to even say that he knew that the stocky teen was there. Baekho fought back the emotion that threatened to overcome him, swallowing back the pain at seeing his friend like this, and reached out to carefully begin to lift the tall boy to his feet. Ren called out a warning to Baekho, and it was only his martial arts training that allowed the athlete to react in time. 

He dropped Minhyun back onto the couch and ducked the blow that had been aiming for his head, pivoting on his heels, his left hand outstretched and stiff as he struck his attacker hard in the neck. The man’s grip on the bat he’d swung at Baekho loosened, the metal piece dropping to clatter on the floor, and Baekho followed the chop with a front kick, planting his foot hard into the man’s chest and sending him stumbling back. It was then that Baekho realized that he was now the center of attention.

All partying in the room had stopped, and all eyes were now locked on him as he stood protectively in front of Minhyun. Ren eased closer until he, too, stood in front of their friend, but Baekho knew that realistically the pretty teen didn’t offer any backup. His hand slipped inside of his coat pocket, reaching for the gun, but a voice called out from the gathered crowd.

“You can’t just waltz in here and take my property,” a slender, handsome boy about his own age stepped from the midst, a drink held in one hand and a haughty expression on his face. Baekho didn’t need Ren’s whispered confirmation that it was JR; the other’s confident stance spoke measures. 

Baekho straightened his back and put on the toughest expression he could think of, his mouth forming the words that he meant in every bone of his body. “He’d not your property, and I am taking him home.”

JR’s eyes took in both of the men that Baekho had beaten, the first still lying where he’d fallen, soft cries coming from him as he still held his face, but the other was up again and red with anger as he focused on the stocky teen. Several other men eased from the crowd to stand in a semi-circle between the three teens and the door, the rest of the partygoers easing back a little as they murmured to one another. JR’s lips quirked in a smile, then he turned to Baekho with a raised brow. “And how do you think you’d be leaving?” he asked smoothly.

Baekho fought with the idea of pulling the gun out of his pocket, but he had yet to see another firearm here and was reluct