A/N: Hello everyone!! Thank you so much to the four wonderful people - FFMonbebe (thanks, my friend!), Datphat1, kathalin45, and Morrowkim02) who subscribed when I put out the Foreword. This is horribly late, I know – and is now a two-shot – but in all fairness I was super attacked by Hyungwon during this entire comeback. That’s it. That’s the only defense I have. LOL. Jokes aside, I really hope you like it!

Also, here's a performance that really inspired me apart from the Shoot Out teaser - Hyungwon X IM - Fake Love (Drake Cover) in Chicago 2018

Enjoy!

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Chapter – 1: Fake People Showing Fake Love to Me

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‘Another water for you, Sir?’ the smartly-dressed bartender asked politely as he wiped a glass down, though Hyungwon could feel the judgement in the man’s stare.

‘Yes. Don’t like to start the party too early.’ Or at all in this case, he thought as he managed a wry smile that turned out to be more of a grimace.

How the kingpin of an entire country’s illegal drug business had been the one to end up on a recon mission to scope out an enemy was anyone’s guess (especially since he had no clue what to look for in the first place), but Hyungwon grudgingly put that thought away for now.

He looked around the large room, a slightly disdainful expression taking over his handsome features. Yoon Moon Jae, esteemed owner of this establishment – and his primary business rival – had taken being part of the underground much too literally. Not only was the huge casino three floors below the first level, but the cavernous space was exactly that – a man-made cave, complete with exposed fake, jagged rock walls. The heavily mountainous appearance was lit up by scones of actual fire that cast flickering shadows around the hundred odd playing tables and seating areas and created an ominous aura along with contrasting chrome pendant lights. The overall effect was like stepping into a sci-fi movie.

Nonetheless, the actual centerpiece was what Hyungwon was seated beneath. A large amount of funds – gained by encroaching on his territory, no doubt – had gone to the massive chandelier that hung above. The behemoth glass giant was made up of a beehive of thousands of little shelves that contained countless colorful bottles of liquor, and it was these shelves that were lined with LED-lights, hideously incongruous to the nature of a chandelier itself. The glass converged to a steep point that coincided with the center of the bar he was at.

Lovely, let’s just wait for that to fall on our heads.

As a rule, the young, twenty-six-year-old drug lord (and prominent mafia affiliate) absolutely detested bar stools. Per the usual pattern, his tall stature ensured that he was hunched over the tiny seat, his head resting in one of his long- hands, and he was sorely tempted to just slump down on the bar instead. His body started to settle into an uncaring slouch, and he winced as he heard the distinct crack of his phone hitting the floor after falling out of his pocket as a result.

‘Goddammit.’ He cursed, impatiently brushing his ash blond hair out of his eyes as he bent to pick up the broken device. Through the corner of his beautifully-shaped and well-trained eye, he noted that someone had taken up the seat beside him.

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‘Oh Gosh, you scared me!’ Mi Cha exclaimed as the man next to her straightened up.

For a moment she forgot how to speak.

Her first thought was that it was unfair for a man to have lips like that – puffy, plump, a delicate natural shade of petal pink that women would kill for. Mi Cha couldn’t help but stare at how beautifully his perfect cupid’s bow aligned with his long, straight nose. She’d seen her share of pretty faces – she was a model after all, and about fifty fashion shoots later, all the features seemed to blend together, each prettier than the next, and yet none compared to his ethereal exquisiteness. Her curious eyes wandered over his high cheekbones, sharp jawline, and his hooded eyes, colored a deep aquamarine by obvious lenses, but so eerily electric all the same.

A flat eyebrow, dark against his flawless skin arched at her questioningly, and Mi Cha realized that maybe her perusal had become a little too obvious.

‘Didn’t see you there.’ He said at length, his voice a lazy, gravelly drawl as she cleared .

‘Yeah, me neither.’ She replied as the bartender turned away, having noted her order of a Tequila Sunrise. She was starting off strong with the purpose of being drunk enough to forget her own name. One cranky director, two rather handsy co-models, and three different bouts of not-her-fault dressing downs later, she figured she had enough justification.

Too bad all she got was half a sip.

When the first bottle shattered, Mi Cha assumed that someone had probably just been clumsy. When the second one broke, she thought that maybe an argument had broken out. It wasn’t until the third one burst right in front of her that she heard the distinct pew, pew, pew, and falling bodies.

That’s when the screams began.

In the resulting mayhem that caused a maelstrom of people moving in all directions, there was nowhere to run. The chrome lights overhead exploded as they were struck by stray (or purposeful, there was no way to tell) bullets, further reducing the visibility until only the haunting illumination from the wall scones remained. Her blood froze in her veins as she uncomprehendingly lowered herself to the floor, crouching under the bar for shelter, her father’s gruff voice ringing in her ears.

‘You here that sound, my girl?’

Seven-year-old Mi Cha had nodded hesitantly as they stood in the vast garden which could be considered the backyard of her house, both unsure of everything and a little scared of why the man she trusted most suddenly had a weird gun in his hand.

‘Daddy, what is that?’ she’d asked, pointing to the strange attachment.

‘A silencer,’ he’d replied as he’d shot a tree again, ‘If you ever hear this, you run as far as you can, understood? Promise me.’

Her tiny pinky finger had quietly wrapped around his.

The forgotten memories swirled in her head, everything too fast for coherent thought, and as she snapped her head around, searching for a way out of this hellhole, for the second time that night, her eyes met startlingly bright sea-green.

The stranger from before blinked slowly. Before her overwhelmed mind could register that although he shared her uncertain position, his gaze exposed an unnerving calmness, unyielding hands gripped her in a punishing grasp and she was roughly dragged to her feet.

She stumbled on her tall heels, cursing the fact that she chose to come here straight after the shoot ended, and right after she was jerked upright, a harsh blow struck the side of her face.

And that was the first time she’d known what that felt like.

Tears reflexively streamed down her cheeks as she tried to get past the pounding in her brain. She fell into someone, and a now-familiar voice said to her lowly, ‘Hey, snap out of it.’

She looked up to see ash blond hair and full lips pressed together in a disapproving grimace.

‘So nice to finally meet you, Yoon Mi Cha.’

The woman turned and met the shallow, bloodshot eyes of a man she didn’t know.

‘What do you want from me?’

‘Why don’t you ask your father?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She said truthfully.

‘All in good time.’ was the chilling reply.

 Who’s this?’ his sleazy voice crowed as he gave the blond man behind her a once-over. Mi Cha felt a shiver run through her as she saw that they’d been surrounded by at least ten men, all clad in disheveled black suits in varying stages of disrepair, and each man a worrying degree of being more brutal-looking and ham-handed than the last.

‘N-No one.’ She managed shakily, and the middle-aged thug in front of her grinned, his beady black eyes flicking from her to their other captive.

The handsome stranger who now had a gun painfully shoved to his temple. Although he somehow looked more annoyed than appalled at the situation.

‘Nobodies don’t make the guest list~’ the thug said, his sing-song voice rousing laughter from his accomplices.

Mi Cha met the man’s eyes, his gaze steely and boring into her, and she knew that she couldn’t just let him die.

‘Boyfriend.’ She choked out, ‘he’s my boyfriend.’

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Not that Hyungwon fancied death-by-degenerate all that much, but he couldn’t help but feel a little miffed at being dragged into a mess that he hadn’t help create in the first place.

‘Let me do you guys a favor and make sure you stay together until death do you part.’ The apparent leader of this sorry band of miscreants cackled.

The only indication that he’d winced was given by the slight pursing of his lips as the man backhanded the young woman. This time, the force of it brought her to the glass-littered floor. This time, she didn’t get up.

He watched as a lackey carelessly gathered her slim body. With a thin strap of her deep-cut floor-length red dress slipping down one shoulder and one long, pale leg exposed by the slit that ran up to a few inches below her hip, she seemed rather fragile.  

‘Let’s take a hike, pretty boy.’ The man holding him jeered, distracting him from his observation.

Dear God, they need more work on their dialogues.

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Hyungwon had ended up in the empty back of a nondescript black van with his wrists cuffed to a handhold above his head. Apparently, his sardonic look hadn’t gone over well with the brutes for hire. His lovely companion had ended up tossed onto the dirty, thinly-carpeted floor of the vehicle, her hands restrained behind her back and pulling her body in what was sure to be a very uncomfortable position. However, she was still out cold, which was good, because she hadn’t been mentally present to experience the gangsters disgustingly her legs to remove her phone from her thigh holster strap. Unlike the rather daunting name and purpose, the thin material had only contained an ID, a credit card, a couple 50,000 won notes, and her flashy new iPhone. All the men had cared about was her communication device, a