Really excited to read the reaction of the other 1 generation/the kings when they all hear some gossip of the king of Chungcheong (aka jichang kwak 😘) did have serious relationship with a certain nurse 🤭🤭🤭
Poor Seongji and Jinrang--you can't tell me that they won't get insecure, especially when their rival is Jichang Kwak, who's not only strong but smart and handsome. (I feel like these guys don't understand how feral they make others feel.) 😔
Taesoo Ma, I can imagine him having a crush on Noona, but as a "real man" he stomps down on his feelings because she's already with someone else. "Bros before hos"--but said in a more respectful way wahahaha
I imagine Seokdu Wang and Noona to have a truly platonic friendship. She respects his vegan lifestyle and helps him with his diet plan.
Gongseob Ji and Noona have a frenemy relationship. He sees how men fall for her and thinks it's hilarious. He's all for the drama. She calls him "corrupt monk," kinda like how Frieren calls Heiter "corrupt priest."
author's note ; slightly inspired by Ocean’s 8, so for mood you can turn 'the investigator' or 'taking out the trash' from Ocean’s8 soundtrack album🕯️💋💄
summary ; when king of Busan is released from prison, his first stop is to confront the person who betrayed him.
the room was steeped in quiet tension even before you arrived. Jinrang sat in the armchair, shrouded in shadows, his fingers drumming idly against the leather armrest. the soft hum of the city outside seeped through partially open window. your apartment smelled faintly of jasmine and red wine, an intoxicating mix that reminded him of you.
he had enough time to spent thinking about you. about the way you’d always slip out of his arms after a long nights, your lips teasing promises you would never keep. you had always been untouchable, a wild thing he could never cage.
you wasn’t his. not really. you never had been.
but tonight, as he waited, he told himself you owed him. you owed him for the nights you left him aching, for the betrayal that sent him to rot behind bars, for making him believe, even for a fleeting moment, that you could be tamed.
the door clicked open, and his gaze darted to the entrance.
you stepped inside, your heels clicked loudly against the hardwood floor, and your silhouette framed in the dim light. you paused briefly when your eyes found him, but you didn’t flinch. shoulders remained calm, chin slightly tilted in that defiant way that drove him mad.
“back so soon?” you asked lightly, your voice calm, though he caught the faintest tension in its edges.
you set your purse down and turned your back to him, movements smooth and deliberate as you walked to the kitchen. he didn’t respond. instead, he watched you, his dark eyes following the graceful curve of your back, the sway of your hips. your calm facade only fueled the storm brewing inside him.
“would you like a drink?” you called over your shoulder, pulling out a bottle of wine. you poured herself a glass with steady hands, but Jinrang could see the slight tension in the way your fingers nervously gripped the stem.
still, you didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge the crackling energy in the room as you moved to the table. you set your glass down and gestured to the chair across from you.
“sit,” you said, tone inviting but laced with subtle steel.
he stood slowly, his powerful frame unfolding like a predator rising from a crouch. your confidence was a thin veil, but he didn’t want call you out on it. not yet. instead, he walked to the table, his footsteps deliberate, each one a quiet declaration of control.
his chair scraped against the floor as he joined you.
when he sat down, the air thickened.
“i must admit,” you began, voice smooth, betraying none of the tension coursing through your veins, “i am amazed by your calmness.” you tilted your head slightly, lips curving into a faint smile as you took a small sip from your glass.
his jaw tightened. you was baiting him. you always did this — pushed him to the edge just to see if he’d fall.
Jinrang didn’t answer immediately. his jaw tightened, a faint twitch playing at the corner of his mouth. when he finally spoke, his voice was deep and deliberate, every word carrying the weight of years. “you expected me to storm in? to throw a tantrum, maybe?”
your smile widened, a feline expression of amusement. “oh no, Jinrang. that’s not your style. but i did wonder if you’d show up at all.”
he leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. “and here i am, with the woman who betrayed me. and she acting as though we’re here for a friendly dinner.”
“betrayal?” you set your glass down with a soft clink, your brows rose in mock surprise. “that’s a harsh word. i’d call it… making a business decision.”
an that did it.
in one swift motion, he was on his feet, his chair skidding back with a violent screech. you barely had time to react before his hand was around your throat, grip firm and unyielding as he pressed you into the back of your chair. wine glass trembled on the table, a single drop spilling over the rim and trailing like blood down the stem.
he towered over you, his sheer size and strength making you seem impossibly small in comparison. his voice was a low, dangerous growl as he hissed in your ear, “i rotted in prison for four years because of you. so don’t tell me about ‘business decisions,’ woman.”
your heart hammered in the chest, a wild rhythm and blood pulsation you was certain he could feel beneath his hand. fear coiled in your stomach, cold and sharp, but you refused to show it. your eyes locked with his, defiance flickering like a match against a hurricane.
“you don’t scare me, Jinrang,” you rasped, tring to make your voice as steady as possible, despite the pressure on your throat.
his grip tightened just enough to remind you of his power. and it worked when the edges of your vision blurring slightly as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your cheek. “you should be scared,” he murmured, his voice a deadly whisper. “you have no idea how much i’ve thought about killing you.”
your lips twitched into a faint, foxy smile despite the situation. “and yet… you’re here,” you said, your voice softer now, almost mocking. “in my home. unable to stay away.”
a low, humorless chuckle rumbled from his chest. “you’ve always been good at playing games, haven’t you? always outsmarting me, always—”
click.
the sound was soft but unmistakable. Jinrang froze, the cold pressure of metal against his groin anchoring him in place. he didn’t need to look down to know you had drawn a gun, the barrel pressed firmly against his most vulnerable spot.
your free hand, hidden beneath the table, held the weapon steady. the sharp curve of your lips deepened, your smile now wicked and triumphant.
“i’ll give you credit,” you said lightly, voice dripping with mockery. “you almost had me this time. almost.”
his eyes blazed with fury, his jaw clenching so tightly you thought it might crack. slowly, his hand loosened from your throat, though he didn’t step back. “you think this is a game?” he growled, his voice shaking with barely restrained rage.
you tilted her head, feigning innocence as you met his glare. “oh, Jinrang. it’s always been a game. and you’ve always been the one chasing.”
his massive hand slammed onto the table beside you, making the wine glass jump and the walls tremble with the force of it.
you flinched.
his expression was a storm, dark and deadly, but beneath the anger was something else — a simmering tension that neither of you could deny.
“you’re lucky i didn’t come here to kill you,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice low and raw.
“and you’re lucky i don’t feel like pulling the trigger,” you countered smoothly, your smile as sharp as a blade.
for a moment, you two stayed like that, locked in a dangerous stalemate. his towering frame loomed over you, your much smaller form unyielding despite the gun you held. the air between you was thick with more than just hostility — it was electric, a charged tension that neither could escape.
finally, he stepped back, his movements slow, deliberate. you lowered the gun but didn’t put it away, keeping it resting casually on your lap...
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the moment the door closed behind him, the tension you had fought so hard to suppress unraveled like a snapped thread. the air felt heavier, as if the weight of his presence still lingered in the room.
your hand rose instinctively to your neck, your fingers brushing the tender skin where his grip had been. the faint ache made you shudder, a physical reminder of the power he wielded, the raw force he had so easily used to remind you who he was.
your hand trembled as it fell away from your neck, and you pressed it to your forehead, closing your eyes.
get a grip, you told yourself, but it was no use. your breathing was shallow, uneven, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t push away the memory of his hand pinning you to the chair, his towering frame blotting out the world around you.
you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the table as your other hand clutched the cool marble surface. the gun you’d pointed at him now sat discarded on the table, its presence doing nothing to erase the fear that had coiled tightly in your chest the moment he rose from that chair.
your fingers brushed the stem of your wine glass, but you didn’t pick it up. instead, you bowed your head, letting the weight of the moment crash over you in waves.
you had always been good at the game. you thrived on it, played it better than anyone. but tonight… tonight you’d felt the danger in his eyes, the crack in his control. for the first time in a long time, you wondered if you’d pushed him too far...
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Jinrang gripped the steering wheel in his car, his knuckles white against the leather. the city lights blurred as his mind raced, replaying the encounter over and over.
your defiance had been there, of course — it always was. you’d held your head high, your sharp tongue slicing through the thick silence between you two like always.
but beneath it… he had felt it.
your pulse, wild and frantic beneath his fingers. the subtle quiver in your breath. the way your body had tensed when he loomed over you, when he slammed his hand on the table.
you’d been scared.
it should’ve felt satisfying, knowing that for once, he had managed to crack your armor. but it didn’t. instead, it left a bitter taste in his mouth, a gnawing unease that twisted in his gut.
he leaned back in the driver’s seat, exhaling slowly as his mind drifted, unbidden, to a memory he hadn’t thought of in years.
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it was late, the kind of late where the world seemed suspended in stillness.
you had worn one of his shirts, the fabric comically oversized on your smaller frame. it was white, crisp, and hung off one shoulder, revealing smooth skin and a teasing hint of collarbone.
“you look silly,” he’d said, smirking, but there was warmth in his voice.
you’d rolled your eyes, sinking onto the couch beside him with a grace. your legs tucked beneath you as you leaned against his side. “it’s comfortable,” you’d shot back.
he’d been reading something, but whatever it was had quickly been forgotten as you leaned against him, your head resting lightly on his shoulder.
for once, you weren’t trying to outmaneuver him, to tease or provoke. you were just… there.
eventually, you shifted, your body sinking deeper into his side until your head slipped down to his lap.
he’d frozen at first, unsure if you’d even realized what you’d done. but then he heard your breath, slow and steady, felt the weight of your body fully relaxed against him.
you’d fallen asleep, your cheek pressing into his thigh, and your hair scatter over his lap.
he’d stared down at you, his large hand hovering over your hair for what felt like forever. and then, finally, he’d let it settle, his fingers brushing lightly against your temple.
you had been so vulnerable, so open in that moment. it was a side of you he rarely saw, and it had burned itself into his memory, the softness of it, the fragility.
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Jinrang blinked, the memory dissolving as the harsh reality of the present returned. he drummed his fingers on the wheel, the tension in his chest refusing to fade.
you had been vulnerable tonight, too, but not in the same way. tonight, it had been fear — not trust — that left you exposed.
and it unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
he shook his head, shoving the thought away. you played your game. you always did.
but no matter how many times you slipped through his fingers, no matter how many times you pointed a gun at his heart —or worse, his groin — he knew he’d come back.
because you were the only one who had ever made him feel this alive.
