Tiger Inside Chapter Thirty-Nine
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WC: 3.9k
Pairing: Lee Know x reader
Genre: Series, Enemies to lovers, non-idol AU, Mafia AU
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, drinking, violence, weapons
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The rack stood in the corner like a silent jury, the dresses I'd been avoiding for days hanging in judgment. I'd convinced myself that time might somehow make the decision easier, that distance would bring clarity. But the gala had arrived faster than my courage, and now I was out of excuses.
I took a deep breath and picked up the dress bags off the rack, arranging them neatly on my bed. I slowly unzipped each one just enough to get a look of the satin, chiffon, and silk that were glistening subtly in the light. But as I looked over the collection, still, none of them excited me.
As I reached for the final zipper, something made me pause. Had I miscounted? My fingers hesitated, something prickling at the back of my neck. When I pulled the bag open, the black satin that emerged was definitely nothing Felix or Jisung had shown me before.
I found myself drawn to this mysterious addition first, carefully lifting it from its bag, the fabric sliding free and pooling softly on the floor as I held it up in front of me.
Yeah, this one was definitely new.
I figured Felix or Jisung must’ve slipped it in at the last minute, probably a late arrival they’d kept under wraps to surprise me. Classic move. However, something about the elegant simplicity of it felt different from their usual choices. More calculated, more... precise.
At first glance, the gown was deceptively simple, sleek black satin that cascaded to the floor in an elegant silhouette. But as my eyes traveled the length of it, certain details began to stand out. The high slit running up the leg was impossible to ignore, offering a bold contrast to the otherwise understated design. The bust line was clean and straight, giving me confidence that I wouldn’t accidentally flash an entire ballroom of associates. The delicate spaghetti straps, however, inspired less certainty.
And then I caught sight of the back–or rather, the lack of it.
I sighed. Of course, a drop back. Bare and unapologetic. The satin dipped low, draping like liquid over the middle of the back, leaving everything else exposed. I stared at it for a moment, the daring design making me question whether I might actually prefer if that dramatic scoop had been in the front instead.
Curiosity won out, and I slipped the dress on, letting the fabric glide effortlessly over my skin. The fit was impeccable, hugging every curve in all the right places as if it had been made just for me.
It was elegant. Bold. Powerful.
The low back, which had initially seemed too daring, now felt like a quiet statement of confidence. Unexpectedly, I found myself liking it more with each passing second. I turned slowly in front of the mirror, watching the way the fabric moved with me. It caught the light in just the right way, making its presence known without trying too hard.
I couldn’t say for certain which of the two to thank for this choice, but a small smile tugged at my lips as I studied my reflection.
This was it.
This was definitely my dress for the night.
I spent the next hour preparing with methodical care, each step a small ritual to quiet the anticipation buzzing under my skin. My makeup needed to be flawless tonight, soft and polished for the most part, but with just enough drama around the eyes to command attention. The wound on my shoulder kept its presence known, still visible despite my careful layering of concealer. I couldn't completely hide it, but at least the makeup dulled its appearance enough that it wouldn't draw immediate attention. I let my hair fall in loose waves down my back, the style achieving that perfect balance of effortless and refined that the gown exuded.
Stepping back from the vanity, I studied my reflection carefully, checking every detail. Despite my initial doubts, I had to admit whoever had chosen this dress understood exactly what this night required. Each glimpse of myself sparked something that felt dangerously close to confidence.
I pulled together the finishing touches. Delicate diamond earrings, and a bracelet that caught the light just enough to complement without competing with the dress. As I slipped into my heels and grabbed my clutch from the nightstand, I took a steadying breath. The woman staring at me in the mirror looked ready for whatever the night might bring. I just hoped that she was right.
The sound of my heels clicking lightly against the wooden floor echoed as I walked to my door, each step making the reality of the night ahead feel more tangible. I paused at the top of the stairs, brushing my hands down the dress to smooth out any imaginary wrinkles.
“Alright,” I muttered to myself, steadying my nerves with a quiet exhale. “Let’s do this.”
As I made my way down the stairs, the familiar sound of voices started to reach me. A few of the guys had congregated in the living room, their conversation frequently interrupted by laughter. When I arrived at the bottom step, I paused for a moment to observe them.
Hyunjin, Felix, and Jisung stood in their crisp suits, looking every bit the part of men ready to take on a gala. Felix was adjusting his cuffs, Jisung was grinning at something Hyunjin had said, and Hyunjin was straightening his tie in a mirror by the wall.
The conversation died down as I stepped into the foyer, all three of them turning their attention toward me.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Their reactions were varying, but unanimous in their admiration. Hyunjin raised a brow, a small smirk tugging at his lips. Felix looked as though he were about to burst with pride, his hands frozen mid-adjustment. And Jisung, ever the animated one, let out an audible “Wow.”
“Well?” I asked, fighting the urge to fidget under their gazes and offering a teasing smile. “Do I pass the test?”
Felix was the first to break the silence, a wide grin spreading across his face. “Pass? You just set the damn bar.”
Hyunjin nodded in agreement, his expression softening. “You look incredible.”
Jisung beamed, his enthusiasm radiating off of him. “Honestly? You’re about to make every person in that ballroom forget how to speak.”
I chuckled, shaking my head at their compliment, though a warm flush crept up my neck. “Alright, alright. Enough flattery, please. You all look amazing, but are you three just planning to stand around all night admiring yourselves in the mirror?”
Felix tilted his head, his brows knitting together in curiosity as he studied the dress further. “Wait, actually… where did that dress come from? I don’t remember you trying that one on.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “You didn’t pick it?”
Felix shook his head, the crease between his brows deepening. “Nope. I mean, it’s stunning, don’t get me wrong, but I’d definitely remember choosing that one.”
I pursed my lips, glancing over at Jisung, who was still grinning like a child. “Well if it wasn’t Felix, that leaves you, right?”
Jisung held up his hands innocently, his grin widening. “Not me either.”
My eyes narrowed at him as my skepticism grew. “Really? Because you’re acting rather suspicious.”
He shrugged, the mischief in his eyes still only growing. “Sorry to disappoint, but it wasn’t me.”
“Then who–” I began, but Jisung cut me off with a wave of his hand.
“Does it really matter?” He asked, his tone light and evasive. “You look amazing in it, that’s what counts, right?”
I crossed my arms, leveling him with a pointed stare. “So you do know who it was.”
Jisung smiled, brushing off the accusation with ease, although the slight blush started to betray him. “Maybe. Maybe not. A little mystery makes life more fun, don’t you think?” He chuckled nervously, already backing away slightly like he was preparing an escape route.
I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms as I stepped a little closer. “Jisung…”
Before I could press him further, he shifted his weight onto his good leg and, with a quick pivot, began heading toward the door. “But com’on! We’ve got a gala to attend! Let’s not keep everyone waiting!” His cane clicked against the floor as he moved surprisingly fast, almost tripping over himself in his rush to avoid any further questions.
“Smooth, Ji.” I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes.
Before I could stew too long on his suspicious behavior, Felix appeared at my side, sliding his arm through mine with a warm smile.
“Let’s go, Cinderella,” he said, his voice soft and playful as he gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. “Your chariot awaits.”
I let him lead me outside, the cool night air brushing against my skin. The rest of the group was clustered around the cars, their voices blending with the hum of the engines idling nearby.
I spotted Chan, Jeongin, and Seungmin grouped near one SUV as Hyunjin approached. Their heads bent together as they talked about last-minute logistics. Changbin, Minho, and Jisung stood waiting by the second SUV, looking effortlessly composed in their suits.
Felix guided me forward, his arm still linked with mine, but I could feel the weight of their eyes on me. For a moment, nerves bubbled up, but I pushed them down, keeping my head held high.
Tonight was not the night for second-guessing myself.
Changbin noticed me first, his gaze sweeping over me before a wide grin spread across his face. "Look at you," he said with a low whistle, genuine warmth in his voice. "You're going to have everyone in that ballroom wondering who let a queen walk among them."
"Says the man who looks like he walked straight out of a noir film," I teased back, taking in his crisp vest and rolled sleeves, jacket draped casually over one arm. "The dangerous look suits you, Bin."
Felix squeezed my arm gently before releasing it. "Let me get everyone their comms," he said, heading to the first SUV where Chan, Jeongin and Seungmin waited. I watched as he distributed their earpieces with efficiency, each member tucking the nearly invisible devices into place.
I glanced at Minho, who stood beside Jisung, hands casually tucked into the pockets of his long black coat. At first, he didn't say anything, didn't even move. His gaze traveled slowly upward, the sharp lines of his suit and sandy hair catching the light as his eyes lingered in a way that made heat crawl up my spine, before his usual casual mask slipped perfectly back into place.
"What's wrong?" I teased, tilting my head slightly. "Cat finally caught that sharp tongue of yours?"
Jisung subtly elbowed him in the side, breaking whatever trance had held him. His carefully crafted neutral expression returned, though something still simmered beneath the surface. "It suits you," he said, his measured tone not quite masking the tension underneath.
“Wow, high praise coming from you,” I said, tilting my head slightly, trying to bite back with a smile. “Should I be flattered?”
He only shrugged with a subtle clearing of the throat, turning toward the car as if the conversation was over, but I caught the way his jaw clenched, his fingers flexing briefly before he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.
Felix returned, distributing the remaining earpieces to our group with ease. His eyes flickered between Minho and me as he handed over mine, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
He leaned in closer, watching as Minho tried very hard to appear busy with adjusting his own earpiece, the hue of his ears betraying him. "Well," he whispered, amusement clear in his voice, "I've never seen him quite this thrown off balance before."
I laughed softly, shaking my head as I turned toward the car. “Let’s just get to the gala,” I murmured, but I couldn’t deny the small, unexpected spark of satisfaction that warmed my chest when I caught Minho stealing one more glance before slipping into the driver’s seat.
Felix held the back door open with a slight bow, ever the gentleman even in moments like these. I slid into the seat directly behind Minho, the leather cool against my bare back as Jisung and Felix filed into the other seats around me. The car felt smaller somehow tonight, charged with an energy I wasn't ready to name.
The drive to the gala was filled with quiet conversation and a faint hum of nerves. Changbin cracked a few jokes from the passenger seat to lighten the mood, but even he couldn’t completely disguise his own tension. As we got closer, the air in the car seemed to shift, the weight of what was waiting for us settling over everyone.
When the car slowed and finally came to a stop, I turned my head to look out the window. My breath catching at the familiar sight from my childhood.
The building was massive, its exterior glowing under the floodlights that framed the entrance. Marble columns towered over the valet circle, and grand windows stretched high, revealing a glimpse of the dazzling chandelier-lit interior. Even from the car, I could hear the faint murmur of music and the buzz of voices. It was overwhelming in its grandeur, its opulence something I wasn’t entirely sure that I ever got used to.
Minho shifted in the driver’s seat, pulling the car neatly to a stop in front of the valet station. Without a word, he stepped out, his door clicking shut as he reached back for mine.
The back door opened, and Minho stood there, his posture collected, one hand resting lightly on the frame of the door. He avoided looking directly at me, his gaze turning briefly toward the building instead.
I stepped out carefully, feeling the cool evening air hit me once again. When I straightened, I noticed the slight tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw seemed set, and the way his eyes still pointed elsewhere.
Something about his quiet demeanor, the almost imperceptible shift in his usual confidence, made me pause. Before I could think too hard about it, I reached forward, my fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of his tie.
He stilled.
"You look good," I said quietly, straightening the knot before stepping back. In the warm glow of the entrance lights, the details of his face seemed softer somehow, his hair falling lightly across his forehead.
His eyes finally met mine, dark and intense beneath the calculated indifference he wore so well. For a moment, something unguarded flickered across his features, and the corner of his mouth lifted just slightly. Not quite a smile, but something more honest than his usual smirks. "Thanks," he said, his voice low, steady.
"Don't inflate his ego too much," Jisung's voice broke in, full of playful warning. "We might not all fit in the car with it later"
I turned, catching Jisung’s grin as he slipped out of the car with Felix right behind him. Changbin joined us a moment later, gesturing toward the grand entrance with an eager nod.
“Shall we?” Changbin asked, his voice upbeat but laced with the same sense of anticipation I felt twisting in my chest.
Minho stepped back, his hand briefly brushing against my lower back as he gestured for me to move forward. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice carrying that quiet authority I was becoming all too familiar with.
Heading toward the entrance, I couldn’t help but glance back at Minho, his tie now neatly adjusted and his expression as composed as ever. But there was still something in the way he carried himself tonight, something different, something I still couldn’t quite name.
As we caught up with the others and stepped through the doors, the sheer scale of the space inside made me falter.
The marble foyer stretched endlessly before us, its polished floors reflecting sparkles of light from the chandeliers above. Towering arches guided the eye forward to the grand staircase that descended into the heart of the ballroom. Even after years away, it still had the power to steal my breath, though now the marble halls would begin to carry different memories than the ones of my childhood.
The grand staircase seemed to stretch endlessly before us, each step drawing us closer to whatever waited below. I focused on keeping my movements graceful, though the battle between my dress and my heels was proving more challenging than anticipated. Pausing to gather the troublesome fabric, I found myself falling behind the others, cursing silently at the way the satin seemed determined to tangle around my ankles.
A shadow fell across me, and before I could look up, a familiar presence materialized at my side. Minho stood there, arm extended with an elegant casualness that only he could manage, his expression perfectly neutral except for the slightest arch of his eyebrow.
I eyed his offered arm for a moment, pride battling briefly with practicality before I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow. The solid warmth of him anchored me, steadying my steps as we descended together.
"Can't have you falling down the stairs like a newborn deer," he murmured, his voice carrying that infuriating mix of amusement and authority.
I tightened my grip on his arm just slightly, just enough to let him feel my irritation. "Remarkable how you can make being helpful sound so condescending."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "It's a gift."
Our footsteps echoed against marble as we entered the main ballroom, the space unfurling before us in a display of opulence that made my steps falter. Ten years hadn't dimmed its grandeur, if anything, the crystal chandeliers seemed to sparkle more brightly, the gilded details more striking. But where I once saw magic in these halls, I now saw carefully constructed power, each elegant detail a reminder of the world I'd left behind. And the one I was truly stepping back into.
The ballroom pulsed with quiet wealth, golden accents catching light at every turn, and ivory-draped tables scattered strategically along the edges of the room. The center remained deliberately empty, a pristine stretch of marble floor reserved for dancing that would come later. Near the entrance, clusters gathered around high-tops, while further in, more intimate seating surrounded a raised stage. Servers glided between groups with practiced precision, their silver trays laden with champagne flutes and delicate appetizers that probably cost more than most people's dinners. A string quartet played from the corner, their elegant melody weaving through the gentle buzz of conversation and careful laughter, the soundtrack of power exchanging hands.
My eyes tracked methodically across the room, cataloging faces and alliances as I'd been taught to do since childhood. Clusters of Seoul's most dangerous played their parts perfectly, champagne in hand, practiced laughs, and calculated gestures. The mix of polished wood and expensive perfume hung thick in the air, familiar yet foreign. I recognized more faces than I wanted to admit, but they were strangers now, these people who had once known me as a child.
Chan was instantly pulled away by a group of eager faces, their greetings carrying that warmth of familiarity. He caught my eye over their shoulders, gesturing toward the far side of the room. "There's a table waiting for us. I'll be there soon, okay?"
I lingered for a moment, watching him slip effortlessly into whatever role these people expected of him, before turning to the others. "This way," I said, already moving through the crowd with a careful grace.
The boys fell into formation around me naturally, a habit born from following Chan in my position for so long. But Minho... Minho moved like my shadow, close enough that I could feel the heat of him against my back. Each time someone stepped too close, his presence would shift, subtle but unmistakable, like a warning.
I told myself it was protocol, just Minho being thorough. After all, he wouldn't let a valuable asset wander unprotected through a room full of potential threats. But there was something in the way his hand kept finding reasons to brush against my lower back, how his body angled toward mine with each step, that felt less like duty and more like...
I cut that thought off before it could finish. I couldn't afford to read into things tonight, couldn't let myself get distracted by the way he made my skin buzz with each barely-there touch. There were too many eyes watching, too many sharks circling, waiting for any sign of weakness.
As we circled around the table, I took a strategic seat facing the rest of the room, smoothing my dress as I let out a small, steadying breath. Minho slid into the chair beside me, his movements casual, but calculated.
The rest of the group took their seats, leaving the one to my right empty for when Chan returned. While we had all still yet to speak, Jisung wasted not a moment before flagging down a server for drinks, his nervous energy making itself known through fidgeting fingers and a too-bright smile.
"Champagne for the table," he called out, his voice carrying a forced lightness that made Felix shoot him a knowing look.
I watched the bubbling glasses being distributed around our table, trying to focus on anything but the heat radiating from Minho beside me. The way he sat, relaxed yet alert, reminded me of a coiled spring, ready to move at a moment's notice. His presence felt overwhelming, like it was taking up more space than it should.
"You're scanning," he murmured into his glass, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
I turned slightly toward him, brows furrowed. "What?"
"Your eyes," he explained, taking a slow sip of his champagne. "They keep darting around the room. You're going to draw attention."
I forced myself to still, realizing he was right. "Force of habit," I muttered, though we both knew what, or who, I was really looking for.
The string quartet's melody wove through the air, providing a refined backdrop to the steady hum of conversation around us. Groups of people milled about, their laughter and chatter blending together into a constant murmur that filled the grand space.
Changbin leaned forward, his voice low as he addressed our table. "I see at least three major family heads already." His eyes flickered briefly to the left. "The Parks just arrived."
I resisted the urge to turn and look, instead taking a slow sip of my champagne. The bubbles felt sharp on my tongue, a welcome distraction from the growing tension in my shoulders. Around us, the room continued to fill, each new arrival adding another layer of complexity to the evening ahead.
Felix and Jisung fell into quiet conversation about some of the faces they recognized, while Changbin kept a careful eye on the entrance. But I found myself increasingly aware of Minho's silence beside me, the way his presence seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment. His fingers traced the stem of his champagne glass, his movements controlled, but I didn't miss the slight tension in his jaw or the way his eyes never stayed fixed in one place for too long.
The night was young, but already the air felt thick with unspoken words and careful calculations. We were all just pieces on a chessboard, waiting for the first move to be made.
Next Chapter (coming soon)
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