The Thief & The Thrant

1. The Night Before Seoul

Seoul in the dead of night was a gorgeous, chaotic spectacle. Down below, the city hummed with endless motion-streams of golden headlights and neon signs reflecting off polished pavement, and soaring skyscrapers cutting into the dark sky like man-made constellations. From a distance, the vast sea of urban lights flickered softly, looking less like a metropolis and more like an endless ocean of glowing starfish scattered across the dark earth.

But high above the noise, perched on the isolated crest of a jagged hill, stood a place where those vibrant lights went to die.

It wasn't merely a house; it was an imposing, deadly beautiful fortress carved directly into the dark stone of the hillside. Built from black monolithic marble, reinforced steel, and seamless, tinted glass, the architecture exuded an aura of silent, dangerous authority. The structure commanded the entire landscape, staring down at the glowing city below like an apex predator watching over its domain from the shadows.

A long, sweeping pathway of dark, polished slate carved its way through the dense pine trees, lit only by soft, recessed ground lights that cast deep, dramatic shadows against the stone walls.

Stretching out toward the edge of the cliff was a massive, dark infinity pool. Its ink-black water was so perfectly still it mirrored the night sky, creating the illusion of swimming directly into the sea of city lights far below. Line after line of sleek, low-profile lay-down lounge seats lined the edge of the water, sitting empty and cold under the moonlight.

Just beyond the pool, behind a massive, floor-to-ceiling glass window, stood Jeon Jungkook like a monument of absolute ice.

Sharp, pitch-black eyes stared out at the sea of lights, completely devoid of any human emotion. He was shrouded in black from head to toe-fitted black leather gloves tightly encased his long fingers, hiding every inch of skin on his hands. Not a single patch of flesh was exposed except for his neck and the very top of his sternum, where the first two buttons of his crisp black shirt were left carelessly open. Through that narrow gap, a hint of dark ink peeked out, rising from his chest toward his collarbone.

Between his full, rosy lips rested a burning cigarette.

Lifting a gloved hand, he pulled the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling a thick cloud of grey smoke that smeared against the cold glass.

"W-We... can't find him, Myrant," a voice stuttered directly into the sleek black earbud fitted in Jungkook's right ear. The man on the other end was trembling, his breath ragged with absolute terror. "We swept the entire lower district. He's completely vanished-"

Jungkook didn't blink. He didn't even raise his voice. When he spoke, his tone was a quiet, deadly baritone that chilled the room faster than the night wind outside.

"Then why do I have you?"

Silence hit the other end of the line, heavy and suffocating.

"I don't pay you to tell me what you failed to do," Jungkook continued smoothly, his gloved fingers crushing the burning tip of the cigarette without feeling a thing. "I give you forty-eight hours. If you don't bring him to me bound at the knees, I won't just replace you. I will personally chop you into pieces and feed you to the stray dogs in the alley you searched so poorly."

He tossed the crushed cigarette aside.
"Do not call me again without a location."

With a flick of his gloved finger against the earbud, he severed the connection instantly.

The heavy mahogany doors of the study glided open without a sound.

Namjoon stepped inside, his broad, towering frame commanding immediate respect. He wore a crisp, dark dress shirt that was tailored within an inch of its life, stretching tightly over his massive shoulders and thick chest. The top buttons were open just enough to reveal sharp, dark ink rising up his collar, lining his neck and framing the prominent ridge of his Adam's apple.