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new part tomorrow or after that !!

And Hope to Die | Han Jisung

◤“Her voice was softer and smoother than he anticipated, but why did he even expect her to sound like a fragment of his darkest nightmares in the first place?” In which a man who wants nothing to do with the mafia is chosen by its most infamous members. ◤Disclaimers: Female reader insert. Chapter four from the ‘dead men don’t speak’ series. Angst. Descriptions of violence, blood, injury, and death. Usage of profanities. ◤Word count: 3.5K ◤Note: This idea is mine and any case of similarity with someone else’s is purely coincidental. Events are pure fiction. Please do not take my content without my consent. Masterlist.

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"Congratulations on your promotion!"

Those four words were the worst Jisung had ever heard in his life, but his colleagues seemed to think otherwise. They pounced on him, each with a proud slap to his back or a playful punch to his shoulder.

He stood between them like a twig helpless to the tides of the sea, jostled about without regard.

He didn't want a promotion.

He wanted out of this mess.

As he was pondering over all the ways the universe seemed to personally despise him, the door to the meeting room opened, and two strangers stepped in.

His colleagues immediately fell into a hush and bowed their heads in greeting, their small huddle around him dissipating. "Good afternoon, commanders!"

Not strangers, he realized with a chill as he mimicked the rest. He simply hadn't the opportunity to interact with them up close to recognize them. But he had heard of them. Who in the Shadow Front hadn't?

Seo Changbin, the one who wore an eye patch. Y/n, the one who wore a burgundy coat. Two commanders of the Chaos Crescent infamous for being downright insane.

Jisung wanted to jump out the nearest window.

"Han Jisung. That's you, right?"

He tensed up for a second. Her voice was softer and smoother than he anticipated, but why did he even expect her to sound like a fragment of his darkest nightmares in the first place?

"Yes," he squared his shoulders when he answered, daring to hold her—disconcertingly—sparkly gaze.

Why him?

Jisung had nothing to offer besides an uninspired soul, yet there she was, extending her hand out to him. “We’re excited to have you on board Action Unit 19, Han.”

That was his chance. He had better decline this ridiculous promotion and hope that if he weren’t to be released from this farce of a life, he’d at least remain in the bottom ranks where no eye nor mind regarded him.

But she was still looking at him intently, absorbing every millisecond of his hesitation with those knowing eyes. Behind her, the commander of Action Unit 17 regarded him with as much interest as one would grant a fly on the wall.

It appeared that his so-called chance was a farce, too.

Sure that fate was laughing its twisted ass off at him, Jisung clasped the hand of his new boss.

“Thank you, commander.”

•⭓•

Action Unit 19 was always busy solely by virtue of being yours, for you never sat still and never lingered in one place for too long. This new lifestyle was the very opposite of each of Jisung’s unheard hopes.

It was his third week, and he was standing amidst the havoc being wreaked by his comrades, idle. If any will was left in his empty soul, it was definitely not spared to raise the gun in his loose grasp or engage himself in the raid they’d been tasked with. It was a miracle he’d even survived this long, having been doing the exact same thing on every mission so far—absolutely nothing.

If anyone in his unit noticed, he was sure they’d kill him for it, or at least pummel him to the ground because that was the kind of unit he’d been promoted to.

One that would answer, ‘how high?’ if their commander told them to jump.

It moved Jisung’s soul not one bit.

In his impassive state, he felt a weight crash into him, nearly toppling him to the ground had he not quickly caught his footing.

The man who had collided with him was now clutching his issued suit. A bruised cheekbone and a busted lip, yet he snarled at him, spitting blood, “Go to hell.”

Frankly, Jisung couldn’t be bothered to fight him off, so he only stared back at him.

An enemy. Maybe he could finally release him from his hell.

The man fished out a knife, and it glinted with the tantalizing light of freedom, before it was snuffed out by two dreadful gunshots.

A bullet to his arm and another to his neck, and he convulsed, choking, letting go, dying. Exposing Jisung’s actions, or lack thereof, to his comrades.

The floor they’d been fighting in quietened, the silence only disrupted by the bold clacking of dress shoes and your demanding question behind him.

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t turn around to face you, gaze still fixed at the dying man now crumpled at his feet. There went the chance he’d been waiting for.

Jisung doubted that you wanted his answer to that question because he was doing nothing, and that was the exact problem. His listlessness placed the rest of his unit in danger, and any resulting casualties would be your burden to carry in front of the higherups.

But he didn’t really care.

He knew better, in the depths of his mind, than to anger his boss. Still, he held on to the inkling of hope that maybe this way, you’d realize your mistake of hiring him and demote him back to the solitary humdrum of the lower ranks.

Anything to destroy this ever-growing snowball of mistakes.

You scoffed, and it sent a terrible chill down his spine. “I guess you don’t care if you died then.”

His body snapped in your direction, fast enough to see you point your gun straight at his head. Strangely, and against all reason, his heart lurched with the most sickening feeling. Wait—

Three gunshots deafened him as they echoed. Before he could speak. Before he could blink. Before he could breathe.

You were known to be wasteful with your bullets, but your aim was never sloppy, and instead of searing pain, Jisung heard a shriek from behind him.

Oh. Figures you wouldn’t actually shoot him.

He was frozen in place when you strode past him, your face a blank slate that somehow made the threat leaving your lips worse, “Get your act straight or you’ll wish those bullets went through your skull instead.”

•⭓•

Jisung thought that few things were more suffocating than his waking hours, one of which was being awake and in a party.

He managed to slip out of the loud hall with unsurprising ease. He was only a rookie in Action Unit 19, after all. No one would ask for his particular company during the half-year party where the entirety of the Shadow Front, bosses and underlings alike, gathered to drink and sweettalk their ways into higher positions.

Eager to be as far away from their pretenses, Jisung eventually found himself opening the door to the rooftop and stepping out to a stunning sunset. Even from this height, the view of the sky was the same as that seen by the passengers of the cars zooming below. Innocents who’d committed no mistakes as grave as his, and still got to enjoy something so mundane.

He leaned into the ceramic railing and nearly jumped out of his skin when a hum sounded behind him.

“The sky is green.”

He spun around so quickly he should’ve lost his balance, but Jisung only sputtered out, “Ma’am—!”

It turned out there were others beside himself who sought a breath of fresh air.

You were lying on the bare concrete, one outstretched leg over the other with your signature coat bundled up to cushion your head. How he hadn’t noticed you from the start was a wonder he could only attribute to the clouding of his mind, wanting nothing more than to escape the party.

As if his situation wasn’t sufficiently awkward on its own, there was the added fact that Jisung had been lying low ever since you rebuked him during the raid. Now, he was alone on the deserted rooftop with you and no smooth way to make an exit.

Damn it.

“Han Jisung.”

Maybe he should’ve stayed at that wretched party.

“I know you don’t want to be here.”

He stiffened at your words, carried by the soft breeze to his cold ears.

“I’ve known it for a while. Ever since your recruitment.”

So what? It wasn’t like he tired too hard to hide it. His life had been tainted by this organization, and he didn’t remember how or when it all began. Only that he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“But here’s the thing,” you sighed, and he heard the whisper of fabric as you sat up. “There’s nowhere but here for you and me.”

You were right. Of course you would be. Hands so thoroughly steeped with blood like his could have no other occupation.

“So quit this rebellion of yours. It’s only going to kill you in the end and you know they don’t hold nice funerals for people like us.”

Jisung didn’t need to have this heart-to-heart with a criminal. He knew there was no getting out of this alive, let alone unscathed. Still, he had to try. He had to do something, anything, otherwise that bastard—

“Why are you even doing all this?”

Your question—perhaps prompted by his silence, or perhaps ignited by your curiosity—forced him to finally look at you and absorb the way the golden sunset bathed your skin. A divine halo for the most wicked of devils.

You were all too relaxed, head tilted back to regard him almost lazily, and somehow, for whatever reason, his heart skipped a beat. Or dropped to the pits of hell. It was a feeling that unsettled him either way, and Jisung found himself at a loss for words.

“I…”

Or maybe his words were so abundant that he didn’t know where to start, or whether it was even appropriate for him to say what was on his mind. You seemed to notice too, for you let out a humored huff, “Well, whatever it is, I can tell you don’t actually want to get yourself killed.”

“Of course not,” he stated a bit too roughly, fists curling into themselves as he gritted out his frustration, “I’m just—”

He was helpless. There was nothing he could do to resolve his situation without hurting his sister, and he couldn’t bear for his days to go on without change either.

“I see,” you murmured when he lapsed into silence again. He didn’t know what exactly you ‘saw’, but he supposed reading others came with your job description.

You rose to your feet and dusted off your burgundy coat as though your business was concluded. Without so much as another glance his way, you turned for the rooftop’s door, imparting onto him a few last words that had clearly, very easily, seen entirely through him.

“What you are is angry, Han Jisung. Make use of it.”

There was that twisted feeling in his chest again.

Jump.

•⭓•

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing in this house?!”

The beer can, intended for Jisung’s head, clanged against the paving that led to the house. The assault did not deter Jisung, and he shouted back, “You used it all for your fucking drugs didn’t you? I gave that money to Mina!”

The assailant heaved with drunken anger. Once upon a time, Jisung knew him as his stepfather, but this man was no more than a stranger, now. He had lost himself to alcohol and narcotics after his wife’s abandonment and grew to resent her son as though it were his sworn duty.

His hatred was something that Jisung didn’t care for too much. He was an adult and had no reason to associate himself with this deteriorating household anymore. A luxury, yet he kept returning to this family because of her.

“That money wasn’t yours,” Jisung snarled, “Give it back.”

“You son of a bitch—!” the man's face reddened, as though he were choking on his own words. “I told you not to come here again! We don’t need your filthy money—”

“Right,” Jisung had to let out a bitter laugh. “That’s why you had to take the money I gave to my sister—”

“She’s not your sister!”

The shout should’ve rattled him, but Jisung stood his ground as his stepfather descended, fuming, hands outstretched as if to catch him by the collar and strangle him. He spat like a sputtering kettle, “I don’t want to hear her name coming from your mouth ever again—”

“Damn, you’re really insecure, huh?”

That voice did not belong in their family’s front yard, and it brought immediate quiet upon them. Jisung’s head snapped up, his heart sinking.

What the hell are you—

“Who the fuck are you?” his stepfather demanded, faltering in his angry steps as he glared at the intruder wandering into their property. Jisung could only watch, helpless, because he couldn’t simply exclaim at his boss’ face to leave.

“My name is Y/n,” you provided, a pleasant, yet utterly bland smile on your face as you walked up to the swaying drunkard. A black business card seemingly materialized between your fingers and you held it out to him, introducing yourself further, “I’m a general manager at House of Cosmos. Nice to meet you.”

“What the— How did you get in here? This is private property!” he hissed, completely ignoring your outstretched hand, and Jisung saw the masked disdain in your gaze grow. Disinterested, you dropped your business card on the ground and pointed behind you, shrugging, “Door’s wide open.”

And it was. The gate to their property was unlocked and yawning on its old hinges. Still, that didn’t explain your presence.

“Anyway, I’m here for my colleague,” you remarked, casually slinging an arm around Jisung’s shoulders and lying through your teeth with such terrifying ease. “You see, I offered to drive him to the company barbeque so I came by, but then—"

“I don’t care. Get out, both of you,” his stepfather interjected forcefully and you ceased your story making, letting go of Jisung’s stunned form with a scrunch of your nose and a mutter, “Huh...”

The man seemed to lean to his left a bit too steeply, a bit too slowly, slurring and struggling with this words, “A-And if I see your… face around here again—I s-swear I’ll—Argh—!”

The thud of his body against the yellowing grass was quiet.

A beat passed, then—

“I guess all that alcohol caught up to him, huh?” you murmured and Jisung stared, eyes like glass, at the limp body of the man he loathed more than anybody else. The cause and very source of all his misery and turmoil, motionless for once in his worthless life.

What the hell just happened—?

“Hello?” your voice was muffled through the fog in his mind as you called emergency services. “A man collapsed in front of us—I think from a stroke… Yeah… Middle-aged, I believe. Okay. We’re at 11B street, Villa 1053C…”

No. No. No!

Jisung’s breaths were coming too short, his vision too dark.

He’s dead? How can he be dead? I didn’t even touch him—

“Okay. We’ll do that. Thank you.”

You ended the call and he spun to face you, grabbing your arms in manic desperation as he gasped, “They’re going to arrest us now— They’ll think I did it—!”

You seemed all too slow to react to his outburst, wriggling out of his grasp with a dispassionate sigh, “Relax. You’ve got witnesses.”

“Witnesses?” he stepped back. “Who exactly?”

You furrowed your brows at him as if confused by his panic, then pointed at yourself, “Me.”

At the corner of the house, “the camera.”

Then somewhere above the two of you, “and her.”

Jisung’s gaze followed your finger to the window on the second floor and met the wide eyes of his sister gaping down at the scene. He realized, with a pang, that she had seen it all transpire despite every effort he’d made to keep her away from their fights all these years.

“Anyway, you know some first aid right?” you crouched next to his stepfather’s body, beckoning with your hand, “Come help me—”

“What are you really doing here?”

Jisung’s question made you stop and frown at him again, answering like it were the most obvious thing, “I’m here for you. Did I not say that?”

You did say that, but it made no sense and he was pretty sure it was a lie made to trick his stepfather.

“You weren’t picking up and I was nearby,” you told him simply. “Now, If you’re done with your questions, come help.”

“I…see.”

Again, that feeling nagged at him.

Jump.

•⭓•

Two men in smart black suits halted in their steps when Jisung passed by, making way as they greeted him, “Good morning, VP.”

“G’morning,” he raised his free hand in a half-wave when he returned the greeting. In Jisung’s other hand was a hefty weight he’d been dragging across the floor. It left a faint red trail behind him, but he didn’t care much. Their janitor wasn’t going to be cleaning anything anytime soon, anyway.

He smiled at the two guards and dropped the body at their feet. “Take care of this for me, will you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Feeling much lighter, Jisung resumed his way to his original destination. He was supposed to be there seven minutes ago, but there had been a minor distraction on his little trip. His tardiness wouldn’t be an issue, though, but the smudged blood on his gloves was, most definitely, unacceptable.

With a sigh, he pulled off his gloves and shoved them into the inner pockets of his blazer. It was a shame, truly. He really tried to make as little a mess as possible this time.

Jisung reached his destination and knocked on the polished door, pushing it open before getting his answer.

“You’re late,” you stated immediately upon his stepping into your office.

“Sorry,” he said as he shut the door behind him. “Caught a rat in the janitor’s closet.”

“Another one, huh?” you chuckled like it were a joke and not an attempt at your life, once again. Jisung clenched his jaw to bite back his frustrations.

You were lying haphazardly on one of the couches in your vast office. Feet propped up against the backrest and your head nearly dangling off the edge. Jisung didn’t know which was worse—your shoes against the leather or the fact that you were supposed to be recovering in bed today.

Farther towards the tall windows, someone else stood gazing out at the city with disinterest. Not once did he turn back to acknowledge Jisung’s entry, likely too unbothered to expend the effort, but that was to be expected of the Right Claw. Second only to the Boss, Seo Changbin wouldn’t even take more breaths than he was absolutely required to.

Jisung shut away the disappointment that flooded his chest at seeing him.

“You asked for me?” he questioned once he stood near the couch and you looked up at him from where you lay, grinning. Only then did he notice the pristine envelope in your grasp.

“Come take a look. It’s an invitation from the prince of the underworld.”

Jisung received the envelope from you and took out its one page contents. The letter was short, simple, and made his blood boil instantly.

Your voice sounded from behind the paper. ��What do you think?”

“I think he’s either stupid or stupidly full of himself to order you around,” he said, and he was cooler and calmer than he’d imagined himself to be because in all honesty, Jisung wanted to tear the paper to shreds then set it all ablaze.

And after what those bastards did…

He folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. The so-called prince of the underworld was an audacious man, but this was an opportunity and Jisung was going to catch it by the tail. “I’ll go.”

“No,” you didn’t miss a beat. “We’ll go together.”

“Why? I can give him a piece of my mind just fine.”

You were silent to his protest, but the sudden darkness that shadowed your gaze screamed louder than any voice could. And Jisung heard it.

His emotions ran impossibly hotter, his whisper so chillingly low.

“So… Jeongin found something.”

“Yes,” you smiled and it made him crumble inside.

That wasn’t satisfaction or excitement. It was pain and old suffering that quirked your lips, and it had been that way for a while now.

He hated it.

He despised it so much that it sickened him to his very core.

So, Jisung allowed your desire for revenge to consume him whole. This mantle wasn’t his own, yet he carried its heavy weight on his shoulders because he was willing to do anything. A world that dimmed the spark in your eyes was a world that ought to be damned.

And so, he let that angry flame burn.

Your orders were soft, not at all demanding, “That’s why we’ll both go entertain the little prince.”

Jump.

Jisung smiled. “As you wish.”

How high?

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Thank you for reading this far! I'm so sorry this one got delayed a bunch, but I hope it was an enjoyable read anyway. A reblog and any feedback would be greatly appreciated. I hope you have a spectacular day, and I'll see you next week (hopefully) with the fifth chapter! ♡

#I’ll try to stick to the former for my own sanity but lmao u never know

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chaninfused · 1 month