He was never supposed to be here.
Not in Russia, not in a mafia auction, and definitely not hiding behind a statue in a tuxedo that wasn't his.
But of course, Taehyun Park did it anyway.
Because Taehyun—Alpha-born, heir to Korea's elite Park conglomerate, youngest executive in his family's legacy, and most chaotic son alive—had a reputation for brilliance and disaster walking hand in hand.
"Note to self," he muttered, sipping a stolen glass of wine. "Next time you crash a criminal empire's auction, at least learn the language first."
He peeked around the edge of the giant marble sculpture, eyes scanning the luxurious ballroom. Everything here screamed excess—gold-trimmed walls, crystal chandeliers, silk curtains, and people wearing money like skin. Every guest here had blood on their hands and more secrets than bank accounts.
And then… there was him.
Vasilliy.
Cold. Cruel. Unbothered by life or death. The top of the Russian underworld food chain. He stood like the room belonged to him—because it did. In a perfectly tailored black suit, he leaned against the balcony railing like a carved statue, with eyes that had probably watched lives end without flinching.
A legend.
A monster.
A damn ten out of ten.
Taehyun whispered, "Okay, hot grim reaper spotted. Mission go time."
He pulled a small flash drive from his jacket pocket and slid it into a tablet. His fingers moved fast—his brain wired for high-risk deals, hacking servers, and surviving hostile boardrooms. He wasn't just a brat in lion slippers—he was dangerous, too.
Click. Tap. Access granted.
He was just about to download the auction data—
"Would you care for another drink, sir?"
The waiter came out of nowhere, bumping his elbow.
CRASH.
Taehyun gasped as the glass slipped from his hand, bounced off the statue pedestal—
BOOM.
The statue trembled. Tipped.
CRAAACK.
It fell in slow motion like a dying titan.
Taehyun winced. "Please don't—"
BOOM.
Dead. Silence.
He turned, every inch of his body screaming play it cool.
A hundred eyes were on him.
Including Vasilliy's.
The man's face didn't change. No anger. No confusion. Just a silent, blank stare. The kind you'd expect right before someone vanished and never got found again.
"…Hi?" Taehyun offered weakly.
Vasilliy's gaze lingered. Then he spoke softly in Russian:
"поймай его."
Catch him.
And the guards moved.
"Oh crap," Taehyun whispered, tucking the flash drive away and running like hell.
He darted through the ballroom, dodging guests, tables, and glass. People gasped. Dogs barked.
Guards shouted behind him.
"This is fine!" Taehyun yelled, already unbuttoning his jacket. "This is totally, completely fine!"
He shoved a random door open—found himself in a hallway lined with antiques. He sprinted forward, slippers squeaking on the marble. He turned a corner—
And slammed into a wall of muscle.
Except it wasn't a wall.
It was Vasilliy.
Standing like a ghost. Silent. Impossibly fast.
Taehyun backed up immediately. "Hey hey hey—let's not kill the guest, alright? You want me to pay for the statue? I can do that. Triple. Gold card."
"You are not a guest," Vasilliy said, voice like chilled steel. "You're a thief."
"Oh, wow. Judgy," Taehyun replied, palms up. "And you're… terrifyingly quiet. Like, really, do you practice that serial killer voice in the mirror?"
"Why are you here?"
"I was sightseeing. Honest."
"You hacked our security."
"Okay, I was sightseeing aggressively."
Vasilliy stepped closer. His presence was overwhelming—heavy like the air before a storm.
"I should have you killed."
"You totally could," Taehyun admitted, heart pounding. "But! That would be boring. You strike me as the 'keep your enemies alive so you can glare at them forever' type."
"You're annoying."
"Thank you."
"You're lying."
"Also thank you."
They stared at each other, the tension thick enough to slice. Taehyun refused to flinch, though the Alpha inside him was screaming for a way out.
Then Vasilliy's voice dropped, rough and sharp:
"Ты играешь с огнём, Таэхён."
You're playing with fire, Taehyun.
Taehyun smiled wide. "Sorry, that information's a little above your clearance level."
Then—he punched the nearby lamp, shattering the glass, and threw it at the wall.
The hallway went dark.
And Taehyun ran.
He dashed down a stairwell, alarms now shrieking, red lights flashing, cameras turning.
Guards shouted across the halls.
He burst through a kitchen, slid across the counter, kicked a frying pan at someone's head (it hit), and leapt through a pantry window.
Glass shattered.
Snow hit his face like ice slaps.
But he was out.
Barefoot, breathless, heart pounding with adrenaline, he sprinted across the cold Russian yard in silk pajamas and lion slippers.
Behind him, the mansion lit up in red sirens and panic.
And somewhere inside it all, Vasilliy stared out of the broken window…
Expression unreadable.
Voice quiet.
"Найди его."
Find him.
TO BE CONTINUED