part 16

The marble floor was slick with blood. Boom’s body went limp in Aou’s arms, his shirt soaked crimson.

“No… no, no, Boom, stay with me,” Aou begged, pressing his hand hard against the wound. His voice cracked, raw with fear.

Jo stood frozen, gun shaking in his grip, his face pale. “I… I didn’t— it wasn’t me…” His words trembled, torn between denial and guilt.

The police closed in, rifles aimed.“Drop your weapons! Hands where we can see them!”

But Aou didn’t hear. His world had narrowed to Boom’s fading breaths, the weak flutter of his pulse under bloodied fingers.

“Ambulance!” Aou roared, his voice thunderous, desperate. “He’s still alive!”

The Escape

Gunfire erupted again as one officer mistook Aou’s movement for aggression. Bullets sprayed the penthouse, glass and plaster exploding around them.

Aou gritted his teeth, scooping Boom into his arms, shielding his body with his own. “You’re not dying here,” he swore through clenched teeth.

Jo, torn in half, made his choice: he shot out the lights, plunging the penthouse into shadow. Shouts erupted as chaos swallowed the room.

“Go!” Jo barked, covering them with gunfire. “Get him out of here!”

Aou hesitated, eyes burning with hatred—and reluctant gratitude. But Boom groaned weakly against his chest, forcing the decision. With one last glare at Jo, Aou bolted through the side exit, Boom in his arms, sirens screaming behind them.

The Hospital

Hours later, fluorescent lights buzzed coldly above. Boom lay pale and motionless in the ICU, machines keeping rhythm for the heart that had nearly stopped. Bandages wrapped his chest. Tubes snaked from his body.

Through the glass, Aou stood like a shadow, blood still on his shirt, eyes hollow.

Jo arrived minutes later, bruised and ragged, slipping past the guards with sheer stubborn will. He froze when he saw Aou, rage and grief colliding in his chest.

“You did this,” Jo whispered, voice shaking.Aou’s fists clenched. His voice was low, lethal. “If he dies… so do you.”

But both men fell silent when a weak beep came from the monitor inside.

Boom stirred, his fingers twitching against the sheets. His eyes fluttered half open, glassy with pain.

And his first word—hoarse, broken—wasn’t either of their names.

It was: “Why…?”

The question cut deeper than any bullet.

The marble floor was slick with blood. Boom’s body went limp in Aou’s arms, his shirt soaked crimson.

“No… no, no, Boom, stay with me,” Aou begged, pressing his hand hard against the wound. His voice cracked, raw with fear.

Jo stood frozen, gun shaking in his grip, his face pale. “I… I didn’t— it wasn’t me…” His words trembled, torn between denial and guilt.

The police closed in, rifles aimed.“Drop your weapons! Hands where we can see them!”

But Aou didn’t hear. His world had narrowed to Boom’s fading breaths, the weak flutter of his pulse under bloodied fingers.

“Ambulance!” Aou roared, his voice thunderous, desperate. “He’s still alive!”

The Escape

Gunfire erupted again as one officer mistook Aou’s movement for aggression. Bullets sprayed the penthouse, glass and plaster exploding around them.

Aou gritted his teeth, scooping Boom into his arms, shielding his body with his own. “You’re not dying here,” he swore through clenched teeth.

Jo, torn in half, made his choice: he shot out the lights, plunging the penthouse into shadow. Shouts erupted as chaos swallowed the room.

“Go!” Jo barked, covering them with gunfire. “Get him out of here!”

Aou hesitated, eyes burning with hatred—and reluctant gratitude. But Boom groaned weakly against his chest, forcing the decision. With one last glare at Jo, Aou bolted through the side exit, Boom in his arms, sirens screaming behind them.

The Hospital

Hours later, fluorescent lights buzzed coldly above. Boom lay pale and motionless in the ICU, machines keeping rhythm for the heart that had nearly stopped. Bandages wrapped his chest. Tubes snaked from his body.

Through the glass, Aou stood like a shadow, blood still on his shirt, eyes hollow.

Jo arrived minutes later, bruised and ragged, slipping past the guards with sheer stubborn will. He froze when he saw Aou, rage and grief colliding in his chest.

“You did this,” Jo whispered, voice shaking.Aou’s fists clenched. His voice was low, lethal. “If he dies… so do you.”

But both men fell silent when a weak beep came from the monitor inside.

Boom stirred, his fingers twitching against the sheets. His eyes fluttered half open, glassy with pain.

And his first word—hoarse, broken—wasn’t either of their names.

It was: “Why…?”

The question cut deeper than any bullet.

Boom’s whisper of “Why…?” lingered like smoke in the hospital room.

Aou pressed his forehead to the glass, trembling, his chest aching with a fear he’d never known. Jo stood frozen a step behind him, guilt and longing carved deep into his face. Neither spoke, because there was no answer to Boom’s question.

Weeks Later

Boom’s recovery was slow, agonizing. Every movement was fire, every breath a reminder of the bullet that nearly stole him away. He let doctors fuss over him, let nurses help him walk again.

But he never once looked at Aou or Jo the same way.

Some days, he turned his face from them in silence. Other days, he stared with a bitterness sharper than knives.

“You both claim you love me,” he rasped one night when Aou sat at his bedside. “But all you did was break me.”

Aou reached for his hand, but Boom pulled away.

When Jo tried to visit, Boom dismissed him with one glance, his eyes colder than Jo had ever seen.

The Transformation

By the time Boom left the hospital, the fragility was gone.

He returned to his empire like a king risen from ashes. The softness in his eyes had burned away, replaced by steel. His voice, once warm, carried no trace of hesitation now. Every command was sharp, absolute.

At a board meeting, one of his executives stammered about doubts. Boom’s stare alone silenced him.

“Anyone who questions me,” he said coolly, “can leave now. Or be removed.”

The room went dead quiet.

Outside those walls, Aou and Jo watched him rise again. But this time, he wasn’t the Boom they had fought over. He was something else—something untouchable.

Boom wore his scars like armor. His heart no longer begged for love—it demanded loyalty.

And when Aou finally cornered him in his office, desperate to break through, Boom only smirked, his eyes glinting with danger.

“You wanted me alive,” he said softly. “But this isn’t the Boom you saved. This is the one you created.”

🔥 Now the tension deepens:

Boom is alive, but colder, more powerful, harder to reach.

Aou and Jo still love him, but now they’re the ones who must chase him — and he’s not sure he’ll ever let them close again.