Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
Welcome to Lustbound, where hunger
wears silk and desire has teeth.
The city didn’t sleep, it burned in secret.
Behind the doors of a forbidden club, vampires danced with the living, disguising the hunt as seduction. There, every bite was a pact, and every laugh, a spell.
— Please… Just a little bite, I swear… —he pleaded, his voice trembling like a secret breaking.— If you don’t let me taste you… I think I might die.
Skin trembled, music exploded, and the game began.
Because at that party, no one left untouched: you either ended up marked… or starving.
Everyone can enter.
But leaving… No one ever has.
Chapter 2: Chapter 1: Beneath the Lights of Lustbound
Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Beneath the Lights of Lustbound
The first ray of sunlight slipped timidly through the grayish linen curtains, tracing golden lines across Seon Woo’s bedroom. Everything in that space breathed order and precision: clothes carefully folded over the chair, the tie perfectly aligned with the shirt, polished shoes reflecting the morning light. Seon Woo sat up with the routine of someone who had memorized every second of his life; his movements were meticulous, almost mechanical, yet always carried a natural grace forged by years of training and discipline. Every gesture was calculated, every breath measured, but within him hid a vigilant gaze, assessing, anticipating, always prepared for any eventuality.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee blended with a light scent of wood and soap. Seon Woo inhaled it slowly while mentally reviewing the day’s tasks: pending reports, planning meetings, night patrols he had supervised the previous week, and above all, the conversation awaiting him with his superior regarding a new case. It was a file unlike the usual ones, with an edge that tightened his throat even before crossing the station doors. Blood trafficking. Disappearances. Vague reports of bodies apparently drained in an unusual manner. And a club, one of those places impossible to locate on a map, whose rumors surfaced only through slippery testimonies and trembling glances at its name: Lustbound.
Seon Woo slipped on his civilian jacket, adjusted his belt, and left his apartment in silence, closing the door with a sharp click. The city breathed around him, modern and luminous, yet still clinging to the night’s humidity. Skyscrapers rose like glass colossi, reflecting the dawn and engraving into Seon Woo the reminder that each day carried an opportunity to fulfill his duty. His face showed no emotion, but his mind analyzed every shadow, every movement, every possible deviation from the city’s routine that might indicate something out of place.
When he arrived at the precinct, the familiar hum of phones and the murmurs of agents welcomed him like a daily ritual. His superior waited beside a filing cabinet.
— Seon Woo, the target is dangerous. This is not just any case. We need someone who stays calm, someone who does not collapse under pressure. —His voice was grave, firm, controlled. —This is not a common case.
— I understand. —Seon Woo replied calmly, taking the sealed envelope.— What do we have exactly?
— Strange disappearances. Drained bodies. Everything points to a high-profile private club. No one knows its exact location, only that it operates somewhere in Gangnam. —He slid the envelope toward him.— You are the only one who can infiltrate without raising suspicion. Your profile is perfect. Precision, discipline, anonymity. You are ready for this.
Seon Woo nodded, not taking his eyes off the documents. Nothing could interfere with the mission. There was no room for emotion or doubt. Every detail mattered. Every step had to be calculated.
The conversation ended, and Seon Woo returned to his car in silence, his mind already shifting to the next phase: the transformation.
The hair salon was located in a small commercial area, discreet and specialized. Black hair would not be easy to conceal; he needed a perfect ash blond. The stylist greeted him with a mix of curiosity and professionalism.
— A full color change? —the stylist asked, showing different palettes.
— Yes. I would like to move away from something so dark… Something that softens my features. —Seon Woo replied, choosing his words carefully.
— Mmm.... It will require progressive bleaching. You have strong hair, very dark. But we can achieve it. With patience.
— It has to look natural. —Seon Woo said. —I don’t want to draw attention.
Hours later, back in his apartment, Seon Woo became Sunoo. His clothes changed into something comfortable and discreet; every detail mattered. Soft, neutral fabrics. Ash-blond hair styled to fall lightly over his forehead, partially hiding his eyes. Gentler gestures concealing the tension of a trained body. Sunoo had to appear inexperienced, kind, in need of work. But beneath the façade hid a strategic mind and a body ready to react.
The mask of timidity was convincing. In front of the mirror, Seon Woo examined every detail: trembling hands, fingers, slightly irregular breathing, movements less confident than they truly were. Cold precision had to remain hidden beneath Sunoo, the anxious and harmless young man he would present to the world. He mentally reviewed his excuse: a sick mother, family responsibilities, the need for income. None of it was real.
But it was believable.
And that was more than enough.
The journey to Lustbound felt like an entirely different world. Public transportation, crowded train cars, metallic rattling, scattered conversations. He let himself be carried by the crowd, invisible among office workers and students, breathing in the scent of grease and metal that permeated the subway.
Sunoo observed every face, every shadow, every gesture. His heart beat with a mix of adrenaline and nerves as he recalled the station’s instructions: Proceed with the interview. Evaluate behavior and attitude. Every sound, every smell, perfume, sweat, street food, distant smoke, was etched into his memory, part of the environment he had to master without revealing his true identity.
He deliberately wandered the streets surrounding the club, blending in, appearing lost, creating a pattern that justified his presence in the area. Eventually, he reached the entrance: a dark iron gate, smooth stone walls. No signage, only discreet security. A guard watched him approach.
— What are you looking for? —the man asked firmly, scrutinizing him for any sign of threat.
— I’m… looking for work. Customer service… anything would be fine.—Sunoo replied, controlling his nervousness.
— Work here? —The guard leaned against the wall, observed him briefly, then raised the intercom. After a moment, he nodded. — Go in. Stay calm and follow instructions.
Inside, the club pulsed to its own rhythm. Warm lighting in shades of red and plum. A dense scent, sweet and metallic. Controlled movements from both patrons and staff. Sunoo was guided to a small internal office, austere but orderly.
— They’ll ask you a few questions. Don’t lie, but don’t overshare. —the guard said. — Just observe and answer.
The interview was brief, focused more on needs and motivation than on skills. Sunoo’s story, his sick mother and need for money, was enough.
— We have an opening as a security guard, with minor customer service duties. —the manager said. — Are you willing to work late?
— Yes. I’ll do whatever is necessary. —Sunoo replied, dipping his head slightly. — I just want to work.
— Good. You start tonight. Learn the layout. Follow instructions. Observe and memorize.
Sunoo stepped out with a small notebook in hand, breathing steadily. Every step inside the club required control. Natural movement. Regulated breathing. No visible tension. He studied coworkers, patterns, subtle hierarchies. Every interaction was vital information.
As the night progressed, Sunoo mentally logged every detail: secondary doors, emergency exits, storage areas, patrol routes, client behavior. His police training allowed him to absorb it all without anyone noticing the precision behind his novice façade.
The guard from earlier glanced at him.
— You’re doing well. —he said with a wink. —But remember, nothing here is as simple as it seems. Some clients see more than they show.
Sunoo nodded and continued his round.
The first night passed in silent surveillance and meticulous observation. His cover held. Sunoo’s identity, and Seon Woo’s training, remained intact.
The club breathed around him, and he absorbed everything. Each movement brought him closer to a game far larger than he had imagined.
The second night began with the comfort of routine and the thrill of risk. Sunoo adjusted his uniform, the weight of the tie and fabric against his skin a constant reminder of the discipline holding him together. Every step inside the establishment was calculated. Not too fast. Not too slow. Each movement projected the image of an eager yet trustworthy novice.
As he entered, the club’s dense, sweet aromas mixed with incense smoke and the subtle sweat of the patrons. Low lights sculpted faces, deepening shadows and sharpening curious gazes. Sunoo immediately noticed patterns. Regulars moved with measured gestures. Newcomers were restless. His mind catalogued everything: the tilt of shoulders, fingers tightening around glasses, the silences between laughter.
And then he saw him.
He was leaning against the bar, wrapped in an air of casual ease, yet every movement of his hand, every shift of his neck revealed subtle control over the room. He was not an ordinary client. Something about him made everyone else fade into shadows. From his post near the entrance, Sunoo noticed how those eyes scanned the room selectively, deliberately, as if choosing exactly what deserved attention.
A guard signaled for him to continue his routine. Sunoo nodded, though his focus wavered. From time to time, that penetrating gaze met his. Brief. Calculated. Measuring something Sunoo could not yet define.
Then the club’s owner appeared. Mr. Lee. Tall. Impeccable in a dark suit. Silver hair slicked neatly back. Too young to run a place like this. Too experienced not to command it effortlessly. His eyes pierced the room, alert to everything. Sunoo felt a chill. Not fear, but the sharp awareness of being scrutinized.
Observe, he reminded himself. Learn the rhythms. The gestures. The hidden intentions.
The night became a delicate balancing act: following orders, maintaining Sunoo’s identity, and absorbing every detail about the club and its key figures.
At one point, the man at the bar lifted his glass for another sip. Sunoo moved closer under the pretense of checking an emergency exit behind him. The proximity revealed something unexpected. A subtle scent. Wood and soft mint. Nearly imperceptible, yet lingering. Sunoo filed it away, every molecule part of a mental map he might need later.
— First time working here? —the man asked without looking at him, his voice playing with each syllable.
Sunoo swallowed and adjusted his posture.
— Yes. I’m learning. Trying not to make mistakes.
— Mmm. —The man nodded, evaluating his tone and gestures. His catlike eyes finally met Sunoo’s. — You take this seriously. Many here pretend. But you don’t.
Sunoo barely breathed. One part of him remained cold and controlled. Another absorbed every vibration of that voice, every subtle tilt of the head, every calculated blink. It was a silent test, and he could not fail.
As the man walked away, the guard from the first night murmured:
— Careful. That one isn’t what he seems.
Sunoo logged it mentally. Selective observation. Movement patterns. Scent. Tone. No naive curiosity. Just training. Precision.
At the end of his round, he headed toward the small break office. Mr. Lee appeared briefly to review lists and cameras. Their gazes crossed for an instant. The sensation was immediate. A silent weight of judgment. An expectation without words. Sunoo held his mask flawlessly while his mind evaluated: patrol knowledge, observation of clients, disciplined routine. Everything was in place.
But the real test was only beginning.
That night, walking back toward the entrance, Sunoo realized he was not the only one watching. Every gesture, every glance, mattered. And in that game of shadows and silence, he had to remain invisible while seeing everything.
The city slept outside. Inside the club, every movement was part of a larger board. Sunoo inhaled, adjusted his tie, and continued his round. The first night had been learning. The second, a first encounter with the invisible guardians of that place.
And while they watched him, Sunoo began to see them too. Every pattern. Every secret hidden behind a calculated smile or feigned indifference.
The hunt had begun. Silent. Precise. Inevitable.