_______________________________
07:00 AM – A pale sun struggles to pierce through the fog.
Dmitry's blood had barely dried on the concrete docks before the port's rhythm resumed, though it was a different kind of movement. There was no clamor of workers or shouting of sailors; instead, a funereal silence prevailed, broken only by the heavy thud of military boots.
Sergei Kuznetsov, the head of the family known as the "Cold Tsar," stood in the center of the pier. A man in his fifties, his gray hair was slicked back with precision, his eyes carrying the ruthlessness of years spent in dirty wars. Beside him stood Alexei, Jinho's eldest brother, with sharp features and a military suit that betrayed his thirst for power.
On the other side stood the twins; Jinho and Jin, looking like two pieces of crystal amidst the mud. Jinho, who had slept only two hours, looked provocatively elegant. Today, he wore a deep navy velvet blazer, slim trousers highlighting his grace, and a silk scarf wrapped delicately around his neck. He held a golden chocolate box in his hand, as if the events of the previous night were nothing more than a passing dream.
"Alexei, ensure the ten recovered crates are technically inspected," Sergei said in a gravelly voice, looking toward the ship. "I want no surprises with General Volkov."
"The inspection is complete, father," Alexei replied, his tone laced with condescension toward Jinho. "Fortunately, Jinho recovered them before they vanished entirely, though his 'cleanup' method was exaggerated as usual. The whole port is talking about the severed head."
Jinho offered a faint smile, placing a piece of chocolate in his mouth. "Exaggeration is what stops others from thinking about stealing, Alexei. Physics taught me that high pressure prevents leaks... and I am merely a tool to increase that pressure."
Suddenly, the wind changed its tune.
Nearby engines ceased their hum. The workers carrying crates went silent. Even the seagulls circling the ship fled the area, as if sensing the arrival of an apex predator.
From the port entrance, a procession appeared unlike any seen before. These were not the "Aurus" cars favored by the Kuznetsovs, but modified black Hummer H1s, massive as tanks prowling the road. They advanced with a terrifying slowness, sending vibrations through the ground beneath everyone's feet.
"Who are they?" Alexei muttered, his hand moving to his weapon. "We weren't expecting anyone."
Sergei narrowed his eyes, signs of anxiety appearing on his face for the first time. "That emblem... the blue-eyed eagle. It's impossible... what brings a 'Sokolov' to our lands?"
The massive vehicles stopped in a semi-circular formation, surrounding the Kuznetsov family and their guards. Large men stepped out, wearing bulletproof vests and black helmets, carrying heavy automatic weapons. They lined up in two rows, standing as silent as statues.
Then, the door of the central vehicle opened.
A shadow emerged, blotting out the pale sun. It was Ivan Sokolov.
When he stood at his full height (210 cm), it seemed as though the entire port had shrunk. He wore a long, heavy black leather coat, a black open-collar shirt revealing his solid chest muscles, and a heavy silver chain hanging around his neck. His features were eerily calm and innocent, his pale blonde hair fluttering in the cold wind.
But what froze everyone in place were his eyes. Those blue eyes scanned the area with inhuman coldness until they settled on only one person.
Ivan completely ignored Sergei; he ignored the armed Alexei; and he walked with heavy, measured steps toward Jinho.
The difference in size was terrifying. Jinho (180 cm) looked small before this giant, but Jinho did not retreat an inch. Instead, he tilted his head back, placed another chocolate in his mouth, and stared at Ivan with a demonic coldness, as if studying a strange physical phenomenon.
Ivan stopped a single step away from Jinho. His shadow completely covered Jinho, making the latter look as though he were residing in a cell of flesh and bone.
A suffocating silence took hold. Sergei Kuznetsov watched in stunned disbelief, unable to speak before the aura of the "Beast" who rules Russia's hidden half.
"I saw your performance yesterday," Ivan finally spoke. His voice was deep, with a metallic resonance that shook chests. "The rhythm of the axe was perfectly consistent with my heartbeat."
Jinho raised a single eyebrow mockingly, never breaking eye contact. "I didn't know the port had become a theater for wanderers, Mr. Sokolov. Did you enjoy the show? Tickets are very expensive, and usually paid for in blood."
Ivan let out a soft, dry laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "Beauty and brutality... a rare combination. I didn't think the Kuznetsovs possessed a 'masterpiece' of such craftsmanship."
Ivan reached out his massive hand, very slowly, as if he intended to touch Jinho's pale cheek. The Kuznetsov guards shifted, but Ivan didn't even look at them; his focus remained entirely on Jinho.
Before Ivan's fingers could make contact, one of Ivan's personal guards—a massive man named "Boris"—tried to step forward to flank Jinho as a threat.
In the blink of an eye, with speed the human eye could not track, Jinho spun.
CRACK!
A lightning-fast kick, like the lash of a whip, landed with pinpoint precision on Boris's Adam's apple. The massive guard collapsed instantly, clutching his throat and gasping for air, while Jinho returned to his original stance before Ivan as if he hadn't moved.
"Tell your dogs not to come near me, giant," Jinho said in a sharp, cold tone. "I hate friction with unpolished objects. It ruins my morning mood."
Ivan did not get angry. Instead, his pupils dilated with a glint of "hidden admiration." He looked at his guard on the ground, then back at Jinho, a strange smile forming on his lips.
"A perfect kick... the angle and power suggest a mathematical mind behind that beautiful face," Ivan whispered, leaning in closer until his warm breath brushed Jinho's cold skin. "You pique my curiosity, Jinho Kuznetsov. So much so that I might have to break my rules and claim you before your time."
The massive guard "Boris" continued to writhe on the frozen ground, making muffled choking sounds, but Ivan Sokolov didn't even blink. On the contrary, his eyes widened further, and a low, deep chuckle vibrated from his broad chest. Ivan looked at Jinho not as a mafia boss looks at an enemy, but as an obsessed collector who has just found a "cursed diamond" he had long sought.
"Claim me?" Jinho repeated the word slowly, as if tasting something foul. He lifted his chin slightly to meet Ivan's piercing gaze from above. Despite the terrifying height difference—180 cm against 210 cm—Jinho showed no sign of shrinking. Instead, he smiled that angelic-demonic smile that promised nothing but ruin.
"Mr. Sokolov," Jinho began in a cold, academic tone, adjusting his silk scarf with excessive elegance. "Have you ever heard of Galileo's 'Square-Cube Law'? In biophysics, as an object grows in size, its volume and mass increase at a much faster rate than its surface area. To put it simply for your comprehension: massive creatures are... structurally fragile. They consume enormous energy just to stay standing, and their joints are prone to collapse under their own weight if struck at the correct center of gravity."
Jinho tilted his head slightly, his smile vanishing into a deadly frost. "You are huge, Ivan. Stupidly huge. In my mathematical world, you are nothing but a large target, easy to calculate an angle of descent for. So, a free piece of advice: don't stand so close to me. Your muscle mass is blocking my pale sunlight, and it's spoiling my mood."
A deathly silence fell over the port. Even Alexei, who hated Jinho, held his breath. No one—literally no one in all of Russia—dared to speak to Ivan Sokolov, the "Hidden Beast of the Kremlin," in such a manner, let alone mock his size and call him fragile.
But Ivan didn't explode. He slowly leaned his upper torso toward Jinho until his hot breath, carrying the scent of expensive tobacco, leather, and gunpowder, nearly touched Jinho's cold skin.
"The Square-Cube Law?" Ivan whispered in his resonant voice, his eyes burning with a dark, terrifying desire. "I don't follow the laws of physics, Jinho... I break them. And if my size means I will collapse, I promise you I will collapse on top of you, to crush this beautiful arrogance until it mingles with my blood."
At that moment, Sergei Kuznetsov could no longer endure being marginalized on his own turf. He took two steps forward, trying to reclaim his status as the "Cold Tsar."
"Ivan Sokolov!" Sergei's gravelly voice echoed across the pier. "What are you looking for at the Kuznetsov dock? We haven't crossed into your territory, and our deals are frozen by council decree. This visit is an unjustified declaration of war."
Ivan didn't turn. He didn't even move his pupils toward Sergei. He remained fixed on Jinho's face, taking in the details of his sharp, feminine features; the thick black lashes, the snow-pale skin, and the lips that carried the taste of chocolate and poisonous words. Ivan's total disregard for Sergei was a supreme insult—a deliberate act to belittle the head of the family in front of his men.
"I'm talking to you, Sokolov!" Alexei shouted in rage, lunging forward with his hand gripping the handle of his Makarov pistol.
But before Alexei could draw his weapon, Jin appeared like a ghost from behind Jinho. With grace and speed, Jin placed a black leather-gloved hand on Alexei's arm, stopping the draw.
"Your heart rate has reached 120 beats per minute, Alexei," Jin said in his flat, emotionless voice, looking at the tablet in his other hand. "I advise against recklessness. There are four snipers placing invisible laser dots on your skull right now. If you pull that gun, your brains will be scattered on my father's coat."
Alexei froze in place, looking frantically toward the giant cranes surrounding the port, realizing that Ivan's men had occupied tactical positions before they even arrived. Sergei clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, feeling utterly powerless against this seamless invasion.
Finally, Ivan pulled his gaze away from Jinho very slowly, as if tearing a piece of his soul to do so. He turned halfway toward Sergei, looking at him with pure contempt.
"Sergei..." Ivan spoke his name as if naming an insect. "I was looking for a reason not to burn this port down last night, after receiving reports of a 'leak' in your shipments that might threaten the capital's stability. I came to discipline you."
Ivan's gaze snapped back to Jinho, his obsessive smile widening. "But I found that someone has already done the 'disciplining' on my behalf... and in a brilliantly artistic way." Ivan gestured with his head toward the large bloodstain still decorating the pier where Dmitry had been killed.
Jinho pulled out the golden box coldly, completely ignoring Ivan's veiled threats, and picked out a piece of gold-dusted chocolate. "If you enjoyed the show, you can send a donation check to my account. I charge high fees for my live performances, and I don't accept traveler's checks."
Ivan laughed again, louder this time. He raised his massive hand, and despite Jinho's readiness to deflect any attack, Ivan didn't strike. Instead, Ivan ran a rough finger with eerie gentleness over the silk collar of Jinho's shirt, dangerously close to the skin of his neck. A light touch, but it carried the psychological weight of a mountain. It was a clear message: I can break you at any moment, but I choose not to.
"We will meet soon, Jinho," Ivan whispered in a voice only heard by Jinho and his twin, Jin. "And I will make sure the next show... is in my own theater."
Ivan took a step back. He signaled with two fingers to his men, who immediately returned to their formations around the black Hummers. The guards picked up their unconscious colleague, Boris, and tossed him into the back like a sack of potatoes.
Ivan got into his car, but before closing the door, his pale blue eyes met Jinho's blue eyes in one last look. A look that carried a promise of blood, dominance, and hell.
The Sokolov convoy left the port with the same terrifying silence with which it had arrived, leaving the Kuznetsov family in a state of internal turmoil.
Sergei looked at Jinho with blind rage. "What did you do to bring this madman's attention to us?" the father roared.
Jinho didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked at his twin brother, Jin, who was watching him with a rare expression of concern. Jinho smiled—a smile that wasn't mocking this time, but the smile of someone who had just realized he'd found a "game" worth dying for.
To be continued...