DOTH Volume 2 Chapter 5.1

The chandelier was sparkling. Every time he blinked his blurred eyes open and shut, the light scattered chaotically. Like someone pulled out of water just before drowning, the man suddenly regained his sense. Harsh breaths tore from his chest, his lungs burning as if they were being ripped apart.

“Cough, cough, cough!”

Before he could grasp where he was, his instincts kicked in, making him aware of his situation.

The guy was sitting in a chair. The problem was that his ankles and thighs were bound, leaving him completely immobile. His arms were also tied behind his back. The ropes were so tight that it felt like blood couldn’t circulate through his body.

The warning not to drink anything offered by strangers at a gambling table flashed through his mind, far too late. Swallowing hard, he shut his eyes tightly, trying to regain his composure. They say even if you’re thrown into a tiger’s den, you’ll survive as long as you keep your wits.

He turned his head—the only part of his body he could move—and surveyed his surroundings. The room was extravagantly luxurious. A grand chandelier, marble floors, premium leather sofas, and a state-of-the-art television suggested this was undoubtedly a hotel suite. Why was he here? Contrary to his expectation of a shabby abandoned lot or construction site, the space was opulent to the point of indulgence.

Unable to move his body, he shifted his eyes restlessly. When he turned his gaze far to the right, the faint cityscape came into view at the edge of his vision. Raindrops streaked the glass, blurring the lights of what was unmistakably Seoul’s nighttime skyline.

His heart began to pound. The thought that something had turned wrong flashed in his mind.

He was in a hotel suite. If he could just get to the hallway, maybe he could survive. Clinging to this faint hope, the man wriggled his body, attempting to loosen the ropes. But his desperate effort was cut short by the sound of the door lock clicking open.

He froze, holding his breath as he stared at the entrance, eyes not blinking. The sound of shoes striking the marble floor echoed through the room.

“……!”

Had it been fifteen years ago, when Chairman Jung had sold off an alpha at an exceptionally high price.

The alpha had reportedly been sold to a gang that controlled the Seoul area at the time. It had nothing to do with him, so he quickly forgot about it. But a few years later, he heard that the alpha had caught the attention of the Yeonbeom faction leader.

Word was that the faction boss had been so enamored with the alpha that he even gave him an exceptional name.

Some said the Alpha, though young, had eyes that shone like those of a predator. They claimed anyone who met those eyes—even if they survived the encounter—would be driven mad by their ferocity. It was a childish rumor, likening his gaze to that of a tiger.

At the time, the guy had dismissed the rumor, thinking, of course the Yeonbeom faction was one who would obsess over tigers.

Years passed, and he recalled that name again.

The alpha had been rumored to have killed his master, severed all ties, and dismantled the gang, transforming it into something entirely new. It didn’t take long for the young alpha to become the head of the organization, Jiwoo, and to gain his infamous title, Director Yeon.

“Ugh, uhh.”

Lee Yootae couldn’t turn his head. It was as if he were paralyzed by the predatory gaze of a tiger, just as the old rumors had described.

Yeon Woobeom was standing before him, smiling faintly.

Yeon Woobeom. 

Woobeom.

At that moment, Lee Yootae realized one thing.

Even if one managed to survive in a tiger’s den, they would never walk away alive once they met the tiger itself.

His teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. It was a visceral reaction—a mix of primal fear, instinctive revulsion, and an ominous certainty about his fate. Would he be able to survive this? He desperately searched for a sliver of hope, but any trace of it vanished in an instant.

Director Yeon sank into the spacious sofa in the living room. He hadn’t moved quickly—his steps were leisurely, like someone left alone in a vast, empty space. Lee Yootae watched him without even daring to breathe. His eyes ached as though they were about to burst with bloodshot veins, yet he couldn’t even blink. It felt like any small noise would result in being torn apart on the spot.

Director Yeon crossed his legs like someone bored. The light from the chandelier danced briefly on his polished shoes before retreating. Sitting at the edge of the sofa, he rested his hand casually on the armrest. Lee Yootae’s gaze followed the movements of the young alpha obsessively, unable to look away.

A slight tap of his toe—Director Yeon adjusted his arm, tilting his head until his temple touched his knuckles. A sharp scar, neither particularly large nor long, marked the space a couple inches away from his hand. It wasn’t dramatic, but it carried a weighty presence, adding to his air of authority. His mouth parted at the same time.

“You know who I am, right?”

“D-Director Yeon.”

Lee Yootae stammered. His trembling teeth distorted his words, and his voice wavered uncontrollably. Director Yeon let out a faint chuckle. His smile might have appeared kind at a glance, but the scar at the corner of his eye, which remained completely still, was chilling. It was clear that only his mouth was smiling.

“This is our first meeting, isn’t it, Butler Lee Yootae?”

Lee Yootae gulped hard. The terror of the man’s presence was still palpable, but with the long distance between them, his mind started to work again. Why was that man here? Suddenly being rendered unconscious and brought to this unfamiliar place was surely related to his gambling debts. Lee knew well that his debts had absolutely nothing to do with Director Yeon.

How did he end up tangled with the man? As he puzzled over the situation, another set of footsteps echoed in his ears. Lee Yootae flinched, his body stiffening. A small part of him had been reassured that only two people occupied this space—himself and Director Yeon, who sat at a distance on the sofa.

The other man didn’t seem to have any intention of moving, giving him a slight chance to think. But that fragile moment of respite vanished with the sound of new footsteps. Whoever approached might physically harm him on Director Yeon’s behalf. Forcing his stiff neck to turn, Lee saw Kim Chulwoo pushing a trolley into the room. What would be in that trolley? A gun? Lee Yootae’s imagination spiraled into fear.

“Director.”

“What about Kim Jiwon?”

“He’s just arrived on the first floor.”

Kim Chulwoo replied, pulling out a bottle of whiskey and a single glass from the trolley. Seeing only ordinary items, Lee Yootae exhaled slightly in relief. He had expected drugs, syringes, or, in the worst case, a gun. But it was just liquor—thankfully.

After all, this wasn’t an abandoned construction site or a deserted building. It was a hotel in the heart of Seoul. Though his entire body was bound to a chair, it didn’t seem like his life was in immediate danger. Why had he been dragged here in front of Director Yeon? Lee Yootae pondered with his stiffened mind toward finding an answer.

Director Yeon noticed Lee Yootae’s previously erratic breathing had gradually steadied. His eyes swept over the faraway beta from head to toe. Lee Yootae. Thirty-eight years old. Beta. For a beta, his build was quite imposing. A solid, compact physique that gave off an impression of strength.

And he also hit Jung Heeyeon with that physique. Director Yeon couldn’t know how long the abuse had gone on, but there was no denying the fact that Jung Heeyeon had been subjected to sustained violence by this adult for an extended period. 

The dark bruise that had marred Jung Heeyeon’s collarbone lingered vividly in Director Yeon’s memory. He spoke slowly, directing his words not to Lee Yootae but to Kim Chulwoo.

“Untie him. Let’s not be rude.”

Without a word, Kim Chulwoo approached Lee Yootae. Pulling a military knife from his pocket, he cut through the ropes binding Lee Yootae’s body with brisk efficiency. Fearing that the blade might tear into his flesh, Lee Yootaeheld his breath in terror. Only when Kim Chulwoo severed the rope around his wrists and stepped back did he finally exhale.

“D-Director, what brings you here to me…?” 

Lee Yootae stammered as he slipped off the chair, dropping immediately to his knees on the marble floor. His legs had gone weak, and the movement was closer to a collapse. A dull thud echoed as his knees hit the ground, sending a jarring pain through his bones, but he had no capacity to focus on such trivial discomfort. Crawling forward in a pathetic, groveling position, he inched closer to Director Yeon.

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