Crave You Forever
Chapter 90: It was all a lie

Chapter 90: It was all a lie

As the jet touched down and taxied to a halt, Yeongsoo’s only thought was of getting home, of seeing Haeun. Whatever the mission’s outcome, he needed to regroup, to check on them, to make sure they were safe.

"Yeong," Sean began as they disembarked, "I’ll handle the debriefing. Go home. You’ve earned the rest." He clapped a reassuring hand on Yeongsoo’s shoulder, the unspoken support between them clear.

Yeongsoo gave a curt nod, barely registering the pain in his injured shoulder as he made his way to his car. The drive back was a blur, a rush of streetlights flashing past as he navigated the empty early morning roads, the adrenaline from the mission still pulsing through him.

But when he pulled into the driveway, an uneasy silence settled over him. The house was too quiet.

As he stepped inside, a chill ran down his spine. The air was still, unnaturally so. He called out, voice low but urgent. "Haeun? Suho?"

No answer.

He moved swiftly, checking every room, his unease morphing into full-fledged dread. The blankets on the bed were thrown back, but the sheets were cold—too cold. The faintest trace of Haeun’s scent lingered, comforting yet unsettlingly distant. It felt as if they’d been gone for hours, but there was no indication of where they’d gone or why.

Heart pounding, he moved to the living room, searching for any clue. He found Haeun’s phone on the coffee table, abandoned with the screen still lit up. Messages he hadn’t read yet.

Yeongsoo gritted his teeth as he scanned through them, his worst fears taking shape. They were filled with concerned messages from his parents who’d apparently been trying to contact Haeun.

The last message was chilling in its simplicity: "Are you okay?"

A cold fury took root in Yeongsoo’s chest, mingling with terror. Whatever had happened, Haeun had been on the run, maybe even in danger.

Desperate for answers, he dialed Sean’s number.

Sean picked up on the first ring. "Yeong?"

"Sean, they’re gone. Both of them. Haeun and Suho." His voice was clipped, forced into calmness.

There was a beat of silence on the other end, and then Sean’s voice came through, steady but grim. "How long do you think they’ve been gone?"

Yeongsoo looked around, trying to judge from the cold sheets and dim lighting. "At least a few hours. Haeun left his phone. There are messages from his parents who seems to know what’s going on, but there’s no clue as to where they went or why."

"Any leads?" Sean asked.

"Only a vague message, if he was okay. Someone must’ve been after them, and Haeun didn’t want to wait around for them to strike."

Sean cursed under his breath. "I’ll get our team on it. We’ll search for any unusual activity near your house, and I’ll see if anyone caught sight of Haeun and Suho leaving. We’ll trace his contacts too, starting with whoever sent that message."

"Thanks," Yeongsoo muttered, rubbing his temple as frustration and fear coursed through him.

"Yeong..." Sean’s voice was more cautious now. "Do you think this could be Bai Youran?"

Yeongsoo’s blood ran cold. The pieces clicked together with horrifying clarity. Bai Youran had targeted him through his work, but now, knowing Yeongsoo’s weaknesses, he’d gone for the people he cared most about.

"He’s the only one with enough to gain from this," Yeongsoo said through clenched teeth. "If he found out about Haeun, he wouldn’t hesitate."

"We’re going to find them, Yeong," Sean said with grim determination. "Whatever it takes. I’ll keep you posted every hour."

"Thanks, Sean," Yeongsoo replied, hanging up and pocketing his phone, his mind racing. Every instinct in him screamed to search every corner of the city until he found Haeun and Suho.

Taking a deep breath, he paced the empty living room, fists clenched. Haeun, the person he’d fought so hard to protect, and Suho, the boy Haeun wanted to protect so badly. He had failed them both.

Earlier On

In the early hours, while Yeongsoo was overseas, Haeun sat at their kitchen table, staring at the mysterious package that had arrived at the door. It bore no sender’s information, just his name scrawled in dark ink on the brown wrapping paper. At first, he’d thought it might be a harmless delivery, something Yeongsoo had arranged, perhaps a gift.

But as he unwrapped it, a sinking feeling gnawed at him. Haeun opened the package, his heart already pounded with unease, but he forced himself to look through it, piece by piece. Every page, every image, and every recording sent a chill down his spine, stripping away the safe, stable world he thought he shared with Yeongsoo.

The photographs, taken from what looked like surveillance footage, captured moments of chilling clarity. Faces frozen in terror, eyes wide, hands raised in desperation—people he didn’t know, people who were likely just names to the man he loved. They were captured in those final, desperate seconds before... before Yeongsoo’s hand descended, ending their lives with the same cold precision he used in everything else.

There were reports documenting operations in countries he’d never even heard of, images of tactical blueprints and maps with bold red marks pinpointing locations where the kills had taken place. The ink on the documents bled into his mind, branding the horrific numbers into his memory. Dozens. Hundreds. It was a staggering number of lives Yeongsoo had snuffed out with such ruthless efficiency.

Haeun felt nauseous as he reached for the tape recorder. His fingers trembled, and he nearly dropped it, but something compelled him to press play. His heart beat louder than ever as the recordings played, each one more brutal than the last.

"All targets neutralized," Yeongsoo’s voice echoed through the speakers, dispassionate and cold, a voice completely foreign to Haeun. "Proceeding to the next."

Another click, another voice recording.

"No exceptions," Yeongsoo’s voice said sharply, leaving no room for mercy. "End it."

Each tape played out like a nightmare, with Yeongsoo delivering orders that seemed to remove any ounce of humanity from him. His voice was devoid of emotion, reduced to something calculating and clinical, like he wasn’t even human. This wasn’t the man who had held him, who’d wiped away his tears and promised to protect him. This was someone who sounded like they’d never loved at all.

A grainy video followed, where Haeun could see Yeongsoo’s face—expression hard, eyes narrow, lips pressed into a cruel line as he methodically took down targets, not a hint of regret in his movements. It wasn’t just enemies he was killing; there were civilians caught in the crossfire, left on the ground, lifeless and forgotten. They were just collateral damage, and from the look on his face, it meant nothing to him.

Haeun clutched his mouth, bile rising as he forced himself to keep watching. His mind screamed at him to stop, to close the laptop and erase the images from his mind. But he couldn’t look away, as if by seeing all this, he might find some explanation. Some reason for why the man he loved had led a double life this horrifying.

Finally, one last recording played. It was a conversation between Yeongsoo and a faceless contact, each word sharper than a blade, the tone deadlier than he’d ever heard.

"Do you feel anything when you do it?" the contact asked, almost like a joke.

There was a pause. Then, Yeongsoo’s voice came, chilling in its simplicity. "No. It’s just work."

Haeun’s heart shattered. Tears blurred his vision as he struggled to breathe, the weight of everything collapsing around him. This was his Yeongsoo—the man he’d trusted, loved, devoted himself to. And yet, he had no idea who this person was, this stranger who could kill without a second thought, who could walk away from bloodshed without a backward glance.

The home he and Yeongsoo had built, filled with warmth and laughter, suddenly felt like a lie. The walls seemed to close in on him, as if suffocating him under the weight of this brutal reality. He was dizzy, his breaths shallow as he staggered back, knocking over the chair and clutching his stomach.

A sob ripped from his throat as he stumbled to the front door, desperate for air, for distance, for anything that wasn’t filled with reminders of Yeongsoo’s betrayal. He couldn’t stay here. He needed space, somewhere he could think, somewhere far away from the memories that now felt poisoned.

Grabbing his keys and a bag, he rushed to his parents’ house. He barely remembered the drive, his mind reeling, vision blurred by tears he couldn’t seem to stop. When he arrived, he barely managed to mumble a request to his father to take care of Suho, brushing off questions with a distant, haunted look.

"Are you sure you’re okay?" Minho asked, worry in his eyes as he looked at his son’s pale, tear-streaked face.

Haeun forced a nod. "I... just need some air, this kid is um..a friend kid we’re watching please help me look after him for a whilen," he choked out, voice strained and barely audible.

Without another word, he fled, leaving Suho behind. The weight of everything bore down on him, suffocating him, every step feeling heavier, every thought replaying those horrific images and recordings.

Alone, in the silent, cold streets, he finally broke down completely, sobs tearing through him as he doubled over, feeling his chest shatter under the betrayal and horror.