Chapter Text
The sun was already low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the city, but inside the cramped and dimly lit holding cell, Aguero had no sense of time. His knuckles were still sore from the impact, a dull ache that throbbed in his fingers. The bastard had it coming, he told himself, playing the scene over in his mind like a reel on repeat. That smug look the reporter had given him, the way he twisted facts to make Khun Automotive seem like the villain—it was enough to send Aguero over the edge. So, he'd handled it the only way he knew how. He tackled the guy to the ground, fists flying before security dragged him off.
"Fucking vultures," Aguero muttered, leaning back against the cold concrete wall. His eyes narrowed in the dimness. He’d lost track of how long he'd been sitting in that cell, but it didn’t matter. This wasn’t the first time he’d found himself here, and he doubted it would be the last.
The sound of approaching footsteps made him glance up, his expression darkening as the familiar figure of his older brother, Asensio, appeared in front of the cell. Asensio’s expression was one of pure exasperation, his hands buried deep in his pockets, looking like he had better things to do than bail out his idiot brother again.
"Third time this year, A.A.," Asensio sighed, shaking his head. His tone was sharp, though not without a trace of resignation. "Do you ever fucking learn?"
Aguero shrugged, standing up from the bench, his posture lazy but eyes sharp with irritation. "The asshole was asking for it," he muttered. "Spreading shit about the company like that."
Asensio didn’t look impressed. He waved a hand to the guard, who unlocked the cell door with a quick click, and Aguero stepped out, cracking his neck. Freedom tasted stale after hours spent inside that hole, but it was still better than sitting there waiting for the media circus outside to blow over.
"You know the drill. I can’t keep doing this," Asensio continued, leading his brother toward the exit. "You think I have nothing better to do than pull you out of jail? You're lucky I’m even here. But seriously, Aguero, get your shit together. You’re running Khun Automotive now. The family business isn’t going to clean up after you forever."
Aguero let out a snort, his icy blue eyes glancing sidelong at his brother. "The family business," he repeated mockingly. "Yeah, I know what that means. Don’t get used to what? Bailing me out of jail or making sure the mafia deals run smoothly?"
Asensio’s eyes flashed with warning, his voice dropping lower as they stepped out of the station. "Both. This isn’t a joke, A.A. You’ve got responsibilities. It’s time you start acting like it." He pulled a cigarette from his coat pocket and lit it, the sharp scent of smoke filling the air between them. "You may not like this shit, but you’re the one in charge now. Own it."
Aguero’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. He knew better than to argue with Asensio when he got like this. His brother was right, after all. Aguero had been handed control of Khun Automotive after their father had stepped down, and while Aguero had a natural knack for business, there were parts of the job that still grated on him. The media, the scrutiny, the pressure to maintain the Khun empire’s public image while handling the shadowy dealings beneath the surface—it was all part of the package. And it was all a pain in the ass.
Asensio flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under his boot. "Just… don’t let this shit get out of hand again, A.A. Focus on what matters. We’ve got a meeting with the board tomorrow, and I expect you to actually show up for it."
"I’ll be there," Aguero muttered, his voice rough. "Now, if we’re done here, I’ve got work to do."
Asensio gave him one last look, a mix of frustration and brotherly concern, before nodding and turning to walk away. Aguero didn’t bother with goodbyes. He slipped into the waiting car, his fingers tapping impatiently on the steering wheel as the driver navigated through the city streets.
The next day, Aguero sat at the head of the long, polished table in the Khun Automotive boardroom, his expression as cold as the steel decor that lined the room. Around him, executives, lawyers, and engineers spoke in low tones, discussing the latest projects, the newest deals, and the looming threat of competitors trying to take a bite out of their market share.
None of it concerned Aguero at the moment. He was there because he had to be, not because he cared about these trivial details. His real work was done in the shadows, in meetings that never made it to the public eye. The mafia dealings that kept Khun Automotive at the top of the food chain were where Aguero truly thrived.
He looked up as Shibisu, his Chief Technology Officer, and one of his oldest friends, entered the room with a smirk plastered on his face. "A.A., you look like you’re about to kill someone," Shibisu quipped, sliding into the seat beside him. "Rough morning?"
Aguero shot him a glare. "Shut the fuck up, Shibisu. I don’t need your commentary."
"Touchy," Shibisu replied, still grinning. "What happened this time? You punch a reporter again?"
Aguero didn’t bother answering. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes sweeping over the room as the executives continued their discussions. His mind was elsewhere, already moving through the gears of the mafia business that he and his siblings were tied to. They had their hands in everything—smuggling, underground trade, money laundering. And while Khun Automotive was their public face, it was the family’s darker dealings that truly fueled their power.
"Focus," Aguero growled, cutting through the chatter in the room. The executives immediately silenced, turning their attention to him. "I don’t care about the fucking details of this week’s production numbers. What I care about is making sure no one tries to muscle in on our territory. Understood?"
There were nods all around the table, and Aguero’s gaze flicked to Hatz, his Vice President of Engineering, who sat at the far end of the room, arms crossed. Hatz gave him a subtle nod in return, his sharp eyes signaling that everything on the other side of their business was running smoothly.
Shibisu leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We’ve got a meeting with the Boston crew tonight. You want to handle it, or should I take care of things?"
Aguero’s eyes glinted with interest. "I’ll handle it. I need to make sure those assholes understand we’re not playing games."
Shibisu raised an eyebrow. "You think they’re going to push back?"
Aguero let out a low chuckle, his voice dripping with disdain. "I know they are. They always think they’re tougher than they are. But they’ll learn. They always do."
The rest of the meeting dragged on, but Aguero’s mind was already planning the next move. The Boston crew had been stepping on their toes lately, trying to undercut them in several key territories. It was a mistake. Aguero had no intention of letting them get away with it.
As the evening settled in, Aguero found himself back in the familiar territory of the underworld, a dingy warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The air was thick with the stench of oil and metal, the perfect backdrop for the business he was about to conduct.
The Boston crew arrived late, as expected, their leader swaggering in with a cocky grin that Aguero immediately wanted to wipe off his face. But Aguero played the long game. He let the man talk, bluster and boast about how things were going to change. How they were expanding. How they were going to carve out a piece of the pie that Aguero had fought tooth and nail to keep.
Aguero waited until the man was finished before speaking, his voice low and menacing. "You done?" he asked, his tone making it clear he had no patience for this kind of bravado. "Because if you think for one fucking second that I’m going to let you waltz in here and take what’s mine, you’re more delusional than I thought."
The room grew tense, the air crackling with unspoken threats. Aguero stood up, his eyes boring into the Boston leader, daring him to make a move. When the man didn’t, Aguero smirked.
"Here’s how this is going to go," he continued, his voice like ice. "You’re going to back the fuck off, or I’ll make sure you and your crew disappear. Permanently."
The Boston leader shifted uncomfortably, but he didn’t argue. He knew better than to push Aguero. Word on the street was that those who crossed the Khun family didn’t live to tell the tale.
As the meeting wrapped up, Aguero stepped outside, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the heat of the warehouse. Shibisu joined him, hands in his pockets, a satisfied grin on his face.
"Well, that went well," Shibisu commented. "You didn’t even have to throw a punch this time."
Aguero rolled his eyes. "Let’s get out of here before I change my mind."
As they made their way back to the car, Aguero couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. He glanced over his shoulder but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Still, there was an unease settling in his gut. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt that way, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.
Aguero had returned home, the exhaustion from the day weighing heavily on his shoulders. The Khun mansion was starkly different from any other home. His family had built this place with a sense of authority, power, and sometimes even intimidation. It loomed large, a testament to their status in both the business and the underworld.
He tossed his keys onto the table and let out a deep breath, already feeling the tension ease from his muscles. His siblings were scattered throughout the mansion, likely engaged in their own activities. He spotted Hachuling in the hallway, a look of amusement crossing his brother's face as Aguero walked past.
"You look like shit, A.A.," Hachuling quipped, leaning against the wall. "Rough day?"
"Shut up," Aguero snapped back, but there was no bite in his tone. He trudged toward his room, ready to wash the day off him. It was a nightly ritual—cleaning off the remnants of a world that seemed intent on dragging him down.
As he stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over him, Aguero couldn’t help but think of the weight he carried. The family business wasn’t just about cars or profits; it was a dark web of loyalty, fear, and respect. And somewhere, in the midst of that chaos, there was a slow burn waiting to ignite.
The Ha family mansion was alive with activity, filled with the usual hum of well-dressed guests, the clink of glasses, and murmurs of idle chatter. It was a grand event, one of many in a long series hosted by the Ha family to honor their legacy in the engineering industry. It wasn’t the type of gathering Aguero cared to attend, but duty had its obligations, and here he was, standing near the edge of the crowd, his expression etched in a permanent scowl.
He tugged at the collar of his suit, stifling a curse under his breath. His disdain for these types of social events was well-known, and yet the Ha family had specifically requested his presence tonight. Normally, that wouldn’t bother him so much. He could endure an evening of forced smiles and fake pleasantries. What did bother him was the added task they’d dumped on him.
“Keep an eye on their last heir,” they’d said. “Watch over him.”
Aguero rolled his eyes at the thought. Babysitting? Was this really the best use of his time? He had an empire to run, mafia deals to oversee, and countless more important matters than playing the guardian for some clueless, spoiled kid.
He glanced over at Bam, who stood a short distance away, his dark hair tousled, eyes wide with curiosity as he politely nodded at guests who introduced themselves. Bam, the only surviving member of the Ha family, the last living heir of an engineering dynasty, and apparently, the densest person Aguero had ever met.
Aguero let out a quiet sigh, pushing himself off the wall he’d been leaning against and striding toward Bam. There was no escaping this task; the Ha family executive had made that clear. If something happened to the kid on his watch, it would be his neck. As if Bam even needed a babysitter. The guy looked like he was having the time of his life, completely unaware of the world around him.
When Aguero approached, Bam turned and gave him a bright smile, his eyes lighting up. “Oh! Mr. Khun, right?”
“Yeah,” Aguero grunted, his tone sharp and indifferent. “That’s me. I’m the one stuck with you for the night.”
Bam blinked, clearly not catching the sarcasm dripping from Aguero’s voice. Instead, he beamed brighter, as if Aguero had just said something pleasant. “That’s great! I’ve heard a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet.”
Aguero stared at him for a moment, stunned by the sheer innocence radiating off Bam. The kid was a first-year mechanical engineering student, already at the top of his class, and yet here he was, acting as though he hadn’t a care in the world. Aguero suppressed the urge to shake his head. This was going to be a long night.
“Yeah, whatever,” Aguero muttered. “Just don’t wander off and get yourself into trouble.”
Bam tilted his head slightly, a curious glint in his eyes. “You seem... upset. Is everything okay?”
“I’m always like this,” Aguero replied bluntly. “It’s called annoyed.”
Instead of recoiling at Aguero’s harsh tone, Bam just laughed softly. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry if I’m bothering you. I’ll try not to be too much of a burden.”
Aguero was taken aback. Usually, his sharp words put people on edge or made them avoid him altogether, but this kid—he didn’t seem bothered at all. In fact, Bam’s relaxed smile hadn’t faltered once.
“I’m not here to babysit,” Aguero said flatly, watching Bam’s face for any sign of discomfort. “So don’t expect me to hold your hand.”
Bam smiled again, his soft voice oddly calm. “That’s okay. I’m not really used to people looking after me anyway.”
Aguero raised an eyebrow at that. Despite the sharp edges of his personality, something about the way Bam said that made him pause. But he brushed it off quickly, returning to his usual short-tempered self. “Good. So don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
But as much as Aguero tried to keep the conversation at arm’s length, something kept bugging him about this kid. Something about Bam was... off. Aguero felt his mind nagging at him, as if Bam should be like everyone else, but there was a strangeness to the way he interacted. It wasn’t just his dense personality or his naïve smile—it was something deeper, something Aguero couldn’t quite place.
At that moment, Bam's eyes flickered for a split second, as though searching for something—some kind of connection—but then he looked away quickly, almost embarrassed.
Aguero narrowed his eyes, his instincts sharpening. “What are you doing?”
“Huh?” Bam looked up, startled. “Oh, nothing. Sorry, I was just... um... thinking.”
“Bullshit,” Aguero muttered. “You’re acting weird.”
Bam’s eyes widened in surprise at the accusation, and he quickly waved his hands in denial. “No, no, I swear! I wasn’t—"
Aguero leaned in slightly, his gaze piercing. “Kid, I’m not an idiot. You’re trying to do something. What is it?”
Bam froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He couldn’t read Aguero’s mind. He had tried, discreetly, as he always did when meeting new people. It was a habit, something that helped him understand others without them even knowing. But with Aguero... it was like hitting a brick wall. There was nothing. No thoughts, no feelings, no stray images—just... silence.
He blinked, shaking off the confusion. “I—I’m not trying to do anything,” he stammered, looking genuinely bewildered.
Aguero, sensing Bam’s sudden shift in mood, straightened up, his expression still stern but now more curious. The kid was hiding something, but for the life of him, Aguero couldn’t figure out what it was. Not that it mattered. His job was to keep Bam out of trouble, not dig into his personal issues.
“Whatever,” Aguero finally said, dismissing the topic. “Just stick close, okay? I don’t have time to go chasing after you if you wander off.”
Bam nodded quickly, clearly relieved to change the subject. “I’ll stay nearby, I promise.”
The event continued around them, the buzz of the crowd growing louder as more guests arrived. Bam remained by Aguero’s side, offering occasional small talk, most of which Aguero half-listened to. The kid had an oddly soothing presence, even if he didn’t know when to stop talking. Aguero found himself oddly entertained by Bam’s obliviousness. The more Bam tried to strike up a conversation, the more Aguero’s typical harsh responses flew right over his head.
“Your tie looks really nice, by the way,” Bam said suddenly, glancing up at Aguero’s navy-blue tie with genuine admiration.
Aguero blinked, caught off guard by the random compliment. “It’s a tie,” he said flatly.
“I know, but it suits you. I think it brings out your eyes,” Bam continued, completely sincere.
Aguero rolled his eyes, half tempted to groan. “Seriously, what are you talking about? It’s just a piece of fabric.”
Bam shrugged with a light chuckle. “Well, it looks good on you. You have a sharp sense of style.”
For a moment, Aguero stared at Bam, baffled by the innocence of his words. Most people feared him, saw him as cold, detached, even dangerous. But Bam was standing there, complimenting his tie like they were discussing the weather.
“God, you’re dense,” Aguero muttered under his breath, though his voice lacked its usual bite.
Bam, of course, didn’t pick up on the insult. He just smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
Aguero almost laughed at that. Almost. But he caught himself before the expression could show on his face. Instead, he shook his head, deciding to focus on the task at hand.
As the night dragged on, Aguero found himself watching Bam more closely, not because of the Ha family’s request, but out of sheer curiosity. There was something different about the kid. Maybe it was the way he didn’t flinch at Aguero’s temper, or how he seemed to find joy in the simplest things. Or maybe it was that strange moment earlier when Bam had tried—and failed—to do... whatever it was he had tried to do.
Whatever the reason, Aguero couldn’t shake the feeling that this kid was going to be more trouble than he’d bargained for.
The evening eventually wound down, and the guests began to disperse. Bam turned to Aguero, still as bright-eyed as ever. “Thanks for sticking with me tonight. I know it wasn’t your favorite thing to do.”
Aguero grunted in response, crossing his arms. “It’s my job. Don’t make it sound like I had a choice.”
Bam laughed softly, and once again, Aguero was struck by how unaffected the kid was by his attitude.
“Well, I appreciate it anyway,” Bam said, his tone genuinely grateful. “I hope we can talk again sometime.”
“Yeah, sure,” Aguero muttered, already thinking about leaving. But as he turned to go, he caught one last glimpse of Bam’s smile, and for a brief moment, something unfamiliar stirred in his chest.
He shook it off quickly. Whatever this feeling was, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t here to make friends. He had a job to do, and that was all that mattered. With one final glance at Bam, Aguero turned and walked away, his mind already shifting back to the empire waiting for him beyond the walls of the Ha family mansion. But as he left, he couldn’t quite shake the strange feeling that tonight had been the beginning of something... different.