~Chapter 6] pending danger~
The masked men moved fast.
Charging towards Alex like zombies.
Alex's body reacted on instinct. Years of training kicked in before his mind could catch up. He rolled off the couch as the first attacker swung a baton at his head. It missed by inches, smashing into the leather where he'd been sitting.
Alex came up in a crouch, balanced, ready.
The attacker lunged for the second time, swinging his baton at Alex again. But just as Alex raised his arm in defense, Moon moved.
Alex's eyes widened as Moon intercepted the attacker—grabbed his arm, twisted, sent him crashing into the wall. The man dropped.
A second attacker came from the side. Moon ducked under the swing, drove his elbow into the man's ribs, followed with a strike to the throat. He went down.
"Stay behind me!" Moon shouted.
But Alex was too shocked his feet wouldn't move. When a third man broke away and came at him, his reflexes kicked in. He sidestepped the punch, caught the man's wrist, and used his momentum to slam him into the desk. The attacker's head cracked against the wood. He went down hard.
Alex turned, ready for a next one, but Moon had already handled the other two.
The last attacker tried to run—Moon grabbed a heavy book and threw it. Perfect aim. It hit the back of the attackers head. He dropped.
The whole fight took maybe thirty seconds.
Five men. All down. Some unconscious, some groaning.
Alex stood there, breathing hard, his fists still clenched. His heart pounded against his ribs. Staring down at the unconscious man, and back to Moon.
"Mr Lee!"
Moon spun around, his eyes wide with something. Fear. panic. He moved toward Alex, scanning him quickly for injuries.
Their eyes met.
Moon froze.
Alex just stared at him. Shocked. Confused. His mind trying to process what he'd just witnessed.
Five armed hefty men. Moon had taken down four of them like it was nothing. Like he'd done it a thousand times before.
"Are you hurt?"
Moon's voice was tight. Urgent.
Alex couldn't speak for a moment. Just kept staring.
"I'm fine." His voice was barely a whisper.
Moon's eyes swept over him once more, checking, making sure. Then something in his expression shifted. The panic faded. His mask started sliding back into place.
But Alex had seen it. That moment of genuine fear. Fear for him.
"You—" Alex finally found his voice. "What was that?"
Moon looked around at the five unconscious men scattered across the destroyed parlor. Books everywhere. Furniture overturned. Then back at Alex.
"Self-defense," he said simply.
"That wasn't self-defense."
Alex's voice was sharper now.
"That was, you moved like—"
Running footsteps cut him off. The estate's security guards burst in, weapons drawn.
"Mr. Lee!"
The head of security looked around in shock.
"What happened? Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine," Alex said.
"Intruders. Five of them."
"We stopped them,"
Moon added, fixing his tie like nothing had happened.
"You should call the police. And check outside—there might be more."
The guards moved fast. They tied up the attackers and spoke into their radios.
Mr. Max appeared in his robe, his face calm but his eyes sharp.
"Young master."
He walked over quickly, scanning Alex for injuries.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Mr. Kim?"
"Unharmed," Moon said.
Mr. Max's eyes stayed on Moon for a moment, studying him, before turning back to Alex.
"I'll arrange for more security. The house will be fully protected within the hour."
"Alex nodded."
Mr. Max went over to talk to the guards.
Moon started gathering the files that had scattered during the fight. His hands were bleeding from the impacts, but he didn't seem to care.
Alex watched him. His mind was too chaotic to think clearly. Too much had just happened. The attack. Moon's fighting. The danger.
Who were those men? Why now? And what else was Moon hiding?
_______
An hour later, the house had settled into an uneasy quiet. The guards had taken the intruders away. Mr. Max was coordinating security. The broken glass had been swept up.
Moon sat on the couch in the parlor, his jacket discarded, shirt still slightly disheveled. He was examining his scraped knuckles, flexing his fingers slowly.
Alex walked in carrying a first aid box.
He stopped in front of Moon and placed the box on the coffee table.
"Clean yourself up," Alex said, his voice flat. Cold.
Moon looked up at him, then at the box.
"Thank you."
Alex didn't move. Just stood there, staring down at Moon with an unreadable expression.
The silence stretched.
Moon reached for the box, but Alex's voice stopped him.
"Who are you?"
Moon's hand paused. He looked up slowly.
"I'm your assistant—"
"Don't."
Alex's voice was sharp.
"Don't give me that lame answer again. Who are you really? Cause an ordinary assistant like you shouldn't be able to fight like that."
Moon lowered his gaze. And continued opening the first box.
"I told you. It's for self defense, we were lucky—."
"Four men."
Alex took a step closer.
"You took down four armed, trained men in under thirty seconds. That wasn't luck. That wasn't just 'learning to defend yourself.' That was professional."
Moon's jaw tightened slightly. But his expression remained calm. Almost innocent.
"I trained hard. Really hard."
"For what?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes." Alex's voice was cold. Controlled.
Moon was quiet for a moment. Then he shrugged slightly, that playful edge creeping back into his voice.
"I learned to fight because I didn't want to be helpless. I saw people get hurt, get bullied, and I couldn't do anything. So I made sure I'd never be in that position."
The answer was simple. Almost too simple. But the way Moon said it—quiet, honest—made it sound real.
Alex wanted to push. To demand the full truth. But his mind was still too scrambled from everything that had just happened.
"It's late,"
Alex said instead. His voice came out firmer than he intended.
"You're staying here tonight. Pick any of the guest rooms. It won't be safe for you to drive back at this hour, and I'll need you here tomorrow morning anyway."
Moon looked at him for a moment, then nodded.
"Of course, Mr. Lee."
"Alex," he corrected. "If you're working this closely with me, use my first name."
Something shifted in Moon's expression.
"Alright. Alex."
The way he said it felt different. More personal.
"Mr. Max will show you to a room," Alex said. "Good night."
"Good night."
Alex turned and headed upstairs. His legs felt heavy. His mind wouldn't stop racing.
Someone had just tried to attack him in his own home.
And his assistant—who supposedly just knew how to fight to help people—had taken down four trained attackers like it was nothing.
Nothing about this made sense.
But he was too tired to think about anything tonight.
In his room, Alex stripped off his pajama shirt and tossed it aside. He pulled on a regular t-shirt and collapsed onto his bed.
Sleep wouldn't come.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw masked men. Heard glass breaking. Saw Moon move with that deadly precision.
He stared at the ceiling.
Who was Kim Moony?
And why does he get the feeling that everything was about to get much worse.