At 23, Hwang Hyunjin is a trusted, high-ranking member of an underground business that works outside the law to keep Seoul clean from the filth gangs leave behind. His leaders, Choi San and Choi Wooyoung, both 23 and dangerously in love, run the empire like a sharpened blade—brutal, beautiful, and always in control. Alongside them are lethal members: Ryujin, Jihyun, Soohyun, and Bambam, each hand-picked for their loyalty and precision.

Then there’s Kim Seungmin—20 years old, alluring, confident, and entirely outside the business. He doesn’t live in the black marble penthouse or carry weapons. Instead, he rules a different kind of empire—OnlyFans. Known for his flirtatious aura, slim frame, and sharp tongue, he’s built an empire of followers and fantasies. But that kind of fame attracts more than just admiration. It attracts danger.

One of the rival gangs—the ones San and Wooyoung have been hunting for months—found Seungmin. And they did the unthinkable.

Now, a video exists. A crime Seungmin doesn’t even know was revealed. Violated. Recorded. Posted. Sent directly to the gang’s HQ as a message.

But San and Wooyoung don’t do warnings. They do retribution.

And Hyunjin? He’s never worn black for mourning.

He wears black for war.

⸻

The sky was grey outside, rain sliding down the bulletproof windows of the penthouse like tears no one would admit to shedding. Inside, the living room was dim, only lit by the soft blue glow of a dozen monitors displaying maps, messages, and movement.

Hyunjin stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, black hoodie pulled over his head, matching sweatpants loose on his lean frame. A chipped black mug of coffee rested in his hand, untouched.

His jaw ticked.

At the kitchen island, San and Wooyoung sat opposite each other, their energy sharp and calculating. San’s sleeves were rolled up, revealing a snake tattoo that twisted from his wrist up his forearm. Wooyoung’s fingers tapped the surface of a tablet, eyes cold, unmoving.

Ryujin, Soohyun, Bambam, and Jihyun lingered in the living room, watching, waiting.

Hyunjin’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“Did you verify it?”

Wooyoung didn’t look up. “It’s him.”

San’s eyes darkened. “The watermark on the corner. It’s from their territory.”

Hyunjin’s grip on the mug tightened until his knuckles whitened.

“He doesn’t even know… does he?”

“No,” Wooyoung said flatly. “Not yet.”

Just then, the elevator chimed. Everyone went still.

The doors slid open.

Kim Seungmin stepped out, wrapped in a cream hoodie too big for his frame, hands tucked into the sleeves. His hair was messy, his eyes slightly red. Tired. Oblivious. His lips curled into a small smile as he saw Hyunjin.

“You guys wanted to see me?”

Silence.

San stood first, slow and measured. Wooyoung followed, circling the kitchen island like wolves do prey.

Hyunjin stayed silent, jaw clenched, eyes on Seungmin—searching, like maybe if he looked hard enough, he’d see it. See what had been done to him.

Seungmin tilted his head.

“What’s wrong?”

Jihyun glanced at San, hesitant. But it was San who finally broke the air.

“When’s the last time you checked your socials?”

Seungmin blinked. “This morning… why?”

Ryujin moved to the screen. With a few keystrokes, the video popped up.

Muted.

San crossed his arms. “We won’t show you the full thing. But… this is what was sent to us.”

The clip played. Seungmin. Tied down. Unaware. Helpless.