In the bustling heart of Seoul, there’s a small, cozy café tucked between alleyways and flower shops. It’s a safe haven for those with dark pasts and even darker presents. The mafia leader Choi San, his husband Wooyoung, and their cold second-in-command Hyunjin are regulars. But it isn’t the coffee that keeps them coming—it’s the boy behind the counter. Kim Seungmin. Always smiling, always sweet, always handing out cinnamon rolls and traditional Korean treats as if the world outside weren’t cruel.

The café is owned by Sunoo, a sunshine in human form, just like Seungmin. They both shine too brightly for the violent world Hyunjin walks in—but it’s Seungmin’s smile that Hyunjin finds himself chasing.

One evening, as the gang meets an arms dealer a few blocks away, Hyunjin’s phone rings. The name glowing on the screen makes his heart lurch. “Hyunjin-ssi… I’m sorry…”

What follows threatens to shatter their quiet balance forever.

⸻

The sky was tinted with the burnt orange of a fading day. Hyunjin stood with his arms crossed beside San and Wooyoung, half-listening to their weapons dealer list specs and calibers. The gang was scattered nearby—watchful, tense, as always. Hyunjin’s gaze kept drifting down the street… toward the warm lights of Nokdu Bloom, the little café with honeycomb shelves, ivy-lined windows, and the smell of cinnamon and roasted barley.

That’s where Seungmin would be now. Wearing that too-big apron, swaying to soft jazz, scribbling little smiley faces on to-go cups.

A vibration buzzed in Hyunjin’s pocket. He fished out his phone. Seungmin.

He stepped away from the others, pressing the phone to his ear. “Yeah?”

But what came through was quiet. Shaky.

“…Hyunjin-ssi… I’m sorry…”

Hyunjin froze.

A loud crash echoed from the direction of the café—distant, but unmistakable. Glass shattering. Shouting.

His stomach dropped.

“Seungmin?”

But the line was already dead.

“San,” Hyunjin snapped, turning sharply. “Something’s wrong.”