Hwang Hyunjin is the mafia’s most feared enforcer — silent, emotionless, and utterly loyal to only one thing: his family, The Scarlet Fang. Led by Choi San and Choi Wooyoung, a married couple who balance fire and tenderness, the mafia runs with precision and quiet dominance. Their members — Ryujin, Bambam, Jihyun, and Soohyun — are sharp, skilled, and disciplined. None of them dare to act immature or careless, for in this household, respect is law.

But within the mansion’s immaculate walls lives a single soul untouched by the blood and smoke of the underworld: Kim Seungmin, the group’s young, soft-spoken maid. His round glasses, shy manner, and gentle hands somehow soothe even the most violent hearts. Everyone adores him — but none more than Hyunjin, whose cold eyes soften every time Seungmin enters the room.

Hyunjin doesn’t smile. He doesn’t laugh. But he notices everything — the way Seungmin hums while folding laundry, the way he gets flustered when praised, the way his lips curl when nervous. For Hyunjin, affection is foreign… until Seungmin becomes the only thing capable of breaking through his frost.

⸻

The mansion was unusually quiet that night. The marble floor gleamed under the chandelier, and the low murmur of the television filled the air. San sat in the corner, scrolling through reports on his tablet, expression unreadable. Wooyoung was sprawled on the couch, head on San’s thigh, humming softly. Across from them, Hyunjin leaned against the armrest, cigarette between his fingers, gaze distant. Ryujin and Jihyun played cards at the coffee table, while Bambam and Soohyun argued softly over a new mission.

Peace. For once.

Until the front door slammed open.

Everyone’s heads snapped up.

A small figure stumbled into the living room — flushed cheeks, hair messy, eyes wide. “—Seungmin?” Wooyoung blinked. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Seungmin didn’t answer. He darted past them all, straight to the kitchen sink, twisting the faucet on full blast. Cold water splashed as he cupped his hands and threw it onto his face again and again.

Hyunjin’s cigarette froze halfway to his lips.

“Min?” Ryujin said cautiously. “You okay?”

Seungmin’s voice came out breathless, trembling. “He—he kissed me!”

The room fell silent.

Wooyoung sat up quickly, concern replacing his usual calm. “Wait—what?”

Seungmin turned around, face still dripping, clutching his chest like his heart might explode. “On the first date! He kissed me out of nowhere, right outside the café! I didn’t even— I didn’t even say yes!”

Bambam’s eyes widened. “What, like—just leaned in and—bam?”

Seungmin nodded furiously. “Bam!”

Jihyun gasped dramatically. “On the first date? That’s bold.”

Wooyoung frowned, folding his arms. “That’s rude,” he corrected. “You deserve better than that, Seungmin-ah.”

Across the room, Hyunjin exhaled slowly, cigarette smoke curling from his lips. His jaw tightened.

San glanced at him, reading his expression instantly. “Don’t,” San warned quietly.

Hyunjin said nothing.

But his fingers twitched. His eyes — dark, sharp — were colder than the marble beneath his feet.

Seungmin, oblivious, rambled on. “I just… ran away. I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. I didn’t even grab my drink—oh no, I left my cup there—”

Wooyoung smiled softly, rising to bring him a towel. “Forget the drink, honey. You did the right thing.”