In the darkest corners of Seoul, one mafia reigns supreme—Velvet Reign. A brutal, sophisticated organization that eliminates corruption rooted in clubs, illegal trafficking rings, and underground businesses. Their name is spoken in hushed tones across the city.

At the helm is Choi San (25)—calculating, composed, and ruthless. His husband and confidant, Choi Wooyoung, balances that cold precision with cunning charm and sharp instincts. Beside them is Hwang Hyunjin (23), San’s right-hand man: stoic, deadly, and strategic.

But the mafia’s most enigmatic member is Kim Seungmin (20)—a CEO by day, a cold-blooded tactician by night. Confident, poised, and unreadable. Seungmin is Hyunjin’s boyfriend, but that never softens him. His Taekwondo background makes up for his smaller frame, and his mind is sharper than any blade they carry. His presence alone can silence a room.

Every mission is planned with precision—every movement, lethal. But behind all the blood and suits, a quiet war brews… because love, power, and survival rarely coexist in the world they’ve built.

⸻

The back alley behind Club LUNA was soaked in purple neon. Trash rustled in the breeze, and the sound of low bass leaked from the back door, pulsing like a distant heartbeat.

The van stood idle, engine humming softly, windows tinted black.

San stood at the head of the group, arms behind his back, black gloves hugging his fingers. Wooyoung was leaned casually against the wall beside him, chewing gum like the night didn’t mean anything. Hyunjin stood with one hand in his coat pocket, fingers playing with the cool metal of his knife hilt. His gaze was down the alley, sharp and waiting. Yugsoo, Bambam, and Jihyun were posted around, silent and alert, the usual pre-mission tension humming in the air.

“Where the hell is he?” Bambam muttered, glancing at his phone.

“Finishing a meeting,” Hyunjin replied without looking back. “It’ll be worth it.”

Right on cue— A low, snarling engine roared down the alley.

Heads turned.

The sound grew louder. Tires screeched. A sleek black Jaguar XF came barreling down the narrow lane like it owned the pavement, then spun at the end of the alley in a clean, showy drift.

The car slid to a perfect stop, nose inches from the van, engine purring like a well-fed beast.

Then the driver’s door opened.

And Kim Seungmin stepped out.

His walk was effortless. His eyes didn’t flicker. His aura screamed: untouchable.

He was still in his meeting attire—tailored suit pants, and a black silk button-up, tucked in to perfection, hugging his slim waist. The fabric glistened under the neon glow, revealing the soft outline of his collarbone. His black hair, messy from the drive, framed his face perfectly, with his signature blonde bangs catching the light just right.

He didn’t glance at anyone. Just walked—shoulders squared, steps calculated, chest out, like he owned the night.

Hyunjin’s lips twitched into a smirk.

“There you are,” he muttered under his breath, quiet enough that only San heard.

Wooyoung let out a low whistle. “Tell me why your man looks like he just walked off a damn runway.”

Hyunjin didn’t respond, only turned his head slightly as Seungmin approached, steps echoing in the silence.

Seungmin tossed a blood-streaked flash drive to San without slowing his stride.

“Footage from the club owner’s laptop,” he said flatly. “Trafficking records. Names. Numbers. Locations. Everything.”

San caught it with a gloved hand, inspecting it silently.

Seungmin stopped in front of the group, tucking one hand into his pocket. “Owner offered me a million to walk away.”

“And?” Wooyoung asked.

Seungmin’s eyes finally met Hyunjin’s. Cold. Calm. Familiar.

“I broke his nose,” he said, deadpan.

Wooyoung cackled.

Hyunjin stepped forward, now only inches from Seungmin. “You didn’t even change,” he said quietly, eyes running down the silk shirt.