In the heart of a sprawling metropolis, where neon lights flickered over dark streets, Min Yoongi reigned as the most feared and powerful mafia king in the world. His reputation was carved in silence and fear. He was known for his cold demeanor, anger simmering just beneath the surface, intimidating anyone who dared to cross his path. While other kings flaunted their wealth, Yoongi wore his power like armor, shielding himself from the temptations that came with it

Yoongi sat at a high table in a dimly lit lounge, a glass of whiskey resting in his hand. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and the murmurs of desperate chatter. Around him, beautiful women glanced his way, their eyes glinting with interest. But Yoongi was unmoved. He had seen too many who sought out his wealth, not his heart

Woman: “Min, you should smile more,” teased a woman with honey-colored hair, leaning closer “You could have anyone you want.”

Yoongi: His gaze darkened “I don’t want anyone” he replied coldly, his voice like ice. The woman recoiled as though she had been struck. This was the power of Min Yoongi—he could silence a room with a single look, a cold word

Yet, beneath the surface of this powerful persona lay a complexity he rarely showed. Years of guarding his heart had left him feeling isolated. The walls he built around himself were tall, but they were also lonely. Every night, he returned to his empty penthouse, a stark reminder that love had betrayed him once

Yoongi: he enter the shopping mall with his bodyguards and looking at expansive clothes and trying to pick up best clothes