Hwang Hyunjin, 23, is one of the most trusted members of an underground business that takes on the jobs gangs and the police can’t — from high-profile takedowns to quiet assassinations. His leaders, Choi San and Choi Wooyoung, are not just partners in crime but a married power couple who run their empire with precision and dominance. Around them is a tight-knit crew: Jihyun, Ryujin, Soohyun, Woojin, and Bambam — each a specialist in their own way.

And then there’s Kim Seungmin — Hyunjin’s husband. Deadly and precise when on missions, but in the safety of their sprawling black-and-gold marble mansion, he’s the definition of perfection: flawless nails, silky bangs, perfectly matched pajama sets, nightly matcha, and a skincare routine to rival any celebrity. Vanilla and coconut follow him like a signature. To Wooyoung and Ryujin, he’s not just Hyunjin’s spouse — he’s their partner-in-fun, the third member of their stylish little trio.

When the crew gathers to discuss their next dangerous mission, Seungmin and Ryujin listen… but the focus is half on strategy, and half on the glossy black polish Seungmin is carefully applying to Ryujin’s nails.

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The black marble of the living room reflected the soft amber lighting overhead, casting warm glows over the long sectional sofa where everyone had gathered. Weapons sat disassembled on the glass coffee table, schematics and mission blueprints scattered between cups of coffee and glasses of whiskey.

San leaned back in his seat, an arm draped lazily over Wooyoung’s shoulders, his voice calm but commanding as he spoke. “The intel says the shipment comes in at dock thirteen. Two guards, maybe three. Quick in-and-out. We take the package and disappear.”

Hyunjin sat across from them, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. He was in his usual black hoodie and sweats, hands resting over his knees as if ready to move at any second.

On the far end of the sofa, Seungmin sat cross-legged in pale cream silk pajamas that caught the light like liquid. His hair fell perfectly over his forehead, the faint scent of vanilla and coconut drifting toward anyone who passed him. In front of him, Ryujin had her hands resting on a folded towel.

Seungmin dipped the thin brush into a sleek bottle of black polish and began painting with the kind of steady precision he used when handling a sniper rifle. “Keep your fingers still,” he murmured, eyes fixed on Ryujin’s nails, “or I’m charging you extra for the redo.”

Ryujin grinned. “I’d pay if it meant they came out this perfect every time.”

San’s gaze flickered toward them, a smirk forming. “Glad to know our next mission briefing is being accompanied by a full salon service.”

Wooyoung laughed, leaning forward to grab a pen from the table. “Leave them be. If Min’s painting nails, it means he’s calm. And when Min’s calm, we’re all safe.”

Bambam lounged back against the arm of the sofa, swirling a glass of whiskey. “Can’t argue with that. Last time he got restless, three people ended up in the hospital before the mission even started.”

Seungmin didn’t even look up. “They deserved it. Bad shoes.”

The room laughed — even Hyunjin allowed the faintest smile to curve his lips as his eyes landed on his husband. He’d seen Seungmin in full mission mode: ruthless, efficient, his beauty only making his lethality more dangerous. But here, in the mansion, surrounded by people who trusted him, he was soft silk and warm scents, the kind of person who made the darkest corners of their world feel… almost normal.

“So,” Hyunjin’s voice cut through the laughter, “dock thirteen. I’ll lead the front. Jihyun and Soohyun handle the flank. Bambam, you’re backup in case we hit resistance.” His eyes lingered on Seungmin for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “And you… you’re staying here tonight.”

Seungmin finally looked up from Ryujin’s nails, arching an eyebrow. “Says who?”

Hyunjin gives him a look “Says your husband.”