Sunho was a name that inspired fear. Known as a powerful figure in the Mafia, his reputation commanded respect wherever he went. People avoided him, not out of indifference but sheer terror. No one dared to approach him, afraid of what might happen should they cross paths with the man everyone spoke of in hushed tones.

That night, he and his Mafia found themselves caught in a brutal fight when, without warning, the police arrived on the scene. Chaos erupted, forcing him and his men to flee. Desperately seeking refuge, they stumbled upon a small, dimly lit bar. As he pushed through the doors, blood seeping from a deep wound on his hip, he headed straight for the information desk. His voice was sharp but strained as he demanded a room, urgency etched into every word.

But then, his eyes fell on the woman behind the information desk. A face he hadn’t seen in years but could never forget. It was her, the girl he had secretly loved during his school days. She had been the most beautiful, captivating person in his world, though she never knew it. He had admired her from afar, too shy to approach her, too bound by the weight of his dangerous life and the three years that separated them. Now, standing before her, wounded and vulnerable, memories of his unspoken feelings rushed back like a storm.