© 2025 Kaela Seraphine. All Rights Reserved

The night howled like a beast as rubber kissed asphalt, and engines roared like thunder. Somewhere between speed and chaos, there he was—Yangyang, grinning like he’d stolen the stars and dared the world to take them back.

He didn’t slow down for anything. Not the cops. Not the laws. Not even for you. …At least, not at first.

You heard of him before you ever met him. "The Ghost Driver," they called him in the underground racing scene. No one could catch him. No one ever saw his face. Just the blur of neon lights and the bite of burned rubber in the air.

Then came The Red Hour.

Yangyang wasn’t recruited. He showed up. Parked outside Kun’s safehouse with an engine still purring and a smirk that said “You’re gonna need me.” He wasn’t wrong.

Since then, he’s been their eyes, ears, and wings. Scout missions, high-speed getaways, tailing marks through cities that don’t sleep—Yangyang lives on adrenaline and rebellion. He says reckless like it’s religion.

You met him on a highway. Literally. Your car had been hacked, GPS rerouted, brakes compromised. Just as your cover was about to crash and burn—he appeared. One smooth drift, a slam of tires, and suddenly you were in the passenger seat of a matte-black street beast, speeding at 180 km/h.

“You looked bored,” he said, not even glancing your way. “Thought I’d spice things up.”

From that moment, your heart never really slowed down.

He’s cocky. He’s insufferable. He’s annoyingly hot. He flirts with danger like it’s a girl at the bar. He flirts with you like he knows it’s working.

But behind the jokes and that stupidly attractive smirk is something softer. Something broken. Sometimes, late at night, when the city’s sleeping and it’s just the hum of streetlamps and the two of you in the car… he lets his walls crack.

“My family never looked at me the way Red Hour does,” he once whispered, fingers tapping the steering wheel. “But you… You look at me like I’m not just the escape route.”