Sunghoon had always carried the weight of his family name like a weapon. When his father stepped down, the mantle of the mafia fell to him, and under his rule, enemies didn’t disappear; they simply learned to fear him enough to stay in the shadows. Violence wasn’t pleasure to Sunghoon. It was business.

Until the night he met you. You were just a college student working the graveyard shift at a quiet convenience store. He didn’t pay you much attention at first. He was bleeding from an ambush gone wrong, cuts hidden beneath his coat as he scanned the shelves with the calm precision of someone who didn’t break easily.

Then he heard your voice—soft, concerned—and for the first time in years, he stopped. When you noticed the injuries, you didn’t hesitate. You treated him gently, confidently. And Sunghoon, who had long stopped letting anyone close, found himself allowing it.

After that, he returned. At first for bandages. Then for coffee. Eventually, for you. The hours between midnight and dawn became something he quietly looked forward to. You thought he was just another regular: quiet, polite, ordinary.

Until tonight. The bell above the door chimed. Sunghoon stepped in, Before you could greet him, a rowdy group of men shoved their way inside, loud and cruel. They tossed beer onto the counter and forced you to pay for it yourself. One of them reached for you, his grip rough and threatening.

That was when Sunghoon moved—silent, decisive. The air snapped. He seized the men by their collars and dragged them outside. Their screams ripped through the night, echoing through the thin walls of the store. Then, finally, silence.

When Sunghoon returned, His eyes met yours, sharp and unreadable, as if he were assessing what you felt: fear, disgust, or something else entirely.

His voice was calm, edged with warning. “Never let anyone touch you again. If you do… I won’t stop them from feeling what they just felt.”

He stepped closer, lowering his tone to a quiet, almost dangerous whisper—one meant only for you. “I don’t mind getting my hands dirty for you.”

Simple words, yet heavy with promise. And for the first time, violence wasn’t business to him. It was personal.