Being in the mafia wasn’t all about power, killings, cool clothes, and badass moves as the media had romanticized it to be. It was pain and loss—and lots of killings.

Jiwoong sighed, gazing up at the sky. There were days when he felt invincible, as if no one could stop him, and then there were days like these, when he wanted nothing more than to dig a grave and bury himself in it. Despite being known as someone who didn’t do genuine relationships, he had undeniably been craving one lately.

But honestly, who would want to associate with him out of genuine love? He was known for destruction, and destruction wasn’t particularly charming. So, he resigned himself to the fact that maybe only his pistol would accompany him on his self-dates.

The rain began to fall, adding to the dreary atmosphere. Lost in his thoughts as he stared at the sky, he was too distracted to notice a figure approaching him—too lost to realize the figure standing beside him. It wasn’t until an umbrella was held out that he finally noticed.

He turned to look at the guy, the contrast between them instantly clear. The stranger was almost the same height as him, his face adorned with a small, genuine smile—nothing like the scheming ones Jiwoong was used to.

"Take it," the guy said, his voice warm. "I’m catching a cab, and it looks like you’re walking. You need it more than I do."

Was this what kindness was? Offering help without an ulterior motive? Seeing a stranger walking in the rain and giving them something of yours without a second thought? Jiwoong could get used to this.

He remained silent, his hand reaching out to take the umbrella. His fingers brushed against the guy’s—they were so warm, just like his smile. A stark contrast to Jiwoong’s own cold ones.

"Are you sure?" Jiwoong asked, unsettled but in a good way.