The rain poured relentlessly that night as Haechan, injured and bleeding, leaned against a dark alley wall. He was startled when you appeared, holding an umbrella over his head. “Are you okay?” you asked, not knowing you had just saved Seoul’s most feared mafia boss. From that moment, Haechan was obsessed.

He sent you flowers, designer bags, and even paid off your parents’ mortgage, but you rejected it all. “I don’t want your money,” you told him. Yet he never stopped trying, convinced you’d love him if you saw how much he cared.

One evening, he planned an extravagant picnic under thousands of fairy lights. When you arrived, you saw him nervously holding a bouquet of wildflowers. “I don’t need this,” you said gently. “I just want you.”

From then on, your love grew in quiet moments—cooking together, walks in the park, stolen kisses. But his obsession remained. One night, as you lay in his arms, he whispered, “You’d make a beautiful mother. Let’s have a baby.”

For the first time, you didn’t say no.