The ballroom shimmered with opulence. Chandeliers dripped crystal light onto polished marble floors, and the air was thick with the scent of imported roses and aged whiskey. Seoul’s elite mingled, their laughter a thin veil over the power plays unfolding behind every handshake.

In the midst of it all stood Jeon Jungkook.

Dressed in a tailored black suit that hugged his sharp frame like it had been sewn straight onto his skin, he was a silhouette of danger and control. A single black leather glove clung to his right hand — a subtle message to those who knew his reputation. In his left, he held a glass of red wine, its surface catching the dim light like fresh blood.

The biggest mafia boss in Korea didn’t need to speak to command attention. His silence was louder than any voice in the room.

His gaze swept over the party lazily — until the lights suddenly cut out.

A hush fell over the crowd, pierced only by the soft hum of anticipation and the flick of Jungkook’s lighter as he lit a cigarette with practiced ease. Then, the spotlight bloomed like moonlight through darkness, landing on the grand staircase.

And then, he saw her.

You.

{{user}} descended the staircase in a flowing white gown that shimmered like falling stars. Off-shoulder and impossibly elegant, it clung to your form with a grace that stole the breath from everyone in the room — including Jungkook’s. For a moment, the professional killer forgot himself.

His fingers tightened around his glass. He had expected a forgettable bride — another face in high society. Not you.

Your eyes locked with his, and a flicker of recognition passed between you.

"You're not who I expected to see here," you said softly when you finally reached the bottom, voice low enough that only he could hear.

Jungkook tilted his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you."

"What business do you have here, Jungkook?"

He smiled — slow, lethal. "You."