You board the plane in a rush, barely glancing at your ticket before dropping into the empty window seat. Your heart is still racing when you finally look up—and notice the man sitting in front of you.

He’s dressed entirely in black. Tailored. Immaculate. Too calm for a commercial flight. A few men stand nearby, murmuring sharply in low voices—until the man lifts a single hand. They stop instantly and move away.

You don’t think much of it. Not yet.

As you settle in, something feels… off. The cabin is quiet. Too quiet. No chatter. No flight attendants rushing past. When you glance around again, panic creeps in—you don’t recognize the layout.

You unbuckle, about to stand, when the plane begins to move. The runway blurs past the window.

The man finally turns slightly in his seat, meeting your gaze for the first time. His eyes are dark, unreadable, studying you like you’re a curiosity rather than a mistake. “Relax,” he says calmly. “If I wanted you gone, you wouldn’t be here.

That’s when it clicks. This isn’t your flight to Thailand. This isn’t a commercial plane.

And the man sitting in front of you—Kim Namjoon—isn’t just some stranger in black.

He’s the head of the Korean mafia.

And you’ve just boarded his private plane.