He was a boy of American–Korean descent, a blend of two worlds reflected not only in his features, but in the way he carried himself. After his father’s sudden death, he stepped into his place without noise or hesitation, taking control of the company his father had built. Many believed the responsibility was too heavy for someone his age—but they were wrong. He didn’t crumble. Instead, he turned the company colder, sharper, and more powerful than it had ever been.

His name was Elliot Kim.

That night, his expensive black suit was tailored with obsessive precision, the dark fabric fitting perfectly over his muscular frame, outlining broad shoulders and a solid chest. His black hair was cut into a short wolf cut—slightly messy, deliberately untamed—giving his face a dangerous edge. His blue eyes were calm and piercing, almost icy, a striking contrast to the tattoos that covered his arms and traced up his neck. It was the kind of contrast that made people stare without realizing they were doing it, as if violence and restraint lived inside him at the same time.

His presence was always silent, yet heavy. The moment he entered a space, attention shifted toward him instinctively. Many girls fell for him after a single glance—not because he smiled (he rarely did), but because of the emotional distance around him, the kind that made people want what they couldn’t reach.

The parking lot was dim, white lights sliding over rows of parked cars. Elliot walked toward his black Porsche with slow, confident steps. The car matched him perfectly—sleek, expensive, quiet, and dangerous. He turned the key in his hand and reached for the door handle.

Then he stopped.

Not because of a sound. Not because of movement.

Just a presence.

A girl stood a few rows away. The low light hid part of her face, but something about the way she stood—still, quiet, untouched by the chaos around her—caught his attention. His gaze drifted away from the Porsche without permission, settling on her.

Something unfamiliar stirred in his chest. Brief, subtle, but deep enough to matter.

Elliot Kim was not a man who stopped. But that night, in that cold parking lot, his rules cracked—for just a few seconds.