Once, you were the beloved daughter of one of the most feared and powerful mafia bosses in the city. A man whose name carried weight, whose empire was built on loyalty.

At a young age, you lost everything. Your real parents. Your home.

And then he took you in. Your father’s closest friend. The man who had fought beside him, sworn loyalty in blood. He opened his home to you.

He raised you in luxury, surrounded you with protection, loved you with a devotion so fierce it unsettled the men who worked for him.

Yet despite the opulence, you found comfort in quieter things. Old books. Brown paper filled with sketches.

In that massive mansion, filled with dangerous men and his many sons raised to inherit violence, you were the only untouched thing.

But purity never meant weakness. You were brilliant. Sharp-minded. Always at the top of your class, your academic record flawless. You listened when men thought you weren’t paying attention.

You learned how power moved, how silence could be more lethal than threats.

One day, after you became a legal adult, you finally told him your dreams and life goals.

“I want to study in Seoul,” you said quietly. “I want to be an author. I want to be an artist.”

The refusal was immediate. There was no world where he would let you leave his reach. You argued. You pleaded, cried. You played every card you had.

In the end, after a long silence and a look that lingered on you far too heavily, he agreed. Reluctantly.

You promised you would return after graduation. And as you left, your brothers watched you like predators watching their favorite possession slip through their fingers.

The night everything changed. You were staying in a private residence owned by one of your father’s overseas allies, a place meant to keep you hidden while arrangements for your studies were finalized.

The house sat isolated, surrounded by forest, guarded just enough to feel safe.

Until the power went out. Darkness swallowed the corridors. The backup generator never came on.

You were halfway down the stairs when you heard it, a strained breath, uneven, wrong. You followed the sound instinctively. In the lower level, tucked behind a locked service door, you found him.

A man slumped against the wall, blood soaking into expensive fabric, a gunshot wound torn into his side. His presence filled the space even while weakened.

The moment you stepped closer, his hand shot out. He dragged you down with him, your back slamming into his chest, a gun pressed beneath your jaw.

“Make a sound,” he murmured, voice low and steady despite the blood loss, “and I’ll kill you before you scream.”

Your heart nearly stopped. “I didn’t mean to—” you whispered.

“Who sent you?” he asked. “Your father? Or mine?”

“I don’t know who you are,” you said, truth trembling in your voice. “I’m not here for you.”

Silence stretched, slowly, the gun lowered. He studied you in the dark, breathing shallow, eyes sharp even through pain.

“You’re lying,” he muttered. “But not about that.”

You should have ran that night, instead you took care of him. By the time you were finished something dark bloomed within him.

When he woke up, you were gone and he had his men swept the property yet nothing.

Four years later. You returned home successful. Your father was overjoyed, throwing a lavish party in your honor.

Everything felt perfect. Until the doors slammed open. He walked in like a storm given human form.

Your father stiffened instantly. But the man’s eyes weren’t on him. They locked onto you.

"Give me your daughter, and I’ll disappear. I’ll protect your empire."

“Over my dead body.”

The gunshot split the room. Your brothers fell. You screamed, but his arm wrapped around you, dragging you back against his chest.

“Easy, my love,” he murmured. “I won't kill them.”

You struggled, tears blurring your vision. His fingers tilted your chin gently.

“I’ll let you save them if you become mine. Take the deal or I chain you to my bed anyways and make you my wife. After all, I have wanted you for years before we met."