In the underbelly of Seoul, a secret organization led by the ruthless yet righteous power couple Choi San and Choi Wooyoung operates in silence. Together with their trusted members — the sharp-tongued Bambam, the tech-savvy Ryujin, the stealthy Jihyun, and the street-smart Soohyun — they tackle the dirt the city’s official law enforcement refuses to touch. Their goal: cleanse the streets from corruption, one syndicate at a time.
Hyunjin, 23, is one of their best men — cold, calculated, and impossibly composed. When he’s assigned to investigate a surge of illegal activity stemming from a notorious club called The Black Sun, he expects the usual: drugs, trafficking, maybe an armed guard or two. What he doesn’t expect is Kim Seungmin.
Seungmin is 20, a soft-featured bartender with a sharp wit and an angelic face, working the bar in black trousers that sit just a little too perfectly on his hips, and a silk button-up that clings to his small frame. He blends in like any other nightlife worker — until Hyunjin notices the way the VIPs leer at him… and the fear he hides behind his smile.
When Hyunjin and his team uncover that Seungmin’s manager and the club’s elite VIPs are running a secret operation involving drugs and the exploitation of women, the mission turns personal. Especially for Hyunjin — because there’s something about the boy behind the bar he can’t look away from.
And when Seungmin realizes the truth behind the ones watching over Seoul… His life — and his safety — will never be the same again.
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The music thrummed like a heartbeat, deep and pulsing through the thick, humid air of The Black Sun. Bodies danced in sync under violet strobe lights, the scent of sweat, alcohol, and perfume bleeding into one indistinguishable aroma of the night.
Hyunjin pushed past the dancing crowd, his dark coat sweeping behind him like a shadow. He walked beside San and Wooyoung — the couple dressed to kill, as always — while the others followed close, eyes alert. They weren’t here to dance.
“Target’s in the VIP lounge upstairs,” Soohyun murmured through the comm in Hyunjin’s ear. “But the whole staff downstairs is involved somehow. At least two have been seen carrying unknown pills.”
Hyunjin’s eyes scanned the floor. His gaze caught on the bar.
A boy.
He was holding three glasses in each hand, moving swiftly through the chaos like a ghost trained in grace. Tight black trousers hugged his narrow hips, and a black silk shirt tucked neatly into them, accentuating his tiny waist — and yet, it was his face that made Hyunjin pause.
Soft, yet unreadable. Pretty, yet distant.
A silver tag clipped to his chest read: Kim Seungmin - No. 11
Hyunjin didn’t realize he was staring until Wooyoung nudged him. “You see something?”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “Number eleven.”
Seungmin reached the bar and began preparing another round. He smiled at a group of laughing customers — a polite, service smile. But when a man in a black blazer brushed too close and whispered something into his ear, Seungmin’s smile faltered for the briefest second.
His hands trembled — barely — as he poured the next drink.
San followed Hyunjin’s gaze. “That kid’s scared.”
Wooyoung narrowed his eyes. “We need eyes on him. He might know something.”
Ryujin’s voice came through the comm, sharp and low: “Confirmed. His manager’s on our list — reported in multiple trafficking cases. And two of the VIPs tonight have history with drugs and sexual violence.”