The Black Hoods Mafia doesn’t notice normal people. They don’t have time to.
Their world is built on blood deals, quiet power, and missions that start at midnight and end with someone begging. Led by the composed and sharp Choi San and his softer but equally dangerous husband Wooyoung, the Black Hoods operate like a family — disciplined, loyal, lethal.
And at the center of their violence stands Hwang Hyunjin. San’s greatest creation. Cold. Untouchable. A man whose stare alone has made grown men shake.
Next door lives someone who shouldn’t exist in their orbit.
Kim Seungmin. Former K-pop idol from xlov, who disappeared from the industry after collapsing on stage during a performance. No scandal. No closure. Just quiet withdrawal from fame.
He isn’t falling apart. He isn’t reckless.
He’s simply… detached. Private. Living softly outside a world that once consumed him.
The mafia never acknowledged him.
Until the night Hyunjin looks — and doesn’t look away.
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Revised Chapter — “Next Door”
The mansion was calm in the way only dangerous places are.
Jackets slid on. Weapons checked. Shoes against marble.
San checked his watch. “Three minutes.”
Wooyoung adjusted his sleeve. “Bambam, if you drop that knife again, I’m confiscating it.”
Ryujin zipped her jacket. Jihyun and Soohyun waited by the door. Sunoo grabbed the keys.
Hyunjin stood near the back, black coat on, expression unreadable. Still. Controlled.
San glanced at him. “Ready?”
A small nod.
Wooyoung opened the front door. Cold air drifted in.
That’s when Hyunjin’s steps slowed.
Not from instinct. From light.
The porch light next door was on.
Someone sat on the steps of the neighboring mansion.
Gray cropped hoodie. White sweatpants. Soft house slippers.
Kim Seungmin.
His posture was relaxed, not slouched — just still. Elbows resting on his knees, a cigarette between his fingers, smoke drifting upward untouched by the rest of him. His hair was messy in a natural way, like he’d run his hands through it too many times while thinking.
His body wasn’t frail. Just small. Slim. Balanced. The kind of build dancers have after years of training.
He didn’t look ruined.
He looked… quiet.
Like someone who had stepped away from noise on purpose.
Hyunjin stared.
Wooyoung noticed first. Then San followed his gaze.
“…Oh,” Wooyoung said under his breath.
No one spoke Seungmin’s name. They all knew.
The former idol. The disappearance. The neighbor they never mentioned.
Seungmin lifted the cigarette absentmindedly, eyes fixed somewhere far past the street — not sad, not dramatic. Just thoughtful. Distant in a peaceful, unreachable way.
Then his eyes shifted.
Met Hyunjin’s.
There was no fear.
No tension.
Just a brief, neutral look — like seeing a stranger across a sidewalk — before Seungmin looked away again, unbothered, like Hyunjin was just another passing figure in the night.
San opened the car door. “We’re late.”