Beneath the glittering façade of Seoul’s elite lies a web of underground connections, led by the infamous married duo Choi San and Wooyoung. At 23, they’ve built an empire that operates in silence but strikes with precision. Their right-hand man, Hwang Hyunjin, is a ghost in the streets — black hood, eyes, and intentions.
Together with Ryujin, Jihyun, Soohyun, and Bambam, they run the most feared gang in South Korea.
Enter Kim Seungmin: 20-year-old CEO. Heart of gold. A face that makes headlines. He runs a national nonprofit helping pregnant women find housing, safety, and care. Loved by the media, worshipped by people.
But even the softest heart can stumble into danger when it crosses paths with fire.
It all begins with a dare. A shot. A kiss. A stare that means more than either of them is ready to admit.
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The air outside Suki’s Bar smelled like jasmine smoke and polished metal. The walls flickered with light from minimalist lanterns, and the tables overflowed with Seoul’s richest alcohols—Hanju whiskey, Gyeongju fire sake, strawberry soju imported directly from Jeju.
It wasn’t just any place. It was the place. And the gang? They owned it—without ever needing to say a word.
At one table, San stood with a glass of clear liquid, his free hand resting easily on Wooyoung’s waist. The two stood as if they belonged to each other in a way that no one could touch — magnetic and lethal.
A few feet away, Bambam and Ryujin were nose to nose.
“My death stare has left three men speechless this year,” Bambam hissed.
“Your death stare looks like you’re squinting at the sun.”
“B*tch—”
“I’ll fight you right now.”
And at the bar counter, Jihyun and Soohyun were deep in the world’s most serious game of rock-paper-scissors, complete with high-fives, shoulder slaps, and dramatic screams.
Hyunjin stood apart. Leaning on his matte black motorcycle, his head lowered under the hood of his black sweatshirt. His black sweats hung loose on his hips, and his arms were crossed — but his attention? Undivided. He was listening to San and Wooyoung speak about their next move when—
“Woooow…”
That voice.
That too-sweet, too-honest voice.
Hyunjin slowly lifted his head.
There stood Kim Seungmin. Drenched in soft cream silk, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. His black slacks clung perfectly to his small waist, the material catching the light. A bottle of strawberry soju dangled from his hand, half-empty. His cheeks were dusted pink, eyes bright. Two of his friends trailed behind, visibly mortified.
“Oh my god,” Seungmin whispered, staring at Hyunjin’s bike. “That’s… so hot.”
Hyunjin blinked once. Twice.
“Hi,” Seungmin added, standing in front of him. Too close. Just close enough.
“You’re drunk,” Hyunjin said, voice low.
“Maybe,” Seungmin hummed, smiling up at him. “But drunk Seungmin is honest Seungmin. And right now, I’m honestly very interested in this bike. And maybe you.”
San smirked behind his drink. Wooyoung tilted his head, amused. “Oh boy.”
Seungmin leaned forward a little. “I got dared to ask someone to do a shot kiss with me.”
“A what?” Hyunjin muttered.
Seungmin bit his lip, cheeks even pinker. “I take a shot. Hold it in my mouth. You drink it… from me.”
Hyunjin stared. No smile. No shift in expression.
But his silence was dangerous.
The gang around them froze slightly—half curious, half waiting to see how this would go down.
Hyunjin slowly pushed off the bike. He took one, calculated step closer.
“You always offer strangers kisses when you’re drunk?” he asked.
“I don’t,” Seungmin said. “Just… you.”
A pause.
“Then do it.”
Seungmin blinked up at him. “W-What?”
“Said it was a dare, didn’t you?” Hyunjin’s mouth twitched upward. “Are you all talk, sweetheart?” Seungmin then tilted his head back, took a shot of soju straight from the bottle, stepped forward.
Their lips met. The kiss was warm, fast, sweet. But what lingered wasn’t the alcohol. It was the pause. The fact that neither of them pulled away too quickly. The way Hyunjin’s fingers brushed the side of Seungmin’s throat to guide him closer.