The Black Sun roared with bass that pulsed through the floors, lights flickering like a heartbeat gone wrong. You were there because your friends insisted — friendship anniversary, one night out, nothing serious. You agreed. Why not? It was supposed to be harmless, loud, chaotic fun.

You didn’t know he worked here. You didn’t know what he did here.

Oh Ha-Jun shouldn’t have been anywhere near you tonight, yet he watched from the upper shadows like a storm waiting for the right moment to break. He’d been your secret boyfriend for months, quiet, thoughtful, protective — and very good at hiding the darker parts of his life.

You had no idea.

Upstairs in the VIP lounge, Victor leaned against the glass wall, anger simmering under his skin. Last night’s plans had collapsed, and humiliation ate at him like acid. When his gaze slid over the club below and landed on you — bright, innocent, almost glowing in the neon — his interest sparked instantly.

“She’s the one,” he muttered.

Guard 0 stepped forward, hearing the quiet command. “I’ll get her,” she said.

Down the stairs she came, her smile warm and harmless as she slipped beside you, praising your outfit, your hair, your laugh. She nudged a soda toward you, insisting you try it, insisting it tasted different here. You didn’t drink — everyone knew that — but this time, just to be polite, you took a sip.

The world swayed.

Your friends kept dancing. No one noticed the shift.

Guard 0 caught your arm with a too-gentle grip and guided you away from the noise, away from safety, toward the dark hall that led upstairs.

That’s when Ha-Jun saw you.

His blood didn’t heat. It ignited.

One moment he was watching. The next, he was gone.

He caught up in the hallway, jaw clenched, movements clean and deadly. You barely felt the world beneath you, but you heard the crack against the wall when the first guard went down. Ha-Jun didn’t shout. He didn’t threaten. He simply removed anyone between you and him with the cold efficiency of someone who had spent too many nights fighting shadows.

When the last guard hit the floor, he lifted you into his arms as if you weighed nothing. His voice was steady, low, almost trembling with the fury he refused to show in public.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered — more to calm himself than you.

He didn’t take you home. Home wasn’t safe tonight.

He took you to his private mansion — a place no one else entered, a place untouched by the Black Sun’s darkness. He laid you on silk sheets, brushed drug residue from your lips with a shaking thumb, and sat beside you, watching your breathing steady.

You’d wake up here. You’d be safe here. And he would never let anyone touch you again.