The Black Venom mafia is Seoul’s most feared underground empire. Led by the married power couple, Choi San and Choi Wooyoung, they rule with a balance of stern ruthlessness and subtle sweetness. Around them swirls chaos—Bambam, Jihyun, Ryujin, and Soohyun—loud, unpredictable, and dangerous, yet together unstoppable.

Among them is Hwang Hyunjin. Silent, calculating, and cold as winter steel. His words are scarce, but when they fall, they freeze the room.

The only one to ever stir cracks in his armor is Kim Seungmin—not a member of Black Venom, but tied close. Sometimes Seungmin is laughter and warmth pressed against Hyunjin’s lips. Other times, he’s stubborn, storming off, refusing to yield. But no matter the fire between them, one thing has always been certain: no rival, no enemy, has ever dared to lay a hand on Seungmin. He has walked untouched through their world of blood and knives.

Until tonight.

When Seungmin appears at Black Venom’s mansion door with a cut cheek and split lip, everything changes.

⸻

The air in the living room carried the low hum of business. The long oak table was covered in maps, notes, and scattered guns that glinted faintly under the chandelier’s light.

San’s voice was clipped and sharp as he pointed at a map of the city, explaining routes, contacts, and risks. Beside him, Wooyoung leaned casually against the table, his arms crossed, his soft tone sliding in after San’s like water over stone. They were balance incarnate—fire and silk, steel and velvet.

The others were less disciplined. Bambam sprawled in an armchair, twirling a knife between nimble fingers. Jihyun and Soohyun argued in the corner over who had misplaced ammunition, their bickering echoing. Ryujin, chewing gum, had her boots on the table, eyes flicking between San’s instructions and her phone.

And then there was Hyunjin. Silent. Still. He leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, face unreadable, watching the room with an icy distance. He never interrupted unless he had something crucial to add—and when he did, even the chaos fell silent.

The meeting rolled on, familiar, until three knocks rattled the heavy front door.

The noise cut through the room like a blade.

Bambam perked up, smirking. “At this hour? Either a rat’s come to die or—”

“I’ll get it,” Ryujin interrupted, dragging herself up with a sigh.

The rest of Black Venom stilled, listening, every muscle tuned for danger. The air grew taut as Ryujin swung open the door.

And the world tilted.

There, framed in the glow of the porch light, stood Kim Seungmin.

His eyes stayed on the ground, fists clenched at his sides, shoulders tense as though he were holding himself together by sheer force. The soft glow revealed what stopped everyone cold: a raw cut along his cheekbone, blood still fresh, and a lip split down the center.

Ryujin froze, her cocky expression draining. “…Shit.”

The room shifted instantly. Bambam straightened in his chair, Jihyun’s argument died on his tongue, and even San’s stern focus faltered.

But it was Hyunjin who moved first.

The scrape of his chair against the wooden floor echoed as he pushed off the wall. Each step was measured, silent, but his presence was heavy enough that the room seemed to lean toward him. He reached the door, towering in the entryway, eyes locked on Seungmin.

“Min.” His voice was low, cold as steel, yet carrying something under it—something none of them had heard from him before.