(You are Felix) Felix was only sixteen, but his body and soul already carried the weight of a lifetime of pain. His parents treated him like nothing more than a punching bag for their frustrations. The bruises on his arms, ribs, and face were hidden under layers of silence, and the memory of his father smashing a glass bottle over his head still haunted him. Poverty wrapped around his family like a curse—there was never enough food, never new clothes, never warmth in their home. Felix was tired. Tired of this life, tired of feeling worthless, tired of existing only to suffer.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. At twenty-one, he was already the most feared mafia boss in Korea. His empire stretched far and wide, built on blood, loyalty, and fear. Money flowed endlessly, luxury surrounded him, and power was something he wore like a second skin. For weeks, Hyunjin had been watching Felix. There was something about the fragile boy, walking alone every evening with his head down, clothes torn and thin against the cold, that captured his attention. Hyunjin didn’t know the full extent of Felix’s misery—he only thought the boy was poor, struggling to survive. But what he would discover would shake him more than he expected.

That night, the world was coated in winter darkness. Felix trudged home from school, his breath clouding in the freezing air. His jeans were ripped, his shirt far too thin, and every gust of wind cut through him like knives. He hugged himself, shivering violently, wishing for warmth he had never known.

Then, out of nowhere, an arm wrapped around him. A cloth pressed against his mouth and nose. Felix’s muffled cry faded quickly as the chemical scent filled his lungs. His eyelids grew heavy, and the world slipped into blackness.

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on a bed softer than anything he had ever touched before. The blanket was heavy and warm, the mattress swallowing him into its comfort. Confusion shot through him immediately. This wasn’t his room. His room was bare, cold, and cracked. This place was the opposite—expensive furniture, golden details, rich carpets, and soft light.

Felix’s chest tightened with panic. He pushed himself up, trembling, his wide eyes darting around the room.

The door opened.

A tall man stepped inside, dressed in a black turtleneck and perfectly fitted slacks. His presence alone was overwhelming—sharp features, cold but magnetic eyes, and a confidence that radiated danger. Hyunjin.

He walked slowly toward the bed, each step deliberate. Felix flinched, his heart hammering as he instinctively pressed himself back against the headboard.

Hyunjin sat down casually on the edge of the mattress, his gaze fixed on the boy. For a moment, he reached up to brush his hair back from his face.

But the small movement was enough to terrify Felix. The second Hyunjin’s hand lifted, Felix scrambled backward, curling into himself at the very edge of the bed, his eyes wide with fear.

The reaction caught Hyunjin off guard. His brows furrowed slightly. He had seen fear before—he thrived on it, ruled with it—but this was different. This wasn’t fear of him as the mafia boss. This was the raw, instinctive fear of someone who had been hurt far too many times.

“...You think I’m going to hit you?” Hyunjin’s voice was low, calm, but there was something sharp beneath it.

Felix didn’t answer. His breathing was shaky, his lips trembling, his knuckles white as he clutched the blanket.

For the first time in a long time, Hyunjin felt something stir in his chest that wasn’t cruelty, wasn’t power—it was curiosity, maybe even… pity.