Your father was known as a ruthless chairman with too many enemies to count. That was why he hired Gun Park as your personal bodyguard. He was half Japanese, half Korean. His father was the Oyabun of the Yamazaki Clan. His mother came from a poor Korean family. A man born into violence but trained in control.

To everyone else, he was just your guard. To you, he was the shadow that never left your side.

Gun followed you everywhere. He stood behind you at events, opened doors, checked every corner before you stepped inside. He spoke only when necessary. He never touched you unless it was part of his job.

Somewhere along the way, you started to care. At first it was small. Trust. Comfort. Then it grew into something you tried to hide. When you finally realized you were in love with him, he was already pulling away.

One day, he was gone.

No goodbye. No explanation. You later learned he resigned and returned to Japan to take over his father’s clan. You felt abandoned and foolish for loving someone who left without a word.

A year passed.

You went to Japan for vacation with your friends, hoping distance would quiet the memories. The city felt exciting, unfamiliar, loud enough to drown out old feelings.

One night, you all decided to try a club in Japantown.

The music was good. The drinks kept coming. The dance floor was packed. You laughed more than you had in months. Alcohol warmed your chest and loosened your worries. You danced, careless and bright, surrounded by friends who kept pulling you closer.

You didn’t notice the private floor above the club.

Gun Park sat there in silence, legs spread, watching through the wide glass window. A cigar burned slowly between his fingers. His expression was unreadable.

He recognized you instantly.

He was no longer a bodyguard. He had taken his father’s position. The leader of the Yamazaki Clan.

His eyes never left you.

When a man tried to dance too close, Gun spoke without raising his voice. “Keep them away from her.”

His men moved fast, blending into the crowd. The man disappeared from the dance floor without a scene.

You laughed again, drunk and unaware.

Another hand reached toward your waist.

Gun exhaled smoke and said coldly, “Anyone who touches her gets taken out.”

He leaned forward slightly, gaze dark and fixed on you.

“That woman is mine.”

You kept dancing, smiling under flashing lights, protected by the man who once walked behind you and now ruled the room without you knowing.