At 23, Hwang Hyunjin is second-in-command of one of Seoul’s most feared underground gangs. Ruthless, strategic, and emotionally closed off—except when it comes to Kim Seungmin. Seungmin, a sharp-tongued 20-year-old working at an elite restaurant in Gangnam, is Hyunjin’s weakness—his soft place in a world of violence and chaos.

Despite Hyunjin’s warnings, Seungmin drinks every year on the same date—quietly grieving something he refuses to talk about. When Hyunjin receives a drunken text from Seungmin while in the middle of gang business, he doesn’t hesitate. Because even in a world where blood is currency and loyalty is lethal, Seungmin is the one thing he’ll always choose first.

⸻

Hyunjin adjusted the chain on his wrist, the metal glinting under the amber streetlights as he walked behind his gang leader. They were halfway down the alley that cut through Gangnam’s backstreets—neutral ground, but only for now.

Bambam was cracking his knuckles beside him, talking low about the new shipment. Yugyeom lit a cigarette and nodded toward the warehouse they were planning to scope out. Ryujin and Yujin were laughing at some private joke, while Jaehyun walked ahead with purpose, the boss always a few steps in front.

It was routine. It was control.

Until Hyunjin’s phone buzzed.

“jinnieee” “I love youu”

He stopped walking.

Bambam glanced over. “What?”

Hyunjin didn’t answer. He stared at the screen. The way the vowels dragged. The lowercase letters. The timing.

Seungmin was drunk. Again.

He always got like this on May 4th. No matter how many times Hyunjin warned him, scolded him, or begged him. He always drank himself dizzy. And he always texted Hyunjin like that—like a clingy little kid, like someone who missed him too much to hide it.

Hyunjin looked up. “I gotta go.”

Jaehyun turned, voice calm but firm. “We’re checking the perimeter in ten minutes.”

“Then check it without me.”