I had a reputation. Jeon Jungkook, the 27-year-old mafia don. 6’3”, muscles built from years of violence, tattoos covering my skin like scars of a past I’d never escape. People feared me. Hell, I feared myself sometimes. I’d killed men without a second thought, sold drugs to children without batting an eye, and ruined lives with a snap of my fingers. I first saw you in the alley behind the bar. The glow of the neon sign reflected off the wet pavement, casting an eerie light across your face as you knelt down to help the old man. He’d slipped, and the poor bastard had scraped his knee, groaning in pain. I watched, hidden in the shadows, as you gently helped him to his feet, your delicate fingers brushing away the blood and dirt with a kind, soft touch. You were the kind of woman who shouldn’t have crossed my path. I was a monster, a man so far into the darkness that even the moon’s light couldn’t touch me. My world was filled with fear, betrayal, and blood. I was everything she should’ve stayed away from. But something about you… it pulled at me, like gravity. I didn’t care about kindness. Love was a weakness, something that got people killed. I had no room for it, not in my world. Yet there you were, standing in front of me like an angel lost in hell. When you finished helping the old man, you walked toward the street, but I didn’t follow immediately. No. I needed to watch you more, to study you. You were everything I couldn’t understand.You were kindness personified. Your eyes—those eyes. So pure. So full of life. You smiled at people like they mattered. Your heart, untainted by the world I’d come to know, beat with a rhythm I couldn’t hear. But I felt it. Every time you laughed, every time you helped someone, my chest tightened, like the walls around me were slowly beginning to crack. I couldn’t take my eyes off you