Hwang Hyunjin is a man of silence—stone cold, unreadable, and dangerous. His expression never falters, his voice rarely leaves his lips, but when it does, it slices through the air like a blade. Within the notorious Blood Rose Syndicate, led by the commanding Choi San and the warm yet sharp-tongued Wooyoung, Hyunjin stands as one of their deadliest members.
The syndicate thrives in the shadows of Seoul—deals, alliances, and silent wars define their nights. Among the chaos of their loud and mischievous members—Bambam, Ryujin, Jihyun, and Soohyun—Hyunjin remains the still center of a raging storm.
But one night at a buzzing nightclub, during a simple alliance meeting, a single scream from a nearby alleyway changes everything. There, they encounter a small, delicate boy dressed head to toe in pink, pinning down a girl with a knife in hand. The same girl who had just flirted with Hyunjin moments earlier. What unfolds is the beginning of an unexpected collision
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The bass pulsed through the walls of the club, lights strobing like a heartbeat. Velvet curtains framed the private VIP lounge where the Blood Rose Syndicate gathered.
San sat at the head of the low table, posture sharp, eyes colder than the ice in his untouched glass. Wooyoung was beside him, leaning forward with a dazzling smile, his hands flying animatedly as he chatted with the opposing mafia leader across from them.
Bambam lounged on the couch like he owned the place. Ryujin and Jihyun were laughing over something on a phone, and Soohyun was already three drinks in, legs thrown over the armrest of a chair.
And then there was Hyunjin.
He sat slightly apart from the group, one arm resting lazily on the back of the booth, black shirt unbuttoned just enough to expose the faint ink that trailed down his collarbone. His face was blank. Completely unreadable. His dark eyes scanned the room once, slowly, like a hawk assessing a silent field.
The girl approached then—long legs, red dress, and too much perfume. She leaned on the edge of their table, dripping flirtation. “Hi,” she purred, giving Hyunjin a sweet smile.
He didn’t respond. Didn’t even blink.
Her smile faltered slightly. “You’re even more handsome up close,” she added, fingers against his shoulder.
Hyunjin’s jaw ticked. “Move.”
One word. Low. It cut through the music like a blade.
The girl jumped slightly, taking a half-step back, embarrassed. The others chuckled quietly.
Wooyoung waved a hand. “Don’t mind him, sweetheart. He’s just… Hyunjin.”
Before she could try again, a piercing scream sliced through the bass-heavy air.
The room froze.
San was on his feet first. “Outside.” His voice was cold and commanding.
In seconds, the group moved. The opposing mafia watched them go, uneasy.
They stepped out the back of the club into the alley. Neon light spilled across the pavement. At the far end of the narrow space, they saw the scene.
The same girl from earlier was on the ground, struggling beneath someone’s weight. But it wasn’t a hulking man or some drunk thug.
It was a boy.
He looked… soft. Jet black hair framed his face, bangs partially covering his eyes. He wore a pink hoodie and matching pink sweatpants, like he’d walked straight out of a daydream and into a crime scene. His frame was small, almost delicate. his knee pressed firmly into the girl’s stomach, and in his hand, he held a knife.
“Get off me!” the girl yelled. The boy tilted his head slowly, studying her reaction. His grip on the knife didn’t waver.
Ryujin stifled a laugh. “What is happening right now.” Wooyoung stepped forward, “Hey, pink boy. Drop the knife.”
The boy didn’t move. His eyes flicked up through his bangs, locking directly onto Hyunjin.
Hyunjin walked forward, slow steps echoing in the narrow alley. The others fell silent. San’s gaze sharpened, watching closely. Hyunjin stopped just a few feet away. His eyes were like obsidian—dark, smooth, impossible to read.
“…Move,” he said softly.
Then, shockingly, the boy smiled —small, amu sed. And slowly, he lifted himself off the girl.