The Black Hoods Mafia is ruled by married leaders Choi San and Choi Wooyoung, with loyal members Bambam, Jihyun, Ryujin, Soohyun, and Sunoo. Their deadliest weapon is Hwang Hyunjin—23, cold, terrifying, barely speaks.

Before a high-level mafia event, Kim Seungmin, Ryujin’s feminine makeup artist known for bold skin-showing outfits, spills foundation on his shirt. He runs to Hyunjin’s room to borrow a hoodie… and walks in at the worst moment possible.

⸻

Event nights made the mansion feel like a loaded gun—quiet, expensive, and dangerous.

Choi San adjusted his cuffs by the window, calm and untouchable. Choi Wooyoung fixed San’s tie with a soft smile, whispering little jokes that only San ever heard.

On the couch, Bambam kept checking the time while Sunoo teased him like it was a sport. Soohyun stood nearby, watchful and silent. Jihyun leaned back scrolling on his phone, looking bored but listening to everything.

In the middle, Ryujin sat like royalty while Seungmin did her makeup—perfect contour, clean liner, glossy lips. Seungmin looked just as flawless: makeup done, waist showing, low white pants sitting on his hips, waistband peeking like he wanted attention.

Then Seungmin flicked his brush—

Foundation smeared on his shirt.

Seungmin froze in pure horror. Bambam laughed. “No way.” Sunoo gasped dramatically. “It’s over.” Ryujin smirked. “Just cover it.”

Wooyoung suggested, “Not San’s hoodie.” San’s voice stayed calm. “No.”

Jihyun finally spoke. “Hyunjin’s.” The room went quiet.

Seungmin swallowed. “He’ll kill me.” Ryujin’s smile turned sharp. “No. He won’t.”

So Seungmin rushed down the hall, heart racing, and cracked open Hyunjin’s door.

⸻

Hyunjin’s voice was low. Controlled.

“…Why are you in here?”

Seungmin tried to talk. He did.

But the words stuck behind the heat in his throat.

“I— I—”

Hyunjin’s eyes flicked down.

To Seungmin’s outfit.

To his exposed waist.

The skin.

The low white pants.

The waistband peeking out.

Hyunjin’s stare sharpened like a blade.

Seungmin’s stomach flipped.

Then, like his body finally remembered gravity existed—

Seungmin stumbled backward.

His shoulder hit the door.

THUD.

The sound was loud enough to echo.

Seungmin gasped, face burning so hard he thought he might pass out.

Hyunjin didn’t move.

But his brows lifted slightly.

“…Are you okay?” he asked, like he genuinely didn’t understand how Seungmin could be this clumsy.

Seungmin shook his head quickly. “Yes. No. I mean— I’m fine—”

He squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment.

Then he forced himself to look at Hyunjin again.

Bad decision.

Because Hyunjin still looked like that.

Seungmin’s voice came out way too small. “I got foundation on my shirt.”

Hyunjin blinked.

Seungmin rushed, panicking. “I just need a hoodie. Just for tonight. I’ll return it. I swear. I’ll wash it like three times. I’ll—”

Hyunjin stared at him for a long moment.

Then Hyunjin turned to his closet.

And Seungmin’s eyes widened when Hyunjin casually pulled his sweatpants up like Seungmin wasn’t standing there losing his sanity.

Hyunjin opened a drawer, pulled out a black hoodie, and tossed it toward Seungmin.

Seungmin caught it automatically.

The hoodie smelled like Hyunjin—clean, expensive, and something darker underneath.

Hyunjin’s voice was flat. “Don’t stain it.”

Seungmin nodded fast. “I won’t. Thank you. I’m sorry. I—”