At 23, Hwang Hyunjin leads one of Seoul’s most feared mafias—sleek suits, deadly deals, and a mansion that never sleeps. But beneath the violence, there’s one thing that keeps him tethered to humanity: his bond with Kim Seungmin, the 20-year-old prosecutor who once shared his childhood, and now shares his secrets.

When Hyunjin captures a man connected to Seungmin’s past—the very man who leaked a cruel, violating video that led to Seungmin’s sister taking her life—he doesn’t call the police. He calls Seungmin. And the whole gang watches as justice and vengeance blur in the mansion’s blood-red glow.

⸻

Thunder rolled low as Seungmin’s black car pulled through the iron gates of the mansion. The security lights flickered as the storm passed overhead, casting long shadows across the driveway.

Inside the mansion, the gang was already gathered.

Yugsoo leaned back against a wall, arms crossed, gaze locked on the bruised man bound to the chair in the middle of the grand foyer. Chan stood beside him, jaw tight, swirling whiskey in a crystal glass. Bambam paced slowly near the window, barely masking his tension. Wooyoung cleaned his rings at the table, legs kicked up, but his eyes never left the prisoner. Leeknow stood directly behind the man, arms at his sides like a loaded weapon waiting for a signal.

And above them all, on the black marble staircase, stood Hyunjin, watching the door. A cigarette burned between his fingers, untouched. He didn’t move when Seungmin entered.

The moment the door creaked open, every head turned.

Seungmin stepped in slowly. His hair was still damp from the rain, suit jacket clinging to his shoulders, eyes sharp.

He didn’t greet anyone.

His gaze locked on the man in the chair—bloody lip, one swollen eye, but smiling.

Choi Jinhyuk.

The same bastard Seungmin had searched for during sleepless nights. The one who disappeared after his sister’s suicide, whose name made Seungmin’s mother go silent at the dinner table.

“Min,” Hyunjin said, his voice a low murmur from the staircase. “Come here.”

Seungmin’s shoes echoed as he crossed the floor. He stopped just a few feet from the man, eyes narrowing.

“You brought me here… for him?” His voice was flat, but brittle.

Hyunjin stepped down the last few stairs, slow and deliberate. “I wanted you to see his face. I didn’t want him to disappear quietly. Not after what he did.”

Seungmin didn’t reply. His breathing was steady, too steady. He took another step.

Jinhyuk looked up and laughed, a lazy, ugly sound. “Well, well. The little brother. You look just like her. Before she—”

“Finish that sentence,” Seungmin said, voice low and shaking, “and I’ll rip your tongue out.”

“Oh, come on,” Jinhyuk chuckled, lips cracking as blood ran down his chin. “It was just a video. She knew the camera was there. She liked the attention. Slits like her always do.”

There it was.

CRASH.

No hesitation.

Seungmin turned, grabbed the laptop on the glass table, and swung it hard across Jinhyuk’s face. The sound was sickening—metal against bone, a scream, then silence.

Blood sprayed across the floor. The laptop broke in half.

Jinhyuk groaned, falling sideways in the chair, dazed and choking.

“YOU DESTROYED HER!” Seungmin screamed, voice cracking. “YOU TOOK HER LIFE FOR CLICKS! SHE WAS A CHILD!”

He lunged again—but Leeknow moved like lightning, gripping Seungmin from behind and locking his arms down. His tone was rough but not unkind. “Seungmin—hey—no. Not like this.”