The underground casino was buzzing — the kind of buzz that came from too much smoke, too much ego, and way too many guns hidden under tailored coats. Red neon lights flickered against the steel walls of the massive event hall. Darts pierced dartboards with deadly precision. Poker chips clinked like coins at war. Women in velvet dresses flirted with knives behind their backs. This was no ordinary gathering — it was a convergence of Korea’s most notorious mafia families.

And in the center of it all, seated at the VIP table with a glass of whiskey in his hand and a blank expression etched on his face, was Hwang Hyunjin, 23 years old, second-in-command of the Black Serpent Syndicate. His jet-black suit fit like sin, and his fingers — decorated in silver rings — tapped idly on the table. He wasn’t interested in the drinks, or the games, or even the stares. Not until he walked in.

Kim Seungmin.

The boss’s son.

Hyunjin’s eyes slid toward the main entrance the moment the large doors parted. The crowd didn’t stop — but he did. Time didn’t freeze, but it damn sure slowed.

Seungmin walked beside his older sister, both of them clearly annoyed to be there, though Seungmin wore it differently. He looked… cold. Dressed in a fitted blazer with a crest embroidered on the chest, his lips in a soft pout and jawline too sharp for someone so young. His skin glowed under the purples and blues of the neon haze. He had the air of someone who had been forced into a world he didn’t choose — but still knew how to wear it like a prince.

Hyunjin tilted his head, amused.

“Damn. The old man’s blood really cooked up a masterpiece.”

The boss — Chairman Kim — was laughing over a cigar with a rival capo, not paying attention to his son. Good. That gave Hyunjin room to watch.

“You okay, Hwang?” his right-hand man asked, but Hyunjin didn’t respond. He leaned back in his chair, legs spread, eyes still locked on the boy who just unknowingly stepped into the lion’s mouth.

He hadn’t even spoken to Seungmin yet, and already he was fantasizing.

“That pout…” he muttered under his breath, letting his tongue press to the inside of his cheek. “Bet he tastes like arrogance and cherry lip balm.”

Suddenly, Seungmin turned his head. Just a little. Their eyes met.

Hyunjin didn’t look away. Not even once.

And Seungmin? He held that gaze — for three seconds — before blinking and turning back toward his sister.