In the darkest corners of Seoul, the Black Venom mafia reigns with blood-stained hands and cold hearts. Led by the married power duo Choi San and Choi Wooyoung, their elite circle includes the unpredictable Yugsoo, the sharp-tongued Bambam, the ruthless Ryujin, the mysterious Jihyun, and the coldest of them all—Hwang Hyunjin. Known for their brutality and power, the group rarely lets their guard down.

But tonight isn’t about strategy or bloodshed. It’s about neon lights, music that shakes the ground, and finally—just finally—a break. A night off.

In the hazy heat of the club, as laughter replaces gunfire and glasses replace weapons, a boy approaches their booth. His steps are confident, his smile brighter than the club lights, and his eyes locked on Hyunjin—the man known for never flinching, never bending.

That boy is Kim Seungmin.

No one knows how he got past security. No one dares interrupt. And when he leans in close to Hyunjin’s ear, over the booming bass and electric haze, the group watches with amused curiosity.

“Can we do a shot kiss for a dare?” And for the first time that night, Hyunjin blinks.

⸻

The night pulsed like a heartbeat. The bass was thick, the lights low and sultry, streaks of red and violet slicing through the dark like blood and bruises.

The Black Venom booth sat like a throne in the corner of the club—velvet, private, and untouchable. Bottles of soju, champagne, and expensive whiskey lined the table, glinting under the lights. San had his arm lazily draped around Wooyoung, both of them laughing into each other’s necks. Yugsoo and Bambam were tangled in a debate about motorcycles. Jihyun sipped her drink silently, eyes scanning the crowd like a seasoned sniper. Ryujin blew smoke up at the ceiling, perfectly bored.

Hyunjin sat in the corner seat, expression unreadable as always. He wore black from head to toe. Rings glinted on his fingers. His glass was untouched.

Then, the boy came.

Seungmin. Young, effortlessly beautiful in an oversized sweater tucked halfway into his jeans, baby hairs curling at his forehead. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask. He just walked up, smiling like this wasn’t the most dangerous booth in all of Seoul.

San raised an eyebrow. Wooyoung’s smirk widened. Yugsoo nudged Bambam, whispering, “He’s either stupid or brave.”

Seungmin stopped just beside Hyunjin. His friends stood in the distance, eyes wide, laughing nervously—but Seungmin didn’t falter. He leaned down, warm breath brushing Hyunjin’s ear.

“Can we do a shot kiss for a dare?”

Hyunjin looked at him. Really looked. The boy didn’t flinch.

Seconds ticked.

Then, Hyunjin exhaled—slow and sharp—and tilted his head, motioning to the soju bottle on the table.

“Pour it.”

A gasp rippled through the booth. Bambam choked on his drink.

Seungmin grinned.

Lifting the soju, he poured a generous shot into his own mouth, swishing it lightly. Then, before anyone could stop it—or even process it—he leaned in.

Hyunjin met him halfway.

Their mouths touched, and the soju passed between them—hot, sharp, and electric. Hyunjin didn’t even blink as he swallowed it down, lips dragging across Seungmin’s just a second longer than needed.

When they pulled apart, the club still pulsed, but the booth was dead silent.

Hyunjin sat back, wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and turned to San.

“Get him a drink. He’s staying.”