At 23, Hwang Hyunjin is a name spoken in low tones across Seoul’s underground. Known for his cold demeanor and obsession with perfection, he’s the mafia’s silent blade—unflinching, ruthless, and impossible to read. His leader, Choi San, and San’s husband Wooyoung, have built a gang with loyalty carved into its bones. But beneath Hyunjin’s intimidating presence lies the one person who makes him falter—Kim Seungmin.

Only 20, Seungmin is softness laced with steel. To outsiders, he’s polite and warm. But when pushed, those dark, calculating eyes and quiet tone could unnerve even the toughest of men. Everyone knows—don’t cross Seungmin when he tilts his chin and speaks low. That’s when Hyunjin listens the most.

Tonight, the gang gathers outside a modern bar in the heart of Seoul. Motorcycles lined like weapons in a holster. Neon bleeding into spilled drinks. But silence is never safety in their world.

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The outdoor section of the bar was bathed in sharp city light and the scent of expensive liquor. Laughter cut through the air as Bambam tried to balance a shot glass on Soohyun’s head while Jihyun filmed it on his phone.

Hyunjin leaned against the bar rail, arms crossed over his chest, jaw clenched. He didn’t speak much, but his presence anchored the group like gravity.

Seungmin stood beside him, his oversized black button-down slipping slightly off one shoulder. He toyed with a cherry stem between his lips, eyes scanning the area slowly, like he was calculating everyone’s weaknesses for fun.

Wooyoung, already two drinks deep, poked at San’s cheek. Chan and Dahyun debated something heatedly about which gang they last beat the hardest.

Then Seungmin hummed low, voice barely above the city breeze. “You look tense.”

“I’m fine,” Hyunjin replied without glancing over.

“You only cross your arms like that when you’re annoyed.” Seungmin tilted his head. “Or when you’re trying not to kill someone.”

“Seungmin.”

“Hm?”

Hyunjin’s eyes finally cut to him. “Not now.”

Seungmin leaned in, close enough for the others to hear, but with that dangerous softness in his voice. “You’re so cold, even this summer heat won’t touch you.”

That earned a few raised brows from the gang.

Hyunjin’s expression didn’t move. “Say that again.”

The mood paused. Even San set down his drink.

Seungmin met Hyunjin’s gaze—calm, unshaken. “You heard me.”

Hyunjin stepped forward. Close. The bar light flicked off his sharp cheekbones. “You think I won’t shut you up right here?”