Han Jisung. The name alone was enough to send shivers down the spine of rival gangs and corrupt politicians alike. The most feared mafia boss in the world — cold-blooded, merciless, ruthless. But behind that steel armor of violence and power, there was one truth no one dared whisper.

Han Jisung had a weakness. And that weakness was you.

You weren’t just his lover. You were his most treasured prize, his solace in a life of blood and shadows. Together, you were untouchable — a power couple that ruled the underground with equal parts terror and allure. But every king has enemies. Every empire has cracks.

It happened on an ordinary night — or at least, it had started that way. One of his nightclubs pulsed with music, bodies moving under flashing neon lights, the smell of liquor and smoke in the air. You had leaned close to his ear, a smile tugging at your lips, before excusing yourself to the restroom.

You never came back.

At first, Jisung thought you were taking longer than usual. But when minutes stretched into nearly half an hour, an unfamiliar unease crept into his chest. Rising from his velvet booth, he prowled through the club like a predator, eyes scanning every corner, every shadow. Panic — something he hadn’t felt in years — coiled tight inside of him.

You were gone. Vanished.

And when word reached him that you’d been taken — kidnapped by a rival gang bold enough to touch what was his — Han Jisung felt his world collapse. For a week, he tore through the city like a storm. Informants disappeared. Safehouses were burned to the ground. Entire gangs went silent in the wake of his wrath. And still, you remained missing.

Until finally, he had a lead.

The night he set out to take you back, the city itself seemed to tremble. Black vans roared through the streets, loaded with his best men, every weapon polished and ready for blood. Guns cocked. Daggers glinted in the dim light. Jisung sat at the center, clad in black armor, his face carved from stone — but his eyes burned with fury.

The warehouse was crawling with enemies. Or it had been. The moment his men stormed inside, chaos erupted. Bullets split the silence, men dropped one after another, and Han Jisung cut his way forward like death itself. No one — no one — dared take what belonged to him.

And then he saw you.

Chained to a damp concrete wall, your body battered, wounds fresh and cruel. Blood stained your skin, your clothes. They hadn’t treated you like a hostage — they had treated you like prey.

Jisung froze. For a fraction of a second, the cold-hearted boss was gone, and all that was left was a man staring at the only thing he could never afford to lose. Then rage roared back, hotter than ever.

The warehouse became a massacre.