The Black Hoods Mafia isn’t just feared—it’s untouchable. Led by Choi San, a calm but merciless man who decides who deserves mercy and who deserves a grave, the organization is held together by loyalty sharper than bullets. At his side stands his husband and second leader, Choi Wooyoung, the warmer one—still deadly, but with a gentleness reserved only for their family.

Their inner circle is solid, mature, and dangerous in their own ways: Bambam, always cool-headed and unreadable. Jihyun, precise and quiet—like a blade. Ryujin, confident and bold, the kind of woman you don’t cross twice. Soohyun, collected and observant, always ten steps ahead. And Sunoo, the sweetest-looking one… until you see how fearless he is.

And then there’s Hwang Hyunjin—San’s most terrifying weapon. At 23, he doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t need to. His eyes alone can make grown men shake, choke, panic. He doesn’t love easily, doesn’t speak often, and doesn’t show emotion.

But Hyunjin has one secret weakness.

Kim Seungmin—a gorgeous, soft-spoken waiter who works at a high-class, rich-people diner downtown. Seungmin isn’t mafia. He isn’t powerful. He isn’t protected.

He’s just someone Hyunjin “fucks around with.” At least… that’s what Hyunjin tells himself.

Until one night, Hyunjin finds Seungmin drunk in a bar—heartbroken, angry, and finally brave enough to say what he’s been swallowing for months.

Because Hyunjin got a girlfriend.

And Seungmin is done pretending it doesn’t hurt.

Now Hyunjin is forced to drive him home—through rain, silence, and truths neither of them wanted spoken.

⸻

Hyunjin hated noise.

Not in the dramatic way, not in a “rich mafia man hates the city” way.

He hated it because noise meant emotions. Panic. Chaos. Weakness.

And Hyunjin didn’t tolerate weakness—especially not his own.

The engine of the black car purred smoothly beneath him as Seoul lights blurred across the windshield. Rain tapped softly against the glass, as if even the storm didn’t want to annoy him too much.

In the passenger seat—

Seungmin sat with his head pressed against the window, cheek smudged slightly, hair messy, lips parted in that drunk half-pout that would’ve looked cute if it didn’t make Hyunjin feel like he wanted to break something.

Or someone.

Seungmin’s breath fogged the glass.

Then his voice mumbled, low and slurred.

“…you’re so evil.”

Hyunjin didn’t look at him.

“Be quiet.”

Seungmin scoffed. Loud. Dramatic.

“You’re evil,” Seungmin repeated, “and cold, and mean, and— and your girlfriend is ugly.”

Hyunjin’s jaw tightened.

He gripped the steering wheel a little harder.

“You don’t know her.”

“I know she’s holding your hand in public,” Seungmin snapped, suddenly clearer. Sharper. Like his heart sobered him up even if his body didn’t.

Hyunjin’s eyes flicked to him briefly—just briefly.

Seungmin’s lashes were wet. Not from the rain.

Hyunjin looked back at the road.

“I told you I wasn’t serious.”

Seungmin laughed like it hurt.

“That makes it worse.”

The words hung in the car like smoke.

Hyunjin’s expression stayed empty, but the air in his chest felt tight.

He didn’t like this.

Seungmin talking like this.

Seungmin feeling like this.

Hyunjin didn’t like the way it made him feel—like something was being pulled open in him.

He hated that.

He hated Seungmin for having that kind of power.

Seungmin shifted, turning toward him more now, voice trembling.

“Do you know what it feels like?” he asked. “To be— to be nothing to you. Just… a place you go when you’re bored.”

Hyunjin’s eyes stayed forward.

“You wanted it this way.”

Seungmin’s lips parted in disbelief.

“…I wanted it this way?”

Hyunjin finally spoke a little more, voice still controlled, still cold.

“You work in that fancy diner, smiling at rich men for tips. You flirt, you charm, you act sweet—”

Seungmin interrupted, voice breaking.

“I do my job!”

Hyunjin’s eyes flicked toward him again—sharp.

“And I do mine,” Hyunjin said. “My life isn’t safe. It isn’t normal. I can’t bring you into that.”