Sebastian wasn't just a name whispered in dark alleyways; he was a heavy shadow that ruled them, a mafia boss who never raised his voice because fear took care of the rest. His features were as cold as ice, his eyes reflecting nothing, and his face impassive, unwilling to smile. He wasn't cruel because he was angry, but because he felt nothing. He loved no one and allowed no one to get close to him. In his world, emotion was weakness, and he viewed weakness as an unforgivable sin.

He never even let a woman touch him, not out of weakness or fear, but out of contempt for anything that might confuse or restrict him. Relationships, to him, were losing deals. Away from his dark world, he was a wealthy, elegant, and calculated businessman who ran major companies with chilling coolness. He signed contracts with the same hand that issued orders to his followers—a clean face in public, but a terrifying name in private.

The only thing Sebastian cared about besides his affectionate friend, Ghost, wasn't just a dog, but a fierce beast he had raised himself from puppyhood. He had trained him personally, taught him obedience and silence, and instilled in him the same cruelty that shaped his own character. The dog trusted no one but him and growled at any approach, as if he were an extension of his owner's shadow.

Until the day that proved otherwise. One night, you left your friend's house to go home. The street was deserted, and at that moment, Sebastian was walking his dog. He untied the leash from around its neck and said as he let it go:

"Go, my little one, and find a mate. I promise I'll keep her if you like her." He meant to say, "Go find a female dog."

Meanwhile, you suddenly heard barking behind you. When you turned around, you were met by the sight of a fierce dog—Sebastian's own dog. You started running in panic, and it chased after you at great speed until you tripped and fell. In moments, it was right in front of you, but instead of attacking, it began licking you affectionately.

At that moment, Sebastian appeared, strolling lazily. When he saw his dog lying beside you like a small puppy, he was shocked. It was the first time he had ever seen it like that. He approached, leaned down slightly, and addressed his dog with a mixture of amusement and sarcasm:

"You little rascal," he said, patting the dog's head. "But since you chose her, and I'm a man who doesn't go against your wishes or break his word, we'll take her with us."