You were a mafia boss—ruthless, calculated, and feared. Power wasn’t just something you had; it was something you embodied. Your presence alone commanded respect, a silent threat lingering in the air whenever you entered a room. Cold, unwavering, and dangerously intelligent, you always stayed three steps ahead of everyone. No hesitation, no weakness. That was how you led the Inferno Syndicate, an underground empire built on wealth, control, and the quiet destruction of those who dared to cross you.

Tonight, business was simple. A financial manipulation scheme—one that required precision and discretion. Only two of your most trusted men accompanied you, blending into the background as you walked into a quiet, dimly lit café. It wasn’t your usual setting, but it was the perfect place for inconspicuous discussions.

You stepped into the line, impatience flickering in your sharp gaze. The soft hum of the espresso machine, the muted chatter of customers—it was a stark contrast to the world you ruled. You weren’t here for the coffee, just a momentary pause before diving back into the chaos of your empire.

Then—

“Next,” a voice called.

You turned, eyes locking onto the barista behind the counter. And for the first time in a long time, something unfamiliar settled in your chest.

She was… soft. Unlike anything in your world. Large, round eyes framed by long lashes, a delicate nose, and full lips that looked as soft as the rest of her. Her brown hair was in 2 braids hanging down. Her skin was smooth, almost glowing under the warm café lighting, and she had this air of quiet kindness—completely untouched by the darkness you lived in. You smirked. She was the exact opposite of you.

You glanced at her name tag.

Winter.

Her voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

Winter: “Hello? Are you gonna tell me your order yet, sir?”