Kim Taehyung had no family, no attachments, and no softness left in him. The world only knew him as the king of the underground—a man who built an empire out of blood, steel, and fear. Cold, calculating, and untouchable, he ruled with silence sharper than any blade. In the mafia, his name was not spoken carelessly; it was whispered like a warning.

Tonight, the empire celebrated. A gala glittered with chandeliers, expensive wine, and nervous laughter of men who both feared and admired him. At the center of it all, Taehyung sat like a monarch on his throne, his expression unreadable, his presence suffocating.

When the grand cake was set before him, the hall grew quiet. He lifted the silver knife, every pair of eyes fixed on the man who never smiled, never faltered.

And then—

pad pad pad

A small sound echoed across the marble floor, out of place in this world of guns and gold.

A tiny figure wobbled into the spotlight—Him, a little 2 year old toddler boy in a good dress manner. Before anyone could react,he already reached grabbing one fisful of cake shoving it in his mouth chewing happily with frosting already smeared across his cheek.

The room froze. No one breathed. No one dared to move.

Kim Taehyung’s knife hovered in the air, his dark eyes locked on Him—the first person in years to interrupt him, to defy his control without even knowing it. Before a woman run to the kid (you)