[ Warning: This story contains dark themes, Mafia violence, and mature content. Reader discretion is advised. ]

The scenery of the city was breathtaking—a place where the scent of life and movement was everywhere. On the roads, a thousand different souls drifted toward their own destinations, busy and indifferent to the world around them.

Once, I had dreamt of a life like this—leaving everything behind just to stand at the threshold of normalcy. I am so happy that I found someone to call my own… but a voice in my head still whispers: Do I truly deserve this?

I have received so much more than my status warrants. A coward like me… Mother, please forgive me.

My eyes grew heavy—but no tears fell. I lifted my head. Beside me was a man with a body as resilient as a diamond, his hand holding mine as we walked in perfect rhythm.

The chime of a door opening broke my thoughts.

"Hello. One Iced Americano and two simple hot coffees," Rivert ordered without even asking me. He knew my every like and dislike by heart.

"Certainly, sir. Anything else?" the waitress asked, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Nova and Rivert looked at each other—confused by her expression. The waitress gave a small, polite cough, offered a charming greeting, and disappeared into the back to prepare the order. All around the cafe, people were glancing at them… whispering with smiles.

"Look, they're holding hands… they look so cute together."

Shocked, they locked eyes again—then slowly looked down at their intertwined fingers. In that split second, their souls left Korea and flew all the way to India out of pure embarrassment.

They scrambled to let go—hands flying apart as if burned.

"Fuck," they both hissed at the same time.

They grabbed their order in a frantic blur and bolted out of the shop. They didn't dare take a breath until they were safely outside on the sidewalk.

"Ahhhhh! I've told you a thousand times, I'm not a kid! Don't hold my hand," Nova groaned, his face flushing a red so deep there was no difference between him and a ripe tomato.

On the other side, Rivert burst out laughing. While Nova was dying of shame, Rivert was busy enjoying the view of his friend's glowing red face.

"Okay, okay! That's enough laughing!" Nova snapped, stomping ahead.

"Hey, I'm sorry! But man, your face was just too funny," Rivert teased, rushing to catch up. "Nova! Nova, wait!"

Nova ignored him—quickening his pace. Rivert matched his speed. Their laughter echoed through the streets of Seoul as they chased each other's shadows.

Life could be so beautiful… if only time would slow down and let these moments last. But destiny only allows what it has already decided.

On the other side of the road…

"Sir, I found him. There's someone with him. Looks about the same age… mixed race."

On the other end of the phone, a heavy yet soft voice responded: "Do nothing. Come back. Just click a photo and send it to me."

"Yes, sir."

The man in the black suit was tall, with a distinct knife-mark scar cutting across his face.

"Is he a thief?" one of two passing girls whispered to her friend.

The man's sharp gaze snapped toward them—his eyes like hollow voids. The second girl, sensing the lethal aura radiating from him, realized instantly that this wasn't a man you whispered about. She grabbed her friend's arm.

"Shut up and just keep walking. Don't look back."

Morning | 11:30 AM

Trinity Well House: Alex's Territory (Kim Geoun)

The space was the pinnacle of luxury, built on some of the most expensive real estate in Korea. It was a playground—where both the masters of the underworld and the elite of the "overworld" came to unleash their inner demons.

The architecture was exotic: clean peach tones mixed with subtle veins of gold. Massive, glowing aquariums filled with rare sea creatures lined the halls—a testament to Alex's obsession with capturing and owning beauty.

But what truly made the atmosphere thick… was the scent of lust. Everywhere you looked—businessmen, actors, and politicians were rotting in their own pleasures. High on drugs and drowning in desire, they clung to each other, barely aware of where they were.

"There he is… the true beauty of Sir Alex's Well House. Jihoon," whispered a man sitting on a velvet sofa in the center of the VIP lounge.

Jihoon stepped into the room—draped in an elegant, white three-piece suit and sharp, refined leather Chelsea boots. He carried an undeniable aura… something that acted like a siren's call. The moment he walked in—every head turned.

"What a disgusting thing to say to a man, Sir Pavlo," Jihoon remarked, his voice cutting through the noise. "And why are you even here? Shouldn't you be with your dogs, experimenting on them?"

A mocking smile washed over Jihoon's face as he approached the seat next to Alex, sitting just a few inches away. The room fell into a suffocating silence. The shame burning on Pavlo's face… was the only satisfaction Jihoon needed.

"Did the Young Master's dog not give him his daily fill?" Pavlo spat back, trying to regain his footing.

There was no effect on Jihoon's face. He was used to hearing these remarks. But in the chaos of a back-biting war, someone else had very little patience.

The response was instantaneous. Violent.

A glass of red wine came flying through the air with sheer force—shattering against Pavlo's face and leaving shards of glass embedded in his skin. The silence that followed Jihoon's entry deepened into an abyss.

Ivan stepped into the light.

"There he is… the Mad Dog," Alex clapped with a teasing grin. He stood up and walked toward Ivan to give him a patronizing pat on the back. Ivan's eyes narrowed—flickering with a psychotic rage.

For a split second, Alex felt his instinct to survive scream at him to back away. But the eyes of the room were on them—wolves waiting to shred their prey. Ego won. Alex draped his arm around Ivan's neck.

"Take Sir Pavlo to the next room to treat him. And you… come here, buddy."

What a fool, Jihoon thought to himself, watching from the sidelines. Does he truly have no fear of death?

"Everybody get out."

The command was forced. Authoritative. The room became heavy—painfully quiet—as the three of them sat on the sofas, facing each other. Somehow… Ivan's eyes never left Jihoon's.

Ivan sat with his legs crossed, leaning back in a relaxed, steady pose. The blood from the previous incident remained on his neck—slowly turning dark brown against his black outfit.

"Didn't expect you personally came to get information," Alex said, trying to find the reason behind this high act. "That person must be some big shot that the young master came by himself. What is so special about him?"

It didn't matter to Alex. He brought what was asked of him. A stack of papers was shoved onto the center table.

"Here is your man, Young Master," Alex said.

Jihoon took his time looking at those papers. He saw the elite pawn of his revenge. As he turned the documents, a lecherous, excited, and malicious expression washed over Jihoon's face. He looked like a man who had finally found the toy he wanted to break.

Name: Choi Min-seok

Age: 28

Occupation: Undercover Agent

Agency: G-Force Military

Background: Orphan; no parental data available.

"Now…" Jihoon's voice was like ice. "It is my turn…"

He crumbled the documents in his hands with a cold, raw force. Unexpected memories flashed before his eyes—for a moment, he was not there. A mansion, a big garden, a man who was smiling at him… then suddenly that human face turned into wolves, eating their prey.

"I thought… how does it feel to have your legs broken when you are a marathon runner?"

Jihoon whispered it to himself, his expression turning purely psychotic.