Mafia POV – S.Coups

The city was dressed in glass and gold that night.

From the thirty-second floor of the Imperial Crown Hotel, Seoul glimmered like a woman ready to be devoured—jewels strung across her throat, blood beneath her perfume. The elite had gathered, parading in tailored suits and sequined gowns, laughing into champagne glasses, oblivious to the real kings of this city who watched from the shadows.

Choi Seungcheol leaned back in his chair, a crystal tumbler of whiskey dangling between his fingers. The gala below wasn't for people like him—it was for the kind who still believed contracts were made with pens and not bullets.

His dark eyes scanned the ballroom from the mezzanine, sharp and deliberate. He wasn’t here for the music or the food. He was here for a face.

“Still brooding like you’ve never had a good fuck?” Junhui drawled from beside him, swirling his wine.

Seungcheol didn’t glance at him. “Why are you even here?”

“Same reason as you,” Jun smirked. “To see the fresh meat.”

“Not meat,” Mingyu murmured, appearing at Seungcheol’s other side like a shadow. “They’re legacy. The Yoon family’s heirs. The boys everyone whispers about but never gets close to.”

Seungcheol’s jaw flexed. “Then maybe it’s time someone did.”

A silence settled between them as the doors at the end of the ballroom opened. The crowd shifted, murmurs rising like smoke. Camera flashes bloomed.

And then they entered.

Yoon Jeonghan and Yoon Joshua.

Heirs to one of Korea’s most powerful business empires. Untouchable. Impossibly pretty. Raised on etiquette, charm, and cold hard privilege.

But something about them wasn’t soft.

Joshua was all polished smiles and gentlemanly grace, in a deep navy tux that shimmered under the chandelier. He greeted every hand offered to him with the kind of calculated charm you’d expect from royalty.

Jeonghan, though…

He didn’t smile.

He walked like the room belonged to him, shoulders back, head tilted slightly in that way people mistake for innocence. But Seungcheol saw it. The sharpness in his gaze. The apathy. He was bored—and bored people were dangerous.

“You’re staring,” Mingyu muttered.

“I’m watching,” Seungcheol corrected.

“Same thing when your eyes burn like that.”

Jun chuckled. “I heard Jeonghan’s never had a proper scandal. Bet you’d love to change that.”

Seungcheol stood.

“Oh?” Jun blinked. “You're going down?”

He didn’t answer. He adjusted his suit, fixed his cuffs, and descended the staircase like the devil preparing to steal a soul.

---

Jeonghan noticed him the second he stepped onto the ballroom floor.

The man was unmistakable.

Broad shoulders. Dark hair. Presence like a sharpened blade. Jeonghan had seen photos of him in underground dossiers—Choi Seungcheol, street orphan turned kingpin. Untouchable. Ruthless. Wealthy beyond reason. A man who didn’t belong in this room, yet walked like he owned it.

Their eyes met.

Electric.

Jeonghan felt something in his chest shift. Not flutter. Clench.

He turned to Joshua with a whisper, “Mafia.”

Joshua’s smile didn’t falter. “Which one?”

“Choi Seungcheol.”

Joshua’s gaze subtly slid to the man approaching. His eyes flickered. “Dangerous company.”

Jeonghan smirked. “The best kind.”

Seungcheol reached them just as Jeonghan turned back, offering his hand like a bored prince.

“You’re Yoon Jeonghan,” Seungcheol said. Not a question. A fact.

“You must be lost,” Jeonghan replied smoothly, eyes cool. “The charity events are downstairs. This one’s for people with clean money.”

Seungcheol smirked. “All money’s dirty. Some just smell better.”

Jeonghan tilted his head, studying him like art. “And yours?”

“Filthy,” Seungcheol said, stepping closer. “But I wash up well.”

Beside them, Joshua cleared his throat with a polite smile. “Joshua Yoon. I don’t think we’ve met.”

Seungcheol gave a slow nod. “I know who you are.”

Joshua’s smile tightened.

Jeonghan noticed the shift. Seungcheol wasn’t here to charm both of them—only him.

Interesting.

And dangerous.

“What do you want?” Jeonghan asked, swirling his wine.

“To talk,” Seungcheol said simply.

“Talk or threaten?”

“Same thing,” he replied. “Depending on how well you listen.”

Joshua stepped in. “We don’t engage in underworld dealings, Mr. Choi.”

Seungcheol glanced at him once, then ignored him completely.

Joshua’s jaw ticked.

“Is that your older brother?” Seungcheol asked Jeonghan, like they were alone in a room full of ghosts.

Jeonghan hummed. “One minute.”

Joshua scoffed, “I’m older by—”

“Don’t care,” Seungcheol cut in.

Joshua stiffened.

Jeonghan laughed softly. “You’re bold.”

Seungcheol leaned closer, just enough for Jeonghan to smell his cologne—smoke and cedar and something expensive.

“I don’t make threats, Jeonghan,” he said. “I make decisions.”

“And what decision have you made?”

“That I’m going to own you.”

The air between them stilled.

Jeonghan blinked once. Then, slowly, smiled. Not a flirty smile. A promise of war.

“You’d need to be more interesting than my father’s bank accounts,” he said. “And much more dangerous.”

“I am.”

Another voice cut in—low, firm, and definitely not amused. “Back off, Seungcheol.”

Lee Jihoon, aka Woozi, appeared at Jeonghan’s side like a phantom. His presence was small but commanding. Eyes sharp. Aura lethal.

Hoshi was behind him, grinning like this was fun.

“This isn’t your playground,” Woozi said coldly.

“I didn’t know he was yours,” Seungcheol replied, voice smooth.

“He’s not,” Woozi answered. “But he’s not yours either.”

Jeonghan didn’t speak. He watched them like a man being auctioned, and found it slightly amusing.

Woozi turned to him. “Come.”

Seungcheol reached out and gently caught Jeonghan’s wrist—not hard, just enough to send a silent message.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of,” Seungcheol said, low.

“I’m counting on it,” Jeonghan murmured, and let Woozi pull him away.

---

Upstairs, Mingyu laughed into his drink. “Well. That went… poorly.”

Jun smirked. “He’ll get him eventually. He’s Seungcheol.”

DK appeared beside them, eyes on the floor below. “Forget Jeonghan. Look at Joshua.”

Mingyu followed his gaze.

Joshua was on the far end of the room now, standing alone at the bar, sipping from a flute of champagne. Cold. Elegant. Everything DK had no business wanting.

Mingyu grinned. “Don’t even try it.”

DK’s eyes didn’t move. “I’m not trying. I’m deciding.”

---

And on the ballroom floor, Jeonghan’s heart thudded louder than it should have.

The devil had spoken.

And something inside him was already answering.

---