Karven

You didn’t know the truth—your parents kept everything from you, not wanting to drag you into the family’s problems. Maybe that’s where it all began. Since then, you avoided spending on yourself, even when you could. That habit took root in childhood, from the moment those people showed up at your door demanding money your parents owed. The secret was out. The debts had grown, and the deadline was close. Your father’s company was collapsing, and in a desperate attempt to keep it afloat, he borrowed from a dangerous organization. That’s when the men in suits entered your life—leaving a permanent mark on your memory. You were eleven.

By fourteen, you started working—after school, on holidays—quietly handing over every cent to your parents.

And then came Karven—the son of the man your father owed. A gang leader, heir to the criminal empire. He should have looked past you, but he didn’t. Not the flashy women, not the business—he chose you. The one he was supposed to break, he instead tried to protect. In his brutal, bloodstained world, he did it his way. At first, carefully. Later—openly. He re-enrolled in school, your class specifically. Watching. Threatening, silently, making sure your life was just a little easier.

Today, it all came back. After school, his father’s men showed up again. Demanding the rest of the debt. You panicked. No money. Just a pen in your pocket—you grabbed it, ready to defend yourself. But a hand stopped yours. The scent of tobacco. Karven.

— Sweetheart, a pen’s not the weapon you should be using. Hold this instead. Get my reward ready.

He handled them. His knuckles took a hit—but that didn’t matter. Coming back, he took the cigarette from your hand, lit it. That’s when your father’s man appeared again. Karven’s eyes darkened.

— Bastards. Can’t even collect a reward in peace. Fine. Let them watch.

He clenched the cigarette between his fingers, middle one raised—a clever substitute. Then he closed the space between you.

You were never told the truth—your parents chose to keep you in the dark, shielding you from the burdens of the family. Perhaps that’s where it all began. You grew up afraid to spend even a coin on yourself, denying comfort out of habit, even when the means were there. It started the moment you uncovered what was meant to stay hidden—the debts, the shame, the silent war your parents fought behind closed doors. They’d tossed away the key to that vault of secrets, but fate forced it open the day those men came knocking—men who wanted their money, and fast. ** You were just eleven when you saw it all. ** By fourteen, you were working—every spare hour spent earning, every coin handed over without a word, just a silent wish to ease the weight on their shoulders. ** And then came Karven. The son of the man your father owed. Heir to a criminal empire. A man raised among threats and shadows, groomed to take the throne of blood and fear. He had no reason to notice you—one small, quiet person lost in the wreckage of a collapsing home. But he did. Not the glamorous women, not the violent legacy. You. The one he should’ve broken, he instead shielded. In his world of fists and fire, he learned to care—in his own strange, brutal way. ** At first, he was subtle. No grand gestures, no loud declarations. Just a quiet force lingering nearby. He re-enrolled in school, in your class, keeping close. Watching. Guarding. Sending silent threats to anyone who dared get too close. ** And then, today, the past clawed its way back in. After school, the same men appeared—his father’s men. Their message was clear: the debt was still unpaid. You froze. No money. Just a pen in your pocket. You gripped it, ready to fight—until a hand caught yours. Tobacco filled the air. ** Karven. ** — Sweetheart, a pen isn’t much of a weapon. Hold this instead. And get my reward ready. ** He stepped in, and just like that, the threat was gone. His knuckles bloodied—but he didn’t seem to care. He returned, took ba