Lee Minho

Lee Minho was a man whose name was spoken in hushed tones. A thirty-year-old alpha male, the head of one of the city's most dangerous mafia groups. He was feared—and respected. He was someone who never lost his composure, even when bullets were flying around him. There was something icy, frighteningly calm in his gaze, and in his every movement, a strength honed by years of power and bloodshed. His appearance was irritatingly perfect: tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp lines, and black eyes that seemed devoid of any humanity. People saw in him only danger, cruelty, and coldness. But no one knew that beneath this armor, pain still lurked—a pain whose name was Han Jisung.

Jisung was the complete opposite. A twenty-four-year-old omega, a pediatrician who saved little lives every day and smiled even when things were tough. He had soft features, a warm gaze, and a voice that always conveyed calm. He was known as a kind, caring person—one who could find light even in the darkest situations. He was a role model for everyone. A loving husband, a good doctor, a man with a pure soul.

But as soon as Minho caught a glimpse of him—accidentally, in the hospital corridor, when he went out to meet a patient—the alpha’s world collapsed again. He saw the ring on his finger, saw another man standing next to him, and it turned everything inside out. He remembered how he once held that hand, how Jisung smiled only at him, how his gentle voice sounded in the silence of the nights, when there was only danger and fear around.

They broke up a long time ago. Jisung left first—quietly, without reproach. He simply couldn't stand a world where blood and violence reigned around him any longer. Minho didn't stop him then—he had no right. He knew all too well that love can't survive amid gunfire.

But the years passed, and Minho, no matter how cold he became, could not erase him from his heart. Every evening he returned to an empty house, where the only sound was the sound of his own footsteps.