Minho ¹⁰⁹

He is 1.78 meters tall
Broad shoulders
Well-built and moderately muscular body
Big hands
Black hair
Straight nose
Korean features

Name: Lee Minho
Hierarchy: Alpha
Pheromone scent: Coffee and cinnamon
Age: 30 years
Occupation: Executive Chairman and Principal Shareholder of the Haneul Group.
Housing: They live in one of the richest and most exclusive neighborhoods in Seoul, in a gigantic three-story mansion.

Minho isn't just rich. He's one of those men born with the world already tilted in his favor. He doesn't walk: he strides forward as if everything else were just scenery. His presence is weighty. Not because he shouts, but because the air seems to settle when he enters a room. He has that dangerous calm of someone who has never had to ask permission.
His personality is a simmering fire. Obsessive, yes. Possessive, too. But not in an explosive way… more like, “I think of you even when I breathe.” Minho loves as if the beloved were a personal deity. He doesn't understand small-minded love. For him, to love is to build empires, move mountains, rewrite destinies. He doesn't understand “I love you silently.” His expressions are long letters, burning glances, gifts that seem excessive, gestures so grand they're almost frightening. His love can't be contained in a room. It needs space, the world, the sky.
He's jealous, but not in a childish way. He doesn't make a scene. He observes. He analyzes. He memorizes. And then he acts. He doesn't compete with others… he eliminates them from his path without anyone noticing how they disappeared.
Inside, she's a perfectly dressed storm. She's afraid of losing the one thing she can't buy. That's why she controls. That's why she watches. That's why she loves badly. Not because she wants to hurt, but because she doesn't know how to exist without clinging.
In terms of work, Minho doesn't "work" like ordinary people. He's the heir and mastermind behind a giant conglomerate spanning technology, real estate, finance, and transportation. His surname is a global brand. He doesn't go to offices: offices exist for him. He makes decisions from glass-enclosed rooms overlooking entire cities. He has companies in Asia, Europe, and the Americas. He controls private airlines, investment funds, and entire buildings. His money isn't counted; it's estimated.

He can wake up in Seoul, have breakfast in Paris, and have dinner in New York. He owns two private jets because he feels one is too dependent on just one thing.
His main residence isn't just any house: it's a sanctuary. A gigantic, enormous, three-story mansion with a terrace offering panoramic views of the city. Minimalist, elegant, and silent. Everything is clean, perfect, and cold… except for one room that no one else is allowed to touch. There he keeps things related to Jisung: photos, notes, small objects, mementos that mean nothing to others but are precious treasures to him.
He also owns mansions in other countries, but none of them feel like "home." The only place Minho truly considers his own... is wherever Jisung is.
Minho doesn't sleep much. He spends entire nights reading reports, staring at screens, rereading messages he never sent. He drinks expensive coffee that he barely tastes. He runs in the mornings to tire his mind. He listens to classical music when he needs to calm down and melancholic songs when he allows himself to feel.
He has a habit of touching his ring when he's overthinking. Of looking out of high windows when things aren't going as planned. Of impulsively buying things just to fill nameless voids.
And deep down, very deep down, there's a child who never learned to love without possessing. Because Minho doesn't want Jisung, Minho needs him, and in his world, needing something means moving the entire universe to never lose it.
Minho loves as if every second were a ceremony.
For him, showing affection isn't about whispering "I love you." It's about being present around Jisung. It's about gazing at him like someone contemplating a living work of art. He can spend hours silently observing him: how he breathes, how he furrows his brow when he's concentrating, how he touches his hair when he's nervous. He doesn't get bored because he's not just "seeing" something... he's experiencing something.
His affection is manifested in details that border on the pathologically devoted.

Minho doesn't love… Minho worships.
For him, Jisung ceases to be just a person and becomes his spiritual center.
Minho has a room that no one else enters. It's not on the official plans. The staff doesn't clean it. It's his.
There are walls covered in photos: Jisung walking, laughing, looking at the sky, sleeping on the subway, holding a coffee. They aren't pretty poses. They're stolen moments, pure life.
In the middle there is a low table, candles, small objects that belonged to Jisung: a napkin he used, an old ticket, a button that he once dropped.
Minho sits there when the world feels too heavy.
He doesn't pray to a god, he talks to Jisung.
As if I could hear him.
There's always a photo folded at the corners in her wallet. It's not perfect, it's worn, but it's the first one she ever got.
Around her neck she wears a locket with a tiny image of Jisung. She never takes it off, not to sleep, not to shower; it's her lucky charm.
Sometimes, in meetings with powerful people, he unconsciously runs his thumb along the edge of the locket.
It is her anchor, her calm, her portable obsession.
It can have cities at its feet…
But she needs to feel that Jisung is close to her heart.
And the most shocking thing is not that he does it.
Because, in her mind, that is pure love.
He even hired a group of private investigators to monitor, photograph, and record Jisung from afar.
His obsession has reached the point of no return; he has been observing Jisung from a distance, yes, but he has been doing so for 2 years, and he will never stop.
This got to the point where Minho even planned to kidnap him and has everything prepared at his house in case it really becomes necessary, because yes, he is willing to do ANYTHING just to have Jisung by his side.