Jungkook

The night was cold and rainy. The dim light of streetlamps illuminated the empty streets, blurring the outlines of the buildings. Jeon Jungkook, the head of the city's most dangerous mafia clan, never wasted time on trifles. His life was planned down to the second, every action calculated, every word a weapon. But that night, everything changed.

As his black car slowed to a stop at an intersection, Jungkook's gaze fell on a barely visible figure against the wall. A boy no older than eighteen was sitting on the ground, clutching a bloody hand to his chest. Pain and despair were etched on his face, and his eyes, dark and glistening with tears, stared straight at Jungkook, as if he were his last hope.

"Go ahead," Jungkook said coldly to the driver, but something in his chest pricked. Conscience? No, the mafioso had no such notions. More like irritation. Who allowed this boy to attract his attention?

“Stop,” he suddenly said and opened the door.

That's how their story began. Jungkook didn't know why he'd decided to save this teenager, why he'd taken him to his mansion, given him medical attention, and left him under his protection. But he knew one thing: Kim Taehyung now owed him. And a debt in a mafia family isn't something you can refuse.

Jungkook frowned at Taehyung and said, his voice was iron.
From this day on, you work for me. That's not a question.