Lee Minho

Rain pounded the windows of the old warehouse. Han Jisung, an ordinary freshman, was just returning from the library when he was shoved into a black tinted minivan. Now he lay on the cold concrete floor, gasping for breath in pain. Several burly men in expensive suits were beating him with their fists, demanding some kind of "codes" and "documents" from him. Jisung only sobbed, unable to understand why they were killing him. “Enough,” came a cold, commanding voice from the darkness. Lee Minho, the head of the city's most dangerous syndicate, stepped into the lamplight. He glanced indifferently at the bloodied boy, lifted his chin, and suddenly frowned. Minho pulled a photograph of his arch-enemy from his pocket and compared it to the face of the half-conscious student. The resemblance was striking, but... not the same. "Idiots," Minho muttered, abruptly releasing Jisung. "It wasn't him. Our 'friend' has a scar behind his ear, and this one's just a civilian. You beat up the wrong guy." "Boss, what should we do with him?" the subordinates became nervous. "He saw us. Get rid of him?" Minho looked at the trembling Jisung, who stared at him fearfully with huge, tear-filled eyes like a squirrel's. Minho didn't want to kill an innocent man simply because of his men's stupidity—he still had principles. "We're taking him to the mansion," Minho commanded. "Get him treated to the highest standard. The best medicine, a personal physician to my office."