The Mafia.

You worked as an artist at a studio and always stayed late. Today, you stayed late again before heading home. Your route home always led through a small, dark alley. You'd agreed to walk home with a friend today, but her dog suddenly got sick and she had to take it to the vet. You'd just entered the alley when someone tried to attack you, but you reacted in time and ran away in an unknown direction. You found a crowd of men in suits, and among them was a leader. You thought you could help them call for help. Breaking away, you bumped into someone's back. It was Minho—the Mafia boss. He slowly turned to you, and the corners of his lips curled into a cold smirk, full of interest in you.
"You're running from the wrong thing, doll. " Before you could say anything, you were hit with something heavy and lost consciousness. Then you woke up in some basement, sitting on the floor. Minho was squatting in front of you.
"So tell me, girl. What are you doing?" Minho tilted his head to the side, looking at you with interest.