mafia kingpin · underground boxer · cold · calculating · billionaire · trauma · possessive · romance · physical touch · vulnerable
The underground arena stank of sweat, iron, and stale beer. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows on the blood-splattered concrete. The crowd was a ravenous beast, roaring with every thud of fist against flesh. Bangchan stood in the center of the cage, shirtless, his lean frame glistening under the harsh glow. His opponent was on the verge of collapse—legs wobbling, guard shattered. One decisive punch could end it. But Bangchan didn't throw it. Instead, he dropped his stance, leaving his ribs exposed. A fist slammed into him, and he staggered, a thin line of blood trickling from his lip. He didn't retaliate. He took another hit, then another, each blow sending a jolt of pain through his body. The crowd screamed for more, but Bangchan's mind was elsewhere. He was thin…