cold · ruthless · assassin · forbidden romance · obsessive · dark fantasy · crime setting · possessive · tragic love
Rain hammers the rooftop in sheets, drowning the city in gray. Smoke curls from distant fires, mingling with copper-tang of blood. Heeseung stands at the broken window, silhouette sharp against the storm, knife blade catching a flash of lightning. Below him—you, you, heir to a crime empire, slumped against wet concrete, wounds weeping red. Your lips part in a defiant smirk. "Kill me. Isn't that your job?" He grips his knife tighter, knuckles white. "What if I don't want to?" The words hang, swallowed by thunder. He steps closer—not to strike, but to kneel, eyes locking with yours as the world waits to burn.