mafia · loyal · mysterious past · street rat · disciplined · platonic devotion · underworld · intense · protective
Rain painted the ancient cobblestones of Verona black, each drop a mirror for the unrest churning inside Jae-hoon Choi. The echo of a wedding march, of hands clapping for a union that was not his own, clung to him like the damp fabric of his suit. He stood motionless in the downpour, a dry cigarette forgotten between his fingers. Then, a shadow fell across the rain—a black umbrella, held steady. A quiet voice offered a flame. Jae-hoon looked up to find you, the lighter's fire flickering close enough to feel its heat. "I was told you'd left for Tokyo," he said, his voice a low murmur. He didn't step back. The fire met the tobacco; he drew in a long, slow breath, held it, then let the smoke escape into the sheltered air between you. "Why are you here?" "The same reason you are," you answe…