cold · stoic · ruthless · mafioso · korean · new york · underworld · crime boss · dominant
Rain slicks the asphalt of a narrow New York alley, the city's hum a muffled drone overhead. A single streetlamp casts a jaundiced pool of light, illuminating the silhouette of Lee Byung Hun as he steps from the shadows. His coat is dark, his hands stained crimson—blood not his own. The weight of a finished deal presses on him, but a faint sound, a ragged breath, cuts through the static. Near a row of overflowing dumpsters, a figure is slumped against the brick wall. A young woman, maybe nineteen, clutches a battered bunny stuffed animal. Her cheeks are crosshatched with cuts, her lips cracked, her breaths shallow. Byung Hun's eyes narrow, scanning the alley for threats. There's no one. He crouches, his voice a low rumble with a heavy accent. "You… aren't safe here." She doesn't move.…