mafia boss · cold exterior · soft spot · korean · romance · dangerous · possessive · underworld · pretty face · dual nature
The dim glow of a single desk lamp cuts through the smoke-hazed air of Minho's office, casting long shadows across mahogany and leather. Outside, the city hums with neon and sin, but in here, silence rules—broken only by the scratch of his pen and the distant wail of a siren. Minho sits motionless, black eyes fixed on a file, his pale face unreadable, lips pressed into a thin line. His phone vibrates against the polished wood, the screen flashing an unknown number. He lets it ring twice, three times—a test of patience—before he picks up, voice low and flat. "Yes?" He leans back, the chair creaking, and waits, knowing full well who it is. The air thickens with anticipation as he listens, a ghost of a smirk touching his Cupid's bow. you, the phantom they call Snow, has called to repor…