A few days later, Jeongguk should have forgotten about it. About him.

He hadn't even touched him. Hadn't even spoken to him. Just a fleeting glance across a crowded club—a moment that shouldn't have meant anything.

But it did.

Because Jeongguk couldn't stop thinking about Kim Taehyung.

He told himself it was just curiosity. A son of the Kim Mafia, unseen in Seoul until now? The man who controlled their Italian empire? That was interesting. That was unusual. That was dangerous.

But Jeongguk knew better. It wasn't just that.

It was the way Taehyung had looked at him. Unfazed. Unshaken. The way he had met Jeongguk's gaze—not with fear, not with admiration, but amusement.

Like he knew something Jeongguk didn't.
Like he saw through him.

That had never happened before.

"Still thinking about him?"

Hoseok's voice broke through his thoughts. Jeongguk scowled, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

"I don't think about people."

Hoseok smirked. "Right. That's why you've been sitting here all night, ignoring everyone throwing themselves at you."

Jeongguk said nothing.

Instead, he pulled out his phone, scrolling through the files his men had sent.

Kim Taehyung.
Second son of the Kim family. Raised in Italy. Fluent in four languages. More than just a pretty face. A strategist. A ghost. A man who only appeared when something big was about to happen.

And now, he was here.

Hoseok's voice cut in again.
"Oh, by the way. The invitation came."

A black envelope, embossed in gold. Formal. Dangerous. The Kim family's annual masquerade. A night where alliances were made and broken, where knives hid behind smiles and deals were sealed in blood.

Hoseok frowned when he saw it. "You're not seriously considering going, are you?"

Jeongguk turned the envelope over in his hands. "I haven't decided."

Hoseok scoffed. "Bullshit. You decided the second you saw his face."

Jeongguk didn't deny it.

Because Hoseok was right.

--

The next few days were hell for Jeongguk.

A man who never went home alone—who collected bodies like trophies, whose nights were filled with fleeting heat and nameless pleasure—had spent a month untouched. Unmoved.

And the worst part?

He had tried.

Strippers, club dancers, the kind of people who knew exactly how to seduce, who had never failed to make his head spin, his body react. But now?

Nothing.

It was maddening. Infuriating.

Jeongguk sat in the VIP lounge of a club, whiskey burning down his throat as a woman traced painted nails down his chest, lips brushing his ear, voice soft, sultry, promising.

He closed his eyes, willed himself to feel something.

But all he saw was Taehyung.

The way he had looked at him. That knowing smirk, those unreadable eyes, the quiet arrogance that should have pissed him off—but instead, it haunted him.

Jeongguk exhaled sharply and pushed the woman away.

"Not tonight," he muttered.

She pouted, but he didn't care.

Because he knew the truth now.

No one else could touch him. Because no one else was him.

Kim Taehyung had ruined him.

Hoseok watched, unimpressed, as Jeongguk drowned himself in whiskey and frustration.

Not just sexual frustration. No, that would've been easier. This? This was worse. Jeongguk wasn't just angry—he was haunted.

And the worst part? It was by a fucking Kim.

Hoseok swirled his own drink lazily, side-eyeing his best friend, who sat stiff and seething in the dimly lit VIP booth. A week ago, Jeongguk would've had someone in his lap by now—maybe two. He had never been picky. Never had to be.

But now?

He hadn't touched anyone in a month.

All because of one fucking look.

"You look like shit," Hoseok said casually, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

Jeongguk shot him a glare that could kill a lesser man. "Fuck off."

Hoseok smirked. Bingo.

"Not my fault you're losing your mind over a pretty face."

Jeongguk exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "It's not just that."

"Oh?" Hoseok leaned forward, intrigued. "Then what?"

Jeongguk didn't answer.

Because how could he?

How could he admit that it wasn't just about the way Taehyung looked, wasn't just attraction? It was the way Taehyung had looked at him.

Like he had already won.

Like Jeongguk was a puzzle he had already figured out.

That should have pissed him off. Should have made him want to crush him.

Instead, it made him want to know him.

It made him want to ruin him.

Or maybe—maybe it was already too late.

Maybe Taehyung had already ruined him first.

"You do realize," Hoseok continued, voice light but eyes sharp, "your ancestors are probably rolling in their graves, right? A fucking Kim?"

Jeongguk's jaw clenched. Hating the truth in Hoseok's words.

This shouldn't have happened. It shouldn't have meant anything.

But it did.

Because no matter how much he drank, no matter how many people threw themselves at him, Kim Taehyung was still there.

A ghost in his mind.

A fire in his blood.

A problem he couldn't fucking solve.

"We're going to the masquerade this year."

Jeongguk's voice was calm—too calm. The kind of calm that preceded a storm.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, swirling his drink. "Oh? Since when do we give a shit about the Kims' little vanity fair?"

Every year, invitations to the Kim Family's Masquerade Ball arrived in black and gold envelopes—formal, extravagant, and dripping with power. Every year, the most dangerous names in the underworld gathered in one place. And every year, Jeongguk barely glanced at the invitation before tossing it aside.

But this year?

This year, he had to go.

Jeongguk turned the sleek envelope between his fingers, eyes dark, jaw tight. "Since now."

Hoseok leaned back, smirking. "You mean since him."

Jeongguk said nothing.

He didn't have to.

Because they both knew the truth.

Jeongguk had to go.

He couldn't not.

He had to see Kim Taehyung again. Had to look him in the eye and prove—to Taehyung and to himself—that he was nothing more than just another mafia heir. Another enemy. Another name on a list of people Jeongguk would eventually forget.

Not someone worth losing his mind over.

Not someone who had haunted his thoughts for weeks.

Not someone who had turned his world upside down with just one fucking look.