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Pyongyang International Airport buzzed like a hornet's nest that morning. Reporters swarmed the arrival gates, their cameras and microphones clutched tightly, lenses already aimed. Lines of police officers stood at every corner, their expressions stone-cold.
After nearly two hours of restless waiting, the crowd finally stirred. A sleek black limousine rolled up to the curb, followed by a convoy of eight or ten other vehicles. The moment it stopped, a wall of bodyguards poured out, forming a human shield around the main car.
The manager stepped forward, pulled the door open, and out stepped a young man dressed entirely in black. Cargo pants, leather jacket, and dark-tinted aviators hid his eyes. The press erupted in a frenzy, flashes exploding like lightning.
Another figure emerged behind him in ripped blue jeans, a fitted white T-shirt, and a black shirt tied carelessly around his waist.
The man in black reached back, took the other boy's hand, and the two moved swiftly toward the exit, flanked on all sides by guards. Cameras trailed their every step.
"Ladies and gentlemen, here they are at Pyongyang Airport, Mafia Prince Jimin and his friend, Taehyung!" a news anchor's voice crackled through the chaos.
Yes, Mafia Prince Jimin, heir to one of the most feared underworld dynasties. His father, Bogum, ruled the criminal empire with an iron fist, holding the coveted title of underworld king, a throne every mafia boss dreamed of claiming. Just weeks ago, Bogum announced he would pass that crown to his son. The underworld had been on edge ever since, and today's fortress of security made perfect sense.
---
Far away, in a high-rise room littered with glowing monitors, a man sat in a leather chair. Multiple CCTV feeds flickered across the screens. An iPad rested in his hand, a Bluetooth earpiece in his ear. The live feed on his tablet showed the airport scene.
"Hope everything's ready?" his voice was calm and deliberate.
"Yes, sir," came the reply.
He ended the call, set the iPad down, and stood.
"Just a few more hours, Mr. Mafia Prince Jimin, and you'll be standing right here, face-to-face. My boss can hardly wait," he murmured, brushing his hand over a monitor showing Jimin's face. Then his gaze narrowed when he noticed Jimin's hand clasped around someone else's.
"Who's that with him?" he asked sharply, dialing again.
"His friend. The nanny's son."
"He could complicate things. Make sure he doesn't come along." The line went dead.
---
The Pyongyang to Seoul flight took off under heavy security and touched down forty-five minutes later.
In Seoul, the arrangements were even tighter. More men, more guns, more eyes. A waiting car idled near the runway exit. Taehyung slipped into the backseat first, followed by Jimin. The driver pulled away without a word.
"I'm hungry," Taehyung said suddenly.
Jimin turned to him, startled. "What? You just said two hours ago you weren't hungry at all." He broke off when a billboard for an ice cream shop flashed past the window. "No," he said instantly.
"Please, no one will notice," Taehyung pleaded.
"No risks. We'll go home and I'll have someone bring it to you."
"Yeah, right. As if they'll actually let us eat in peace," Taehyung muttered with a pout.
"Don't play cute with me right now," Jimin said, then called to the driver, "Stop at the shop ahead."
The driver didn't respond.
"Did you hear me? I said stop the car!"
The vehicle suddenly veered off course and began to accelerate.
"Where the hell are you going? Stop the car! I said—" Before Jimin could reach him, strong arms yanked him back.
"Let me go or you'll regret it. I'll make you pay for this insult in ways you can't imagine," Jimin roared.
Another man grabbed Taehyung. "Touch him and I'll feed you to the dogs!" Jimin shouted, but no one listened.
His gaze met Taehyung's wide eyes glistening with fear, tears threatening to spill. Something in Jimin snapped.
With a violent surge, he braced his foot and slammed the man holding him into the seat in front. One swift kick sent the other attacker reeling. He lunged for the driver's collar, but the driver hit the brakes hard. The car screeched to a halt before a sprawling mansion.
In seconds, armed men swarmed the vehicle, yanking the two from their seats.
J-Hope stepped into view. "Take them upstairs."
"You'll regret touching me," Jimin growled. "You've signed your own death warrant."
"Time will tell," Hope replied coldly. "That arrogance, thinking no one's stronger than you, our boss will crush it. To him, you're nothing but ants."
"Who's this new clown? Bring him out. I'll show him exactly where he stands," Jimin barked.
---
The terrace was eerily still when they arrived. A man sat with his back to them, his posture relaxed yet commanding.
At the sound of footsteps, he turned. Late twenties, devastatingly handsome, a tailored suit clung to a body honed in the gym. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lingered on them in silence, a silence that felt dangerous.
Moments later, their Seoul head of security was dragged in.
Jimin froze. "You're making a mistake that'll cost you your life. One clue, that's all it'll take, and your body will be in pieces, dumped in a back alley. The entire mafia empire will make sure you regret being born."
The man didn't speak. Instead, he loaded his gun and pointed it straight at Jimin. Not a flicker of fear crossed Jimin's face.
Without warning, the man swung his arm and emptied all six bullets into the security guard's chest. The body hit the ground with a dull thud. The gun clattered to the floor as he stepped forward.
"What was that you said? My body in pieces?" His lips curved in a slow, dangerous smile. "No one has been born yet who can challenge me. Jeon Jungkook, also known as JK. And that mafia empire you brag about, destroying it would be child's play."
The name hit Jimin like a blow. He had heard it countless times, whispered across borders, but had never seen the man in person.
Taehyung pressed closer to him, trembling, his fingers clutching tight.
"JK…" Jimin breathed.
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