(ONE WEEK BEFORE THE STORM)
Location: Kim Mansion
A sudden ting and the vibration of Jaehyun's burner phone in his pocket cut through the silence. His eyes flicked downward.
The message was simple:
'Helena has arrived
-MH.'
And just like that, the familiar sinister glint ignited in his gaze.
Family. Such a heartwarming word.
Father. A protective shield for every child.
But what if he became the very reason for every turmoil?
Deep within the fortified walls of the Kim estate, seven mafia kings lived-not just as legends-but as brothers, bound by blood, power, and secrets. To the outside world, their code names bred fear and awe. But inside these walls, it was their father who held their strings tightly.
Inside his private office, Jaehyun-the father of the seven-had been sitting in a massive king-sized chair behind a desk cluttered with locked drawers. Age had begun to leave its mark in the form of wrinkles on his skin, but his eyes, sharp and cruel, showed no hint of softening. If anything, his physical strength and ruthless cunning seemed only to sharpen with time, like a blade honed daily.
He had been flipping through thick files, his gaze scanning records from recent operations his sons had executed. He hadn't been looking for their triumphs; he had been hunting for their mistakes-small enough to be dismissible by others, but big enough for him to justify feeding his sadistic appetites.
Until the message pinged.
It was followed by a string of reports-updates on the rising activity of the Black Panther syndicate in Korea. Just above the newly received message, earlier texts detailed their strategic shift: shipments were now being rerouted to Korea instead of New York.
It was a pattern-a precise observation spanning three months, with a noticeable spike in operations over the past week. Double the activity. A deliberate escalation.
Pulling out a second phone-sleek, high-end, more expensive than most people's yearly salaries-he typed a short message, his fingers moving with predatory precision.
'Meeting room. In 5.'
The message vanished into the group chat reserved for his "beloved" sons.
With one last glance at the burner phone, he snapped the file shut and rose to his feet. His chair creaked ominously as he left the office, striding with the purpose of a man who expected the world to kneel.
~•~
Elsewhere in mansion, while Jaehyun summoned storms in the war room, chaos of a different kind stirred in the kitchen.
Two young men-boys by age, but warriors by physique-were busy munching on blueberries dipped in yogurt.
Junseo, with wide doe eyes, sat atop the kitchen counter, swinging his legs lazily.
Beside him, perched on a wooden stool, was Taeyang, his striking features split between a monolid and double eyelid-an oddly charming combination.
They were the two troublemakers among the brothers.
Despite the inhumane strings pulled by their father, the brutal world they were forced into, and the killers they were trained to become, they somehow managed to carve out moments of playful banter in their cruel lives.
They used to tease their hyungs, steal things just for fun, and intentionally get under everyone's skin.
The reactions they received varied.
Hyunjae often ended up joining their mischief, unable to resist the chaos.
Haejoon, ever the calm one, usually ignored them-or, on some days, delivered a sharp, nearly philosophical lecture that made them question their life choices for a minute or two.
Dohyun responded with a bright laugh-or a disgusted, judgmental look that made them laugh even harder.
And Seungho? They rarely dared to cross the icy hacker.
Once, they tried hiding his headphones. Their punishment? Every single device they owned malfunctioned for a week-from phones and smartwatches to even the microwave, which started acting up the moment Taeyang walked near it.
But it was Hyunsik-the eldest-who gave the reaction they loved most.
He used to get truly, visibly irritated.
And so, he became their favorite target.
Just like today.
Their peaceful theft was interrupted when Hyunsik entered with a scowl.
His broad shoulders blocked part of the kitchen doorway.
"How many times have I told you not to steal my snacks?" Hyunsik's voice was sharp, laced with a very older-brotherly annoyance. "Do I need to put a lock on the fridge?"
Junseo, ever the mischief-maker, immediately popped three blueberries into his mouth at once, almost mockingly. He grinned mischievously, "It was his idea, hyung. This bratty hyung pulled me into this," he said, dramatically pointing at Taeyang. "Blame him"
Taeyang simply rolled his eyes, unfazed and ready to argue back-but before he could, all three of their phones pinged in unison.
And the faint buzz of phones from other rooms could be heard too.
Taeyang's playful grin faded instantly.
"Guess playtime's over," he muttered. "Wouldn't want to give the ringmaster a reason to snap."
His jaw twitched.
Hyunsik nodded stiffly. "Right. But remember... this isn't over. You will pay later."
Their earlier casualness was forgotten, the three of them hurried toward the meeting room.
"What do you think this is about, hyungs?" Junseo asked under his breath as they neared the heavy metallic doors.
The doors which would lead them into the reality of their dark world. The world all of them would sell their souls to escape.
Taeyang shrugged, reaching for the handle.
"Let's hope our skin doesn't get whipped," Hyunsik joked dryly, trying to lighten their racing pulses.
They pushed open the doors and entered the lion's den.
~•~
Inside, the atmosphere was suffocating.
Seungho, close in age to Hyunsik, sat at the right hand side of their father. A laptop rested on his thighs, his fingers dancing rapidly across the keyboard as he dismantled firewalls with detached precision.
He had just gotten the chance to sleep after long hours of hacking, tracking, and tearing down the digital barriers of the global world-the life of the syndicate's tech head.
But of course, how could his father let him rest?
His expression was unreadable-until his screen flickered. A glitch. His fingers stilled for half a second. Something's wrong.
At the opposite end of the table, seated in another head chair directly across from their father, sat a young man with tousled brunette hair-Haejoon, the leader of the Red Dragons. His expression was calm and composed, as always.
He had been absorbed in reviewing a set of precise, flawless contracts, preparing for an upcoming alliance with a newly formed mafia group. Simultaneously, he was skimming through reports-until his phone buzzed.
As he sat there, a quiet thought echoed through him: If only I wasn't capable of leading... then maybe I wouldn't have been made one by him.
But then again-if I weren't useful, would I even still be alive?
His knuckles turned white against the chair's arm. But he quickly recovered his calm composure.
Hyunjae sat beside Haejoon, a knife in his hand, carefully sharpening it to perfection. His eyes never lifted from the blade, but his ears were alert, ready to catch every whispered word, every movement.
Moments ago, he'd been patrolling the eastern wing of the mansion-the heart of their armory. He had been admiring the craftsmanship of various weapons, quietly criticizing the ones that were too blunt or too slow to be efficient.
Then the order came.
Though his smirk didn't fade and his expression remained casually amused, the tightening grip around his device betrayed him.
Dohyun hadn't been doing anything critical like the others. He had just been strolling across the rooftop. Being filthy rich did have its perks-especially the mansion's rooftop, vast and mesmerizing.
Yet the beauty of it always carried a shadow.
It was the place where their mother had spent her final moments. A memory that haunted each of them.
Only Dohyun-familiar with heights, with rooftops, with the solitude of a sniper-ever dared to return there. He didn't find solace in the place.
But it kept him grounded.
Reminded him of what he'd lost.
And what still threatened to consume him.
That was when his phone had buzzed-and the glow on his face faded instantly.
The three latecomers slipped into their seats, spines straight, breaths held.
Jaehyun surveyed the room, drumming fingers on the table, as though to mock his sons.
"So... how have my boys been lately?" he asked, flashing a taunting smile that made the pit of their stomachs twist.
Taeyang muttered under his breath, "Thanks to you, every day's a dream" the sarcasm unmistakably evident. The words were too low for Jaehyun to catch-but not for Hyunjae, whose mouth twitched slightly.
Without moving a muscle in his upper body, Haejoon delivered a sharp kick under the table, connecting with the twin culprits just hard enough to warn them to behave.
"We all know this isn't the usual weekly meeting," Hyunsik said smoothly like the diplomat he was, yet the word dad sticking to his tongue like thorns pricking it. "So just get straight to the point."
Jaehyun chuckled humorlessly, his smile vanishing as his eyes hardened.
"She's back," he said.
The name followed. One word that froze every breath in the room.
"Helena."
The news of the Black Panther's Queen return lingered in the now tensed air, filled with anticipation.