𝕭𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕸𝖊 [ON HOLD]

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝟐|| 𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐥

For Changbin, Mondays were the absolutely worst — not for the typical Monday Blues why everyone else hated them, though. Rather because it was his turn to step into "homemaker Changbin" mode. In his pack of seven, they had a system where each person took on a different day of the week for housework, and Changbin somehow ended up with Mondays. Ironically, it was Changbin himself who had willfully volunteered for Monday duty, believing that it would be a relatively easy task since Mondays were traditionally considered the busiest workdays, with everyone usually away or him occupied with the mafia business.

Plot twist — turns out, Wolfgang was everything but ordinary; it wasn't made up of your average nine-to-fivers. Most of the pack members barely lifted a finger on Mondays, chilling and working from home, while Changbin had to tackle the endless list of chores all by himself that they not so generously left for him after the weekends — backfired on the poor guy.

Accepting his fate with a resigned sigh, Changbin trudged his way back to the house, weighed down by the bulky grocery bags in both hands — which felt like some major gym reps, satisfying the loss of time for his routine work out. He set the bags down at his feet and fumbled with the keys, finally unlocking the back door with a bit of effort.

Upon stepping into the Wolfgang's pack house through the back door, it was practically impossible to believe that it was the residence of a mafia gang. The whole mood was totally opposite of what one would imagine. Instead of dark, menacing decor, the place looked like a paradise — soft plushies everywhere, artworks and posters pinned on the pastel-coloured walls, fluffy cushions scattered around, neon led strips glowing from the ceilings' edges, and gaming consoles plugged in beside the messy bunches of snacks and drinks. The place radiated warmth and cosiness — defying the icy, intimidating aesthetic one might picture for a mafia hideout.

And it was unapologetically embarrassing. With such clumsy but homey interiors, it seemed ridiculous for a mafia gang to live in place like that. They were expected to reside in a dark, ominous, den-like lair, but honestly, none of the residents was down for that sort of vibe to call it as a home. Yet, if they ever hosted guests, they'd surely be judged for their house, which hardly matched the stereotypical mafia image.

That's why they never invited a single soul, except for the occasional sunlight and fresh air, to their house. The place was far from presentable, even if others of their kind were dying to see what one of the most infamous mafia's home looked like. They hadn't even welcomed their closest ally pack — Guerrilla — over, despite the trust they shared.

The most anyone had seen was the exterior, which, to be fair, looked like a mansion straight out of a magazine — a luxurious, posh mansion that demanded respect at first glance. But the inside was a completely different story, that was best left untold. Instead, they held all their meetings in a common room not far from their actual residence. Strangely enough, the Guerilla pack had never invited them to their place either, so it balanced well.