Choi Soobin, the older brother of mafia leader Choi Beomgyu, seems like a shadow in his own world-a deeply lonely figure who rarely speaks, always keeping to himself in isolation.
In stark contrast, Beomgyu's best friend Kang Taehyun, is outgoing...
It clung to him like a second skin, a shield that separated him from the constant noise of the world around him — especially from his younger brother, Beomgyu, whose life was a whirlwind of connections, loyalty, and fierce alliances. Soobin's role as the quiet, detached elder brother suited him; it let him exist on the periphery, a silent observer, untouched by the chaos.
He had no complaints. The life he lived — secluded, predictable, insulated — was one he'd carved out intentionally. Soobin preferred his own company to the risk of being misunderstood or, worse, dragged into things that went deeper than he was willing to venture. People often mistook his silence for shyness, his distance for disinterest. But he didn't care. Staying distant was safer.
Then came Kang Taehyun.
It wasn't that Soobin had anything against him; if anything, Taehyun was his brother's closest friend, a loyal and energetic force that kept Beomgyu anchored. But Taehyun was everything Soobin wasn't: open, outgoing, constantly teeming with sharp intelligence and a sense of adventure. Taehyun would laugh easily, draw people in with his charm, and effortlessly keep pace with whatever life threw at him. In another life, Soobin might have been drawn to that kind of energy. But Taehyun's arrival into his life now, especially with Yeonjun — Beomgyu's husband — missing, felt less like a coincidence and more like an unwelcome invasion.
Despite their differences, they were thrown together in their search for Yeonjun. And while Soobin was reluctant to admit it, something shifted each time Taehyun stepped into the room. Taehyun's energy, his persistence in getting Soobin to speak more than a handful of words, was a stark contrast to Soobin's preferred silence. But beneath the frustration, Soobin felt a strange, magnetic pull. Taehyun's very presence seemed to light up the shadows Soobin hid within, sparking something that he couldn't quite ignore.
And the spark was growing.
Each day, Soobin found it harder to keep his distance. Taehyun's laughter and stubbornness lingered in his mind, disrupting the stillness he cherished. But he was fighting it. Getting close to someone like Taehyun was dangerous. They were too different, too likely to collide and crack each other open in ways he wasn't ready for. Yet, he couldn't deny the way his gaze drifted toward Taehyun, nor could he suppress the curiosity that began to bloom with each conversation they shared.
But there was still Yeonjun to be found. That was their priority, he reminded himself daily. Yet the way Taehyun looked at him sometimes, a quiet smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, suggested that perhaps their partnership might lead to something more than they'd expected.
but that didn't mean it was going to be easy, Beomgyu's descent into depression had been painfully obvious.
Once, soobin's younger brother had been a force of nature — commanding, sharp, and nearly unstoppable as the leader of the TXT mafia. Beomgyu was always the life of any gathering, a charismatic presence that demanded respect, loyalty, and admiration. But now, that same powerful presence seemed faded, diminished like an ember losing its flame.
Soobin watched helplessly as Beomgyu retreated, leaving the responsibilities of their organization to him. At first, he tried to cover for Beomgyu's absence, handling day-to-day operations and making excuses to the others. But it was clear that Beomgyu's absence was not temporary. Since Yeonjun's disappearance, Beomgyu had become a ghost of himself, moving through their family home in silence, lost in a fog of grief and regret. His once-bright eyes were dull, his shoulders slumped. He barely spoke, and when he did, his voice was hollow, as if each word cost him too much.
Soobin found himself at the center of it all, grappling with Beomgyu's duties — tasks he'd never wanted and roles he felt ill-prepared to fill. But watching his brother break down day by day was harder than any of the pressures the mafia could throw at him. The weight of Beomgyu's pain seeped into the very walls of their home. The halls felt colder, quieter, echoing with a loneliness that even Soobin couldn't ignore.
Occasionally, he would catch a glimpse of Beomgyu in their family study with his third bottle of vodka, hunched over a worn photograph of him and Yeonjun, staring at it with a look so broken that Soobin had to turn away. His brother, the fearless leader of the TXT mafia, was now a man drifting through the ruins of his own life. For the first time, Soobin wished he could be different, someone better equipped to reach out, to pull his brother from the darkness. But his own tendency to stay silent, to retreat into his own world, felt like a prison as he watched Beomgyu wither.
Taking over the mafia wasn't just a duty anymore; it was a way to keep Beomgyu's legacy alive while he could no longer shoulder the weight himself. Soobin managed everything from meetings to operations, and each task was a reminder of how much his brother had lost. He couldn't bear to see Beomgyu crumble further, yet he was at a loss. It was as if they were both trapped — Beomgyu in his grief and Soobin in his isolation — and neither knew how to escape.
Maybe, Soobin thought in his quieter moments, the only way forward was to keep the mafia running for Beomgyu's sake, at least until his brother found his way back.
