Choi San, a revered and feared mafia boss, reigns over Seoul's underworld with an iron fist, his influence extending seamlessly across both legal and illegal domains. But his empire is shaken to its core when his beloved daughter, Eun-ji, is kidnapp...
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As we moved through the sprawling shopping center, the bright lights and bustling energy filled the air, each store luring me with something new. I couldn't help but bounce on my feet, excitement bubbling over with every window display and rack we passed. The thrill of exploring Japan, combined with the small victory of making San carry our growing pile of shopping bags, kept my grin wide and my mood buoyant.
San followed close behind, trying to maintain his usual composed look despite the increasing number of bags draped over his arms. Each step seemed to add to the image of him as a reluctant pack mule, though the hint of a smirk played on his lips. His slightly tousled hair and that softened look in his eyes gave him away—he was just as affected by our time together as I was.
I spun around, letting the bags swing a little as I looked up at him with a mischievous glint. "You keeping up back there?"
He let out a quiet huff, adjusting the bags in his hands with an exasperated shake of his head. "Barely," he muttered, his eyes glinting with amused resignation as they met mine. "You're making me carry half of Japan's fashion district."
"Well, someone has to do it." I shrugged, flashing him a grin. "And isn't this all part of the 'spoiling me' deal?"
He rolled his eyes, chuckling under his breath, but just then, I saw him glance down at his watch, the faint smile slipping from his face as his expression shifted. He turned his gaze back to the crowd, a focused, alert look settling over him that I knew too well. I could almost feel the shift in the air around him, the way he subtly straightened, scanning our surroundings with a precision that brought out that protective edge I admired in him.
"Hold on, Wooyoung." His voice was quieter, lower, as he scanned the busy shopping center around us. "We're waiting here for a moment. My bodyguards should be catching up soon."
I stopped beside him, tilting my head in protest, but his expression was firm, the familiar crease forming between his brows as he surveyed the bustling area around us. Despite the ease with which he'd been carrying bags just moments before, I could sense the shift, the way he shifted effortlessly from playful to vigilant. San was always on high alert, no matter how casually we strolled or how at ease he seemed. And I knew, for him, being out here—vulnerable in a crowded, unfamiliar place—was not just a casual outing.
"Are we expecting trouble?" I asked lightly, trying to keep my tone casual as I leaned a little closer to him.
"Not if I can help it," he replied, his voice a soft, resolute murmur as he glanced down at me, his hand reaching out instinctively to rest on my shoulder. "But I'd rather not take any chances. This place is...busy, and you're a distraction." His lips quirked into a faint smirk, though his eyes held an intensity that reminded me of everything we'd just shared.
I couldn't resist needling him a bit. "Oh, so I'm a distraction, am I?"
He didn't miss a beat, his eyes narrowing slightly in that familiar, playful warning. "More than you realize."
