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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I adjusted the cuffs of my shirt, casting one last glance at the hotel room door. Wooyoung was still sprawled out in bed, sheets tangled around him, his breathing deep and even. A small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. Leaving him there felt strange, but I knew he'd likely sleep soundly until I returned.
The drive to the meeting was quiet, giving me space to shift fully into focus. The Yakuza didn't take lightly to outsiders, especially ones seeking long-term alliances. But if last night's fight had proved anything, it was that I was serious about this partnership. There was respect there—mutual and necessary.
As I stepped into the sleek, dimly lit meeting room, I caught the subtle glances exchanged around the polished wood table. Nakamura, the head of this faction, acknowledged me with a slight nod from the head of the table. I returned it with a respectful nod of my own, conveying both acknowledgment and authority.
"Good morning, Choi," Nakamura greeted, a faint, almost unreadable smile on his otherwise stoic face. "The fight last night was... impressive," he continued in English, his tone carrying weight. "You've shown a level of control that is both valuable and rare."
I held his gaze, my expression calm, though I couldn't suppress a flicker of pride. "Your organization's reputation is equally impressive," I replied, my tone smooth, respectful. "Our alliance benefits both sides, but I assume we're here to discuss terms moving forward?"
The others around the table nodded in agreement, murmurs rippling through the room. Nakamura leaned back, crossing his arms with an assessing look. "Precisely. We value strength, but also loyalty. The continued partnership between The Black Phoenix Syndicate and our Yakuza relies on a clear understanding of those values."
I nodded, choosing my words with precision. "Loyalty is mutual. As long as the Yakuza respects our arrangement, you'll have my support—and the support of my people."
The meeting continued in this tense but respectful dance, a delicate negotiation of boundaries, security, and distribution. Nakamura spoke in English, expecting the same from me, and I matched him with careful intent. Every nuance, every subtle emphasis mattered, and we both knew it. This wasn't just about goods or territory—it was about the terms of a silent, powerful understanding.
Toward the end of the meeting, Nakamura's tone shifted, his gaze sharpening as he leaned forward slightly. "And about your... companion," he said, his voice cool but intrigued. "It's rare to see someone bring a partner along to these... gatherings. Does he understand the risks?"
I felt a slight tension rise in my chest but kept my expression even. "Wooyoung understands enough to know where to step back. He respects the boundaries of my business," I replied smoothly.
Nakamura nodded, a faint trace of amusement flickering in his expression. "Very well. Protecting what's ours is essential in our line of work. You may have your hands full with that one."
