Felix Lee, the name that made even the most hardened criminals cower. He wasn't just a mafia boss—he was an unrelenting storm. The kind that uprooted lives without mercy and left destruction in his wake. To him, emotions were a weakness, one he had extinguished long ago.
Minho, on the other hand, was everything Felix despised: fragile, powerless, and insignificant. His life was a cruel parody of existence. Bullied at school and abused at home, he had no refuge, no one to save him. When his parents fled the country, abandoning him to settle their debts with Felix's syndicate, Minho's fate was sealed.
Minho's life had always been a series of misfortunes. His parents despised him, bullies at school made him their favorite target, and now, abandoned by the very people who were supposed to protect him, he found himself a slave to a man who embodied terror.
Minho stood trembling at the gates of the sprawling estate, its imposing silhouette against the night sky sending shivers down his spine. His parents had abandoned him, pledging his life in exchange for their insurmountable gambling debt. Now, he belonged to Lee Felix, the infamous mafia boss with a reputation for bloodshed and cruelty.
When the heavy wooden doors opened, revealing a striking but emotionless Felix, Minho's heart sank.
"This is what they left me?" Felix muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "Fine. From now on, you'll work here to pay off their debt. Don't expect kindness."
Minho nodded, too scared to speak. His new life began with orders—endless chores, sleepless nights, and a silent promise of more suffering if he ever failed.
The harsh words and physical blows he endured from Felix were nothing new—his parents had trained him well for a life of misery.
From that day, Minho became a ghost in the mansion, bound by chains of servitude. His life revolved around Felix's whims—waking him, preparing his meals, cleaning the house, and completing tasks that left him no time for himself. Felix demanded perfection, and Minho often paid the price for falling short.
"Do it again," Felix would snap if the breakfast wasn't to his liking. "And don't waste my time."
Minho didn't complain. He didn't cry. He simply obeyed, even as exhaustion gnawed at him.
One fateful evening, Minho collapsed on the couch, overwhelmed by sleep after another grueling day. He hadn't prepared dinner. Felix returned to an empty table, his fury boiling over.
"You dare to neglect your duties?" Felix roared, dragging Minho to his feet. His grip was unrelenting, bruising. "You think you can live here for free?"
Minho flinched, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean to... I was just—"
A harsh slap silenced him. "There are no excuses in my world," Felix hissed, leaving Minho to pick himself up, shattered and humiliated.
The next day, Minho returned home from school late, his head bleeding from a particularly vicious attack by his classmates. Felix waited, rage simmering as the clock ticked. But when the door creaked open, and Minho stumbled inside, Felix froze.
Blood matted Minho's hair, his uniform was torn, and his usually lifeless eyes held an unfamiliar sheen of pain. Felix rushed to him just as Minho collapsed into his arms.
