Malkuku
People love to romanticize the mafia.
They write stories where a killer becomes gentle, where bloodshed is forgiven because of love, where darkness magically turns into light.
But reality is crueler.
A mafia who isn't a villain would never be called mafia at all-he'd be a hero, a soldier, a savior.
Joong is not a savior.
He is a psycho. A man who kills with ease, who whistles before he strikes, who laughs when the world trembles. His hands are soaked in blood, and he has no intention of washing them clean.
And then there's Dunk.
A photographer. A painter. A boy who carries sunlight in his smile and dignity in his heart. A boy too soft for this world, too pure for a monster's gaze. But fate-or maybe cruelty-places him in Joong's path.
The moment Dunk's lens captures him, it is already too late. Joong sees beauty he cannot unsee, perfection he cannot release. His obsession takes root like poison, twisting love into possession, tenderness into torture.
This is not a love story where redemption saves.
This is the story of a killer who found his masterpiece and decided it would belong only to him.
"WHEN A KILLER BEHOLDS HIS ULTIMATE MASTERPIECE, LIBERATION FADES INTO IMPOSSIBILITY."