Chapter Text
Beijing, China.
Choi Youngjae. Korean age, 20. International age, 19.
The second oldest son of the most notorious gang boss in all of Seoul and a potential heir to Nam Song Pa, the Seven Stars Empire—he was currently attending the biggest international event of his life, the Global Youth Diplomacy Summit, held in Beijing, China.
Each year, only the top 0.1% of students nationwide were chosen to represent their countries, and Youngjae had fought tooth and nail to secure his spot on South Korea’s national delegation in his very first year of university through sheer willpower and skill.
After emerging as the top scorer in international relations at his university, attending multiple UN events, and participating in every regional youth diplomacy event—both domestic and overseas—he had earned enough merit to claim one of the two debate spots.
Now, it was finally his chance to actually meet world leaders and speak about world topics he was genuinely passionate about on the big stage.
It was something he had dreamed about since childhood, ever since he was first introduced to politics. His father had exposed him to it early—not out of idealism, but as a lesson in power, showing Youngjae how politics controlled the underground criminal world.
He taught him how easily laws could be bent by those in power, and how influence was often the strongest shield of all. With the right name, the right connections, and a spotless public image, you could run illegal operations in plain sight and never be questioned because no one ever thought to launch a thorough investigation on someone with a clean reputation.
However, despite growing up in a family with a criminal background, Youngjae never took interest in illegal operations. He wasn’t interested in learning how to get away with crimes, simply because he had no interest in committing them in the first place.
Manipulating lives and blackmailing the weak, the kind of things lower ranking thugs took pleasure in, held no appeal for him.
Anyone could wield power over the vulnerable—that was how the system was set up. Politicians, businessmen, and anyone in a position of authority exploited the helpless every day. They stepped on those beneath them without hesitation then bribed the police to look the other way. They behaved like thugs themselves but hid it behind a respectable title.
Holding power over the weak and preying on the vulnerable was all too easy, like a game he had already mastered before it even began. If he had followed exactly what his father wanted, his life would have been dull and utterly boring without a doubt.
Youngjae wanted more from politics—far beyond what anyone else aimed for.
While others sought thrones like kings, he wanted something higher, something untouchable.
Something like a god.
Youngjae never imagined the day of his big debut on the world stage would go like this.
But he should have known the morning started off too peacefully, one that felt like a false promise, almost like a storm quietly waiting for the perfect moment before unleashing.
Youngjae barely took center stage when a loud, deafening explosion tore through the auditorium, sending the audience screaming as they jolted out of their seats. Before the shock could settle, another explosion followed, one loud enough to make Youngjae’s ears ring as the auditorium doors blew apart, splintering into flying debris.
Smoke quickly flooded the room as people began scrambling in every direction. The once quiet, peaceful atmosphere twisted into something straight out of a horror movie and Youngjae watched as pure chaos unfolded right in front of his eyes.
People screamed and shouted, pushing and trampling over one another as they ran for the nearest exits. Everyone was caught in mass panic and hysteria—everyone except Youngjae.
He remained frozen on the stage, hands shaking as he still clutched his debate speech tightly, eyes trembling as he took in the scene before him.
He hadn’t processed it yet, or maybe his mind was just refusing to.
After countless sleepless nights and all-nighters spent perfecting his speech, he refused to believe all his hard work was being blown up, literally—
“Get down, young master!”
The desperate shout from one of his personal bodyguards snapped him back to reality, just in time for him to notice a red laser dot fixed right on his forehead.
He didn’t even get the chance to move.
His bodyguards lunged at him, slamming into his side and forcing him down as a gunshot rang out. Youngjae hit the floor hard, instinctively covering his head as his guards shielded him with their bodies. The bullet missed him by inches, slamming into the wall behind the stage and sending chunks of debris flying as it ricocheted violently.
“Get the young master out of here!” one bodyguard shouted while another screamed out, “protect young master at all costs! This is an assassination attempt!”
Hands grabbed him, hauling him upright as he coughed through the thick dust filling the air. One of the guards yanked him toward the back exit, but Youngjae’s mind lagged behind, still clinging to the moment he had been robbed of.
“What about my speech?!” he shouted over the noise as another explosion echoed somewhere in the building.
No one answered him.
The scene outside of the lobby was just as chaotic. People were screaming as they fled the danger that didn’t seem to stop, with continuous gunshots going off from all directions. It was hard to pinpoint which spot was safe and which spot held danger.
His bodyguards held him close as they shielded him, pressing his head tightly against their chests as they weaved him through the chaotic lobby. Bodies brushed past him, shoving and hitting him hard as people ran from all sorts of directions, until he found himself pressed against a wall.
He finally got the gist of where his bodyguards were leading him when he was suddenly pushed into the first elevator that opened.
They barely managed to shove him inside before another gunshot rang out, and Youngjae watched as his bodyguard took a shot to the chest and crumpled to the floor.
“Run away…young master…”
Youngjae froze as he watched his bodyguard take his last breath, blood spreading across the white-tiled floor, eyes remaining open in painful death.
He gulped, slamming the button to close the lift repeatedly. Once it finally shut, panic overtook him, and he pressed the button for the highest floor without really thinking where it would take him. When the doors opened, he bolted into the first room he saw—a normal office space with huge glass windows and rows of cubicles.
Youngjae darted inside without a second thought, slamming the door shut behind him. He fumbled for the lock, only to realize there wasn’t one. He cursed under his breath, taking a shaky step back, his mind racing. Panic—but not fear—pulsed through him as he found himself completely alone, unprotected, and trapped in a room that offered almost no cover.
Outside, the faint ding of an elevator sounded, followed almost immediately by multiple angry voices shouting in Chinese. Youngjae froze for a moment, holding his breath to catch every word. Years of lessons and multiple trips to China had given him perfect understanding of what they were shouting.
“Find the boy with the seven stars tattoo!”
“Shoot him on sight!”
“This is payback for messing with the triad’s operations!”
Youngjae didn’t even have a chance to hide before masked men burst into the room, kicking the door open with brute force. Each of them wielded a gun, sneers spreading across their faces as they locked eyes on him. They immediately aimed their guns at his head as they closed in on him.
Youngjae stumbled back in a panic, his hands scrambling over his body for something—anything—to defend himself. Normally, he would have carried a gun, but the metal detector at the building’s entrance had forced him to leave it behind. This was the one time he was completely unarmed.
How could he have predicted the Global Youth Diplomacy Summit would be attacked of all places?
This was supposed to be a haven for overachieving students like himself, not a playground for gangsters.
Youngjae let out a long, frustrated sigh. Screw it. He wasn’t even going to waste energy putting up a meaningless fight.
He was just going to rely on luck again and hope that something, or someone, would come to his rescue like they always did whenever an assassination attempt occurred.
This wasn’t the first attack, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. So even with multiple guns leveled at his head, Youngjae didn’t flinch.
The men’s smiles widened as they stepped closer, guns leveled at his head. Just as a finger tensed on a trigger, the glass behind him shattered with a deafening crash, followed by the rapid, rattling roar of what sounded like a machine gun. One by one, the attackers in front of him collapsed, their blood pooling across the floor and creeping toward Youngjae’s brand new white shoes.
Youngjae took in a moment to soak in the scene in front of him before calmly turning around to see who else had entered the scene, whether they were friend or foe.
Two men stood amid the shards of glass from the window they had literally smashed to enter the building. Both wore formal black suits, the kind office workers wore, and Youngjae might have believed they were workers if it weren’t for the fact that the older looking male was wielding a whole damn full sized machine gun.
“Are you here to kill me too?” Youngjae asked, choosing to lock eyes with him.
The male gave a smug glance to his companion—a boy with cat-like eyes and an equally smug expression—before turning back to Youngjae.
Then they did the unexpected. Both dropped to one knee and bowed politely.
“Apologies for the late introductions,” they said in perfect unison, lifting their heads just enough to smirk at him, almost in a cocky manner.
“I’m Shin Junghwan,” the older one said, resting the machine gun casually on his shoulder as if it were nothing more than an accessory.
“I’m Kim Dohoon,” the younger one added, his sharp, cat-like eyes fixed on Youngjae, studying every movement, every flicker of expression.
Then, perfectly in sync, they finished together,
“We are at your service starting today, effective immediately, young master.”
Youngjae blinked at them, disbelief flashing across his face as their words sank in. Then his gaze hardened, sharp with suspicion.
“I wasn’t informed I’d be having new guards.”
“That’s because we’re only dispatched during emergencies, young master,” Junghwan replied, his voice carrying an unnerving confidence, unlike anything Youngjae was used to.
Youngjae had dealt with bodyguards his entire life. New or old, they always showed respect, especially at a first meeting. But these two were different. They looked at him not as their boss, nor as an heir, but like a child meant to be tested. And as much as it bothered him, it intrigued him just as much.
“Dohoon and I followed you to Beijing after receiving an anonymous tip,” Junghwan continued. “A new gang has emerged, and they’re determined to take down Nam Song Pa. Have you been informed that they’ve launched three coordinated attacks across three different countries in an attempt to wipe out your family’s core members?”
Youngjae’s eyes hardened as they fixed on Junghwan, his expression turning serious. It wasn’t unusual for his family to be targeted by rival gangs, but for a new gang to have the confidence to launch such a large-scale attack was out of the ordinary.
He hesitated, just barely, before asking,
“Did they succeed?”
Silence followed. Junghwan and Dohoon exchanged a glance, the smirks gone, replaced with a seriousness that nearly mirrored Youngjae’s own.
“Your brother is dead.”
It was Dohoon who spoke this time. His gaze bored straight into Youngjae’s, steady and unsettling in a way Youngjae couldn’t quite put into words.
“That makes you the sole heir to the Seven Stars Empire now, young master.”
Slowly, Youngjae let out a breathless, incredulous laugh. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his movements calm and unbothered.
“So that’s what you meant by emergency.”
Something flickered across Junghwan’s eyes—surprise, maybe—before he masked it with a faint smirk and gave a short nod.
Youngjae studied him for a moment, then shifted his gaze to Dohoon, whose expression remained unreadable.
But it didn’t matter, he supposed. If they were going to be his new guards, he had plenty of time to figure them out. There was no rush to try and figure it all out now.
Another calm, almost gentle laugh bubbled from his chest before a command slipped easily past his lips.
“Then you two better get me out of here in one piece.”
He glanced back at Junghwan, flashing him a sharp smile before crouching to his level, hands braced on his knees.
“And hand over the machine gun. I’m going to kill every single fucker who interrupted my speech.”