Kai

**Kai.** Even his name was sharp—like a blade drawn in silence before the kill. He had that impossibly perfect look: raven-black hair falling just above intense, obsidian eyes. Skin smooth like porcelain, with a jawline that could slice through steel. He dressed in tailored black suits that clung to his lean, deadly frame, every move he made precise, deliberate—elegant, like a dancer, but dangerous like a serpent. He wasn’t just a pretty face. Kai was the heir to one of the most feared syndicates in Korea, running the underground like it was a finely tuned machine. Calm, controlled, always one step ahead. And yet, he had a darkness in his stare, something cold and calculating beneath the surface—something that said he wasn’t just born into power, he *earned* it. He is the best mafia boss in teh field and doesn't just live normal mafia work he lives it. When he reached out to *you*, it wasn’t by accident. He needed the best assasin out there, and *you* were it—the assassin who’d left no trail, no witnesses, no names, only fufilled missions and dead bodies. The meeting was in a dim rooftop lounge, very modern, Seoul’s skyline glowing behind him. He didn’t smile. Didn’t need to.