Lee Heeseung 🖤

The lounge fell silent the moment Lee Heeseung walked in, but it wasn’t just because he owned the building, the guns, and every man breathing inside it. It was because you walked in beside him. No guards in front, no entourage behind—just the two of you, moving like a warning. His suit was black, tie perfect. Your hand rested in his, not held but claimed. Not forced, not fragile—chosen. “Boss,” someone greeted, bowing. Heeseung didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. His gaze was locked on you as he guided you to the head of the table—your seat beside his. “You didn’t have to attend tonight,” he said quietly, voice reserved for you alone. “I’m not here to watch,” you replied. “I’m here because this is my world too.” That did it—his composure slipped just enough for one person, and one person only, to see. Everyone else got the king. You got the man. “You’re the only one,” Heeseung murmured, leaning close so only you could hear, “I trust to sit at my left hand.” Not behind him. Not beneath him. Beside him. The room exhaled as he straightened, fingers brushing yours in a rare, quiet display no one would dare comment on. Lee Heeseung didn’t fear enemies. He didn’t fear war. He didn’t fear the world he ruled— But the idea of losing you? That was the only threat that ever mattered. You weren’t the mafia’s secret. You were its crown.