Rain painted the city black.
The glass walls of Rayden Black's penthouse reflected the red neon glow of the skyline, tracing sharp lines across his face as he stood with a glass of whiskey, watching the world below him shrink.
Meetings. Blood. Territory.
Nothing surprised him anymore.
Until that night.
A muffled sound echoed from the corridor of his private building light footsteps, hesitating, almost scared. Rayden's eyes sharpened. No one got this far unless he allowed it… or unless they were incredibly stupid.
He turned.
That's when he saw him.
A boy .. small, soaked from rain, wearing a slightly crumpled university uniform.
White shirt clinging to his skin. A thin tie hanging loose.
Hair messy.
Eyes wide.
And… smiling.
A soft, nervous smile.
"Um sorry… I think I'm lost…"
Rayden rarely blinked. He did now.
The boy was tiny. Cute.
A perfect kind of trouble.
"Lost?" Rayden's voice dropped dangerously low. "You're standing in the headquarters of the most ruthless man in the city."
The boy swallowed. "Ah… so I really took the wrong door."
Rayden walked closer. Slow. Predatory.
The boy stepped back instinctively, but behind him was the wall..cold glass, night city glowing behind him.
Rayden stopped inches away.
"Name."
"S-Smyle," he whispered.
Rayden tilted his head, examining him like something he wanted to keep.
"Smyle…" he repeated slowly.
A soft name for someone who looked like he'd break if Rayden touched him too hard.
But Rayden wanted to touch him anyway.
"You shouldn't be here."
"I know…" Smyle murmured, trembling slightly. "I - I'm sorry, sir."
"Sir?" Rayden chuckled. "Cute."
Smyle's cheeks turned red.
Rayden leaned in, lifting the boy's chin with two fingers.
Smyle froze—tiny breath caught between his lips.
"You walked into a wolf's den," Rayden murmured.
"And wolves don't let their prey leave so easily."
Smyle's heart pounded so loudly Rayden could hear it.
"But I'm not… prey…" Smyle whispered bravely, even though his voice shook.
Rayden's eyes darkened with interest.
"Oh?"
Dangerous. Amused.
"I like your attitude," Rayden said, thumb brushing Smyle's jaw.
"Try not to lose it. You'll need it around me."
Smyle's voice barely came out.
"W-Why?"
He smirked.
"You walked into a wolf's den," Rayden murmured, voice low and dangerous.
"And wolves don't let their prey leave easily."
Smyle blinked.
Then blinked again.
Then—
PUNCH.
His fist flew up and smacked Rayden right in the jaw.
Rayden actually stepped back.
Smyle shook his hand dramatically.
"Owww—why is your face built like a stone wall?!"
Rayden touched his jaw, eyes narrowing.
"…You hit me?"
"You were being weird!" Smyle snapped, rubbing his knuckles. "Who even talks like that? Wolves? Prey? Bro, what is this? A drama?"
Rayden stared, shocked for the first time in years.
Smyle squared his shoulders.
"Huh? You mad or something?"
Rayden's lips twitched.
Smyle stepped forward and poked his chest.
"You are NOT some police officer. And you are NOT some mafia boss."
He rolled his eyes.
"Why would I be scared of you, you dumbass?"
Rayden inhaled sharply.
No one—absolutely no one—had ever called him that.
The worst part?
He liked it.
Smyle kept ranting, hands flying in the air.
"If you try to touch my chin again, I swear I'll—"
Rayden grabbed his wrist.
Not hard.
Just enough to stop him.
And he leaned close, eyes dark, amused, and something else… something hungry.
"Oh, sweetheart…" Rayden murmured, voice dripping with danger and delight.
"You should be very scared of me."
Smyle scoffed loudly.
"Nope. Not scared. Just annoyed."
He pulled his wrist back.
"And I'm leaving."
He turned to walk—
Rayden caught his arm again.
"Let go," Smyle snapped.
Rayden's smirk deepened, slow and wicked.
"No."
Smyle glared up at him.
Rayden looked down at him.
The room filled with tension so thick it could snap.
Smyle huffed.
"I'm not your prey."
Rayden lowered his voice.
"Good," he whispered.
"Because I don't want prey."
He leaned closer, lips dangerously close to Smyle's ear.
"I want you."
Smyle froze.
Rayden smiled.
The kind of smile that meant trouble.
The kind that meant obsession.
The kind that meant Smyle was never leaving this place the same again.
Rayden's jaw still tingled from the punch.
Smyle stood there, shaking his stinging hand, huffing like an angry kitten—but with the confidence of someone who didn't realise he just hit the most feared man in the city.
Rayden was about to say something when—
BANG—!!
The glass door slammed open and three of Rayden's men rushed in, guns half-drawn, panic written all over their faces.
"BOSS—WE HEARD A NOISE—WHAT HAPPEN—"
They froze.
All three stared at Rayden.
Then at Smyle.
Then at Rayden again.
At Rayden's slightly reddened jaw.
At Smyle's raised fist.
One guard whispered, horrified:
"…Boss… did… did he just hit you?"....
Smyle blinked at the chaos.
"Uh—hi?"
Rayden sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Smyle crossed his arms.
"What?? I just punched him once. Calm down."
All three guards SHRIEKED.
"ONCE!?"
"ONCE!??"
"THIS KID IS A MONSTER—"
"I-AM I IN HEAVEN? IAM SEEING SPIRITS "
Other guards shouted : yes me too , yes me too because after this incident boss would have give him a good death .
They raised their guns to Smyle to shoot him...then-
Rayden cleared his throat.
Silence fell instantly.
"Leave," Rayden said coldly.
All guards: "YES SIR!!!"