The bell above the shop door chimed cheerfully, a stark contrast to the gloomy February afternoon outside. Rain pattered against the windows of "Blooming Days," the small flower shop nestled between a bakery and a bookstore on a quiet street in Seoul.

Min-ji looked up from the bouquet of white lilies she was arranging, a practiced smile already in place. "Welcome to Blooming Days. How can I help—"

The words died on her lips when she saw who had entered.

It wasn't a customer seeking a last-minute Valentine's gift or anniversary bouquet. Instead, two men in impeccably tailored black suits stood just inside the doorway, their expressions impassive. The taller one scanned the shop with calculated precision, while the shorter one kept his gaze fixed on her.

Min-ji's fingers tightened around the stem of a lily, pricking her thumb on a thorn she'd missed. A drop of blood welled up, staining the pristine white petal.

"Min-ji Park?" the shorter man asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

She nodded, setting down the half-finished arrangement. "Yes, that's me. Are you looking for flowers for a special occasion?" Her voice remained steady despite the unease crawling up her spine.

The men exchanged glances.

"Our employer would like to speak with you," the taller one said, his voice deep and emotionless.

Min-ji wiped her hands on her apron, leaving a small crimson smear. "I'm sorry, but I'm in the middle of running my shop. Perhaps they could call for an appointment regarding a floral arrangement?"

The shorter man's lips twitched in what might have been amusement. "It's not about flowers, Miss Park. Mr. Jeon specifically requested your presence."

The name sent ice through her veins. Jeon. Everyone in Seoul knew that name, whispered in hushed tones. Jeon Enterprises publicly fronted as a legitimate business conglomerate, but rumors persisted of their iron grip on the city's underworld.

"There must be some mistake," Min-ji said, backing up until she felt the workbench press against her lower back. "I don't know any Mr. Jeon."

"Nevertheless, he knows you," the taller man replied. "And when Mr. Jeon requests something, it's not actually a request."

Min-ji glanced at the phone on the counter, calculating the distance.

"I wouldn't," the shorter man warned, noticing her gaze. "We're not here to harm you, Miss Park. But we are instructed to bring you to Mr. Jeon today. You can come willingly and with dignity, or..." He left the alternative unspoken.

Min-ji straightened her shoulders. Twenty-five years of life had taught her that showing fear rarely improved a situation.

"I need to close the shop properly," she said. "And I should change out of my work clothes."

The men looked at each other again, having one of those silent conversations that seemed to pass between people accustomed to working together.

"You have fifteen minutes," the taller one finally conceded. "We'll wait."

With trembling hands that she fought to steady, Min-ji locked the register, switched the sign to "CLOSED," and retreated to the small back room that served as both office and occasional changing area. Her mind raced through possibilities, each more terrifying than the last.

Why would Jeon—presumably Jeon Jungkook, the current head of the family—want to see her? She was nobody. Just a florist who had inherited her parents' small shop after their car accident three years ago. She paid her taxes, kept to herself, and never got involved in anything illegal.

The only connection she could think of was...

No. It couldn't be about Hae-won. Her sister had been missing for two months now, after getting involved with someone she refused to name. The police had been useless, claiming that at twenty-two, Hae-won was an adult who had likely run off with a boyfriend.

Min-ji had known better. Her sister wouldn't just disappear without a word.

She changed quickly from her floral-patterned work dress into jeans and a simple blue sweater, then slipped her phone into her pocket and grabbed her coat and purse. Whatever was happening, she'd face it head-on. For Hae-won, if nothing else.

When she reemerged, the men stood exactly where she'd left them.

"I'm ready," she said, lifting her chin slightly.

The shorter man gestured toward the door. "The car is waiting."

Outside, a sleek black sedan with tinted windows idled by the curb. The taller man opened the rear door, and Min-ji slid inside, her heart hammering against her ribs. The interior smelled of expensive leather and faint cologne.

As they pulled away from Blooming Days, Min-ji watched her little shop disappear around the corner. A sense of finality washed over her, as if she were seeing it for the last time.

---

The Jeon family compound sprawled across a hillside overlooking Seoul, a modern fortress of glass, steel, and concrete, surrounded by meticulously landscaped gardens and a high wall. Security cameras tracked their car's progress through massive gates and up the winding driveway.

Min-ji had seen the estate from a distance—everyone in Seoul had—but being brought inside the gates felt like crossing into another world. A world where men like Jeon Jungkook held power over life and death.

The car stopped at the entrance to the main house, a contemporary mansion with clean lines and vast windows. The taller man opened her door, and Min-ji stepped out, tilting her head back to take in the imposing structure.

"This way," the shorter man said, leading her up wide stone steps to a door that opened automatically before they reached it.

Inside, the aesthetic was minimalist luxury—open spaces, neutral tones, and strategically placed art pieces that probably cost more than Min-ji's entire shop. Their footsteps echoed on marble floors as they led her through a series of hallways.

They stopped before a set of double doors made of dark wood.

"Wait here," the shorter man instructed before knocking twice.

voice from within—deep, commanding—called out something Min-ji couldn't quite hear. The man opened one door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him, leaving Min-ji alone with the taller guard.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. Whatever waited behind that door, she would face it with as much dignity as she could muster.

Minutes later, the door opened again.

"Mr. Jeon will see you now," the man said, standing aside.

Min-ji stepped into what appeared to be a spacious office. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Seoul, the city lights beginning to twinkle as dusk descended. A large desk of dark wood and steel dominated one end of the room, while a seating area with leather sofas occupied the other.

And there, standing with his back to her, gazing out at the city, was a figure she instantly recognized from countless news articles and business magazines.

Jeon Jungkook. Thirty years old. Heir to the Jeon empire after his father's mysterious death five years ago. Ruthless businessman by day, rumored crime lord by night.

He turned slowly, and Min-ji's breath caught.

The photographs hadn't done him justice. Tall and broad-shouldered, with features that seemed carved from marble—high cheekbones, straight nose, full lips pressed into a firm line. His dark hair was pushed back from his forehead, revealing intense eyes that fixed on her with unsettling focus.

He wore a black suit that fit his frame perfectly, no tie, the top buttons of his white shirt undone to reveal a glimpse of collarbone adorned with intricate tattoos that disappeared beneath his clothing.

"Min-ji Park," he said, his voice deeper and smoother than she had imagined. He didn't phrase it as a question.

Min-ji forced herself to meet his gaze. "Yes. And you're Jeon Jungkook."

A flicker of something—amusement, perhaps—crossed his expression. "You don't seem intimidated."

"I'm terrified," she admitted honestly. "But showing it won't help me."

He studied her for a moment longer, then gestured to one of the sofas. "Sit."

It wasn't an invitation; it was a command. Min-ji complied, perching on the edge of the sofa, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Jungkook didn't sit. Instead, he moved to a bar cart, poured amber liquid into two crystal glasses, and brought one to her.

"Drink," he said, offering the glass.

Min-ji shook her head. "No, thank you."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "It's not poisoned, if that's your concern."

"It's not. I simply don't drink with strangers who have me brought to them against my will."

Jungkook's lips curved into something adjacent to a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. He set the glass on the coffee table in front of her and took a sip from his own.

"Do you know why you're here, Min-ji?" He spoke her name with a peculiar emphasis, as if testing how it felt on his tongue.

"No," she answered truthfully. "I can't imagine what business the head of Jeon Enterprises would have with a florist."

He circled around the sofa, his movements predatory and gr

aceful. "Your sister, Hae-won. You've been looking for her."

Min-ji's heart stuttered. "You know where she is? Is she okay?"