authors POV :~

The smell of noodles always stayed on Smith’s clothes after helping in his parents’ shop. The shop was small, with only a few tables, and his parents worked hard every day just to earn enough for rent and food.

Smith was in college, the first in his family to study that far. But the tuition was expensive, and every month his parents struggled. He felt guilty whenever he saw how tired they were.

At college, his friend Adrian noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

“Smith, you look half-dead,” Adrian said, laughing. “You can’t keep going like this.”

Smith gave a small smile. “I’ll be fine. I just… don’t want to waste my parents’ efforts.”

Adrian leaned closer. “Then maybe you need another job. I know someone who can introduce you to work. The pay is very good.”

Smith frowned. “What kind of job?”

Adrian lowered his voice. “Have you heard of Mark?”

Smith thought for a moment. He had heard whispers. Mark was a dangerous man, a mafia boss who controlled many parts of the city. People feared him.

“You want me to work for him?” Smith asked.

Adrian nodded. “It’s risky, yes. But if you’re loyal, he takes care of his people. One month’s pay could cover your tuition. Maybe even help your parents with the shop.”

That night, Smith returned home. His mother gave him a bowl of noodles and smiled, though he could see the tiredness in her face. His father had already fallen asleep on a chair.

Smith ate slowly. Adrian’s words echoed in his mind.

Mark…

The name felt heavy. Dangerous. But also full of promise.

---

The next morning, Smith left for class but couldn’t focus. His professor’s voice blurred into the background. Numbers and notes on the board looked meaningless. His mind kept going back to the same thought: money.

He needed it. Badly.

When the lecture ended, Adrian walked beside him. “Still thinking about it?” he asked.

Smith sighed. “It sounds insane. Why would Mark even want someone like me?”

Adrian smirked. “You’re sharp, you don’t panic easily, and you keep secrets. That’s enough. He doesn’t like cowards, and he doesn’t like liars. But if he sees something in you, he’ll keep you close.”

Smith stayed quiet. Deep down, he knew he was already leaning toward saying yes. His family needed him. He couldn’t stand watching his parents struggle anymore.

Adrian stopped walking. “I can set up a meeting. But Smith… once you enter Mark’s world, you can’t go back. Are you sure?”

Smith clenched his fists. Fear crawled through him, but he forced himself to speak.

“Yes. Set it up.”

Adrian studied him for a moment, then nodded. “Alright. Tomorrow night. Be ready.”

That evening, Smith returned home to the sound of boiling broth and the clatter of bowls. His mother was humming softly while serving noodles to a customer. His father gave him a tired smile from behind the counter.

Smith looked at them, his chest tightening. I have to do this. For them.

He didn’t know what kind of man Mark really was. He didn’t know if he would survive working for him. But he had already made his choice.

Tomorrow night, Smith would step into the world of the mafia.

And nothing would ever be the same.

—.

Smith could not sleep.

He lay on his small bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, listening to the soft hum of the fan. His parents were already asleep in the next room, their tired breaths drifting through the thin wall.

But Smith’s eyes refused to close. His heart kept beating faster whenever he thought about tomorrow.

Mark.

The name felt sharp, like a knife pressed against his skin.

What kind of man was he really? People said he was cold. That he had no mercy. That one wrong word could end your life if you stood in front of him.

And Smith… Smith was just an ordinary boy. A poor student who smelled of noodles, with nothing special about him. What if Mark looked at him and saw nothing useful? What if he laughed, or worse—got rid of him?

Smith turned on his side, hugging his pillow. He thought of his parents. His mother’s tired smile, his father’s calloused hands. The old shop that was falling apart.

He whispered to himself, “I can’t back down. Not now.”

Even if it was dangerous. Even if it meant walking into a world of blood and shadows.

---

The next day, Smith tried to act normal. He went to class, took notes, even joked a little with Adrian. But inside, he was a storm. His hands felt clammy, his throat dry.

When evening came, he went home and stood in front of the small mirror in his room. He had never cared much about his appearance, but tonight felt different. If he was going to meet a man like Mark, he couldn’t look weak.

He combed his messy hair, straightened his worn-out shirt, and put on the cleanest pair of jeans he owned. He still looked simple, ordinary, but at least he looked neat.

He stared at his reflection. “Don’t be scared,” he told himself quietly. “Just… don’t show fear.”

But his eyes betrayed him. They looked nervous, unsure.

A knock came at his door. His mother peeked in. “Smith, are you going out?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… a part-time job my friend told me about.”

Her face brightened a little. “A job? That’s wonderful. Be careful, okay?”

Smith nodded. He didn’t tell her the truth. How could he? How could he explain that he was going to meet a mafia boss?

When he stepped outside, the air felt colder than usual. The streets were quiet. Adrian was waiting at the corner, hands in his pockets.

“You ready?” Adrian asked.

Smith swallowed hard. “I… I think so.”

Adrian gave him a firm look. “No. You need to be sure. Mark doesn’t like hesitation. When you meet him, speak clearly. Be respectful. And whatever you do, don’t lie.”

Smith nodded again, this time with more determination. His heart was still racing, but his decision was made.

Tomorrow, his life as a normal college student would end.

Tonight, he would meet Mark.

—

Adrian led Smith through streets he had never walked before. The lights grew fewer, the alleys darker. The city felt different here—quieter, but heavier, as if every shadow was watching.

Finally, they stopped in front of a tall building. From the outside, it looked abandoned, with broken windows and faded paint. But Smith could see the truth the moment he spotted two men in black standing by the door, their eyes sharp, their hands resting near their belts.

“This is it,” Adrian whispered.

Smith’s mouth went dry.

One of the guards glanced at Adrian, then at Smith. After a silent moment, they stepped aside, letting them in.

Inside, the building was nothing like its outside. The air smelled faintly of smoke and leather. The hall was wide, with dim golden lights on the walls. Several men sat at tables, talking in low voices, their laughter dark and sharp. Guns gleamed on the table beside bottles of whiskey.

Smith kept his head down as Adrian led him deeper. His heart thudded so loudly he was afraid others could hear it.

Then he saw him.

At the far end of the hall, sitting on a black leather couch, was Mark.

Even from a distance, Smith felt the weight of his presence. Mark didn’t need to speak to command the room. His men stood around him like shadows, but it was clear he was the center of gravity.

He wore a dark suit, sharp and clean. A glass of wine rested in his hand. His posture was relaxed, but there was nothing soft about him. His gaze was calm, cold, the kind of gaze that could strip a person bare.

Smith froze for a moment. His breath caught.

So this is him…

He had heard whispers, stories. But none of them captured the real thing. Mark looked powerful. Dangerous. Untouchable.

Adrian leaned closer and whispered, “Don’t stare too long. He notices everything.”

Smith quickly lowered his eyes, pretending to look at the floor. But he could still feel it—the heavy atmosphere around the man, like a storm waiting to break.

They didn’t go to him immediately. Adrian stopped near the side of the room, where they had to wait. Smith’s palms were damp. His knees felt weak, but he forced himself to stand straight.

Minutes passed like hours. Smith stole a glance once, just once.

Mark was speaking to one of his men now. His voice was too low for Smith to hear, but it was calm, smooth, almost casual. And yet, the man he spoke to looked tense, nodding quickly as if afraid of making a mistake.

Smith’s stomach tightened. What will he see when he looks at me? Just a poor boy? Or someone worth keeping alive?

Finally, one of the guards stepped forward. His voice was sharp.

“Boss will see you now.”

Smith’s heart stopped.

Adrian gave him a small nod. “This is it. Don’t mess up.”

Smith swallowed hard and took a step forward. His feet felt heavy, but there was no turning back.

For the first time, Mark’s eyes lifted and locked onto him.

Cold. Sharp. Like blades in the dark.

Smith felt as if the world itself had gone silent.

—.

Smith forced his feet to move. Each step felt heavy as he walked closer to the man everyone feared.

Mark’s eyes lifted, locking on him. Cold. Sharp. Unmoving.

“Come closer,” Mark said. His voice was deep, calm, but it held the weight of command.

Smith swallowed and stepped forward until he stood just a few feet away. He kept his head slightly bowed, his hands stiff at his sides.

Mark studied him in silence for a long moment. Then he spoke.

“You’re Adrian’s friend?”

“Yes, sir,” Smith answered, his voice quiet but steady.

Mark’s lips curved, not quite a smile. “Sir?” He leaned back slightly, swirling the wine in his glass. “Do I look like a school teacher to you?”

Smith froze, unsure of what to say.

The air in the room grew heavier. Adrian tensed beside him, but didn’t dare interrupt.

Finally, Smith forced out, “No… Boss.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave a slow nod, as if testing him.

“Better.”

He set his glass down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His gaze never left Smith.

“Tell me. Why are you here? Do you even know what kind of place this is?”

Smith felt his throat tighten, but he forced himself to speak. “I… I need work. I’m not afraid to work hard.”

Mark tilted his head, studying him. “Work?” His voice held a hint of amusement. “This isn’t a noodle shop, boy. This is my world. Once you step in, there’s no way back. People obey me, or they end up buried in the ground. Do you understand?”

Smith’s chest tightened. He wanted to look away, but he didn’t. “I understand.”

For a moment, Mark said nothing. Then, suddenly, he stood. He was taller than Smith expected, his presence filling the space between them. He walked slowly around Smith, circling him like a predator.

“You’re not much,” Mark said softly, almost to himself. “Poor, ordinary, soft hands. You look like someone who’s never held a knife.”

Smith’s fists clenched at his sides, but he stayed silent.

Mark stopped in front of him again, eyes sharp as blades. “Then tell me, Smith. Why should I keep you alive? Why shouldn’t I tell my men to throw you out now?”

The room was silent. Every man watching was waiting to see how Smith would answer.

Smith’s heart raced. His whole body wanted to shake, but he forced himself to meet Mark’s gaze for the first time. His voice was quiet, but firm.

“Because I won’t betray you. No matter what job you give me, I’ll do it.”

For the first time, Mark’s expression shifted. Just slightly. His lips curved into something unreadable.

Silence hung heavy in the air. Then Mark gave a low chuckle, cold and sharp.

“Interesting.”

He stepped back and sat down again, picking up his glass. “We’ll see if your words mean anything.”

Smith’s knees felt weak, but he stayed standing, waiting.

Mark raised his glass, looking at him over the rim. “Welcome to my world, Smith.”

—