The summer sky stretched wide over Busan, glowing with the orange of a setting sun. The air smelled faintly of salt from the nearby sea, and the faint laughter of children echoed across the neighborhood park.

A boy of eight, small but sharp-eyed, stood near the swing set. His black hair fell into his eyes, and though his lips curled into a mischievous grin, his gaze carried an unusual seriousness for someone so young. This was Park Jimin, the only son of the infamous mafia leader, Park So Joon. Even at his age, whispers followed him—rumors that he was the heir to a dangerous empire.

But to Rose, the girl beside him, none of that mattered. She was seven, with hair the color of chestnut and eyes that sparkled as though they carried pieces of the ocean. She only knew Jimin as her best friend—the boy who sneaked her candy when she was sad, who shielded her from bullies, who always showed up when she cried.

“Jimin,” Rose called, balancing carefully on the swing as she kicked the ground, “do you really have to leave tomorrow?”

Jimin looked down at the grass, silent. His father had told him they would move to Seoul, closer to the Park family’s main estate. It wasn’t just moving houses; it was moving into a different world—one filled with danger, violence, and power struggles. He didn’t want Rose anywhere near it.

He clenched his fists and finally looked at her, his voice low but firm.

“I don’t know when I’ll see you again… but promise me something, Rose.”

She tilted her head. “Promise what?”

“That you’ll never forget me.” He stuck out his pinky finger. “Even if I disappear for years… even if people say bad things about me… you’ll wait, right?”

Rose smiled, her innocence shining through the fading sunlight. She hooked her tiny finger with his.

“I promise. Forever and always.”

The moment lingered between them, fragile and eternal.

But in the shadows of the park, two men in black suits stood watching—guards sent by Jimin’s father. One of them spoke quietly into a communicator, “The boy is ready. The boss wants him back home.”

Jimin noticed them, his small jaw tightening. He turned back to Rose, his heart pounding with a fear he couldn’t name. “Rose… no matter what happens, you have to be strong. Stronger than anyone. Don’t let anyone scare you, okay?”

She blinked, confused, but nodded. “You’re acting weird, Jimin.”

Before he could say more, one of the guards stepped forward. “Young Master, it’s time.”

Jimin’s eyes darkened. He wanted to run, to stay with Rose, but he was his father’s son—and duty was already pulling him away. He gave Rose one last look, memorizing her smile.

As he walked away, Rose called after him, her voice trembling, “Don’t break the promise, Jimin!”

He didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

The wind carried her words as he disappeared into the black car, the door slamming shut like the end of an era.

Rose stood alone in the park, clutching her chest where her heart ached. Somewhere deep inside, she knew their story wasn’t over. The promise had been made.

But neither of them knew what the future would carve for them—that the boy she loved would return not just as her childhood friend, but as the feared Mafia Prince.

And when he did… the world around them would never be the same.

📖 Suspense Ending of Chapter 1 → Rose watches the car vanish, but from inside, Jimin whispers to himself: “I’ll come back for you, Rose. Even if I have to fight the whole world.”

The mansion of the Park family stood like a fortress on the hills of Seoul—its tall iron gates guarded by men in black, its walls echoing with whispers of power and fear. It wasn’t just a home. It was the throne of an empire that ruled in shadows.

Inside the grand hall, Park Jimin, now sixteen, knelt before his father. His dark hair fell across his forehead, sweat dripping down his temple from the training he had just finished. His body bore bruises from the harsh lessons of survival, but his eyes shone with an unyielding fire.

Park So Joon, tall and commanding, circled his son like a predator. His deep voice cut through the silence.

“Do you understand what it means to be my heir, Jimin?”

Jimin kept his head bowed. “Yes, Father.”

“No,” his father’s voice thundered, slamming a cane against the marble floor. “You don’t understand yet. To be my son is to carry the weight of blood, loyalty, and fear. Weakness has no place in this family. The day you show mercy is the day you die.”

Jimin clenched his fists against the cold floor. He hated these words. He hated the endless nights of combat training, the business meetings filled with lies and threats, the constant demand to bury his emotions. Yet, he endured. Because deep inside, a single memory kept him alive—the image of a little girl by the swings, smiling at him with unshakable trust.

Rose.

When his body ached from fights, when his soul felt caged by the mafia’s cruelty, her name whispered in his mind like a prayer. He hadn’t seen her in years, but his promise remained unbroken. He was living for the day he could return to her.

“Stand up,” Park So Joon ordered.

Jimin rose. His father’s eyes, sharp as blades, studied him with pride and cruelty. “You’ll accompany me tonight. A meeting with the rival families. It’s time they see who will rule after me.”

A ripple of unease coursed through Jimin. He had attended meetings before, but this was different. Tonight, his father was presenting him not as a boy—but as the future mafia prince.

The black cars lined up outside the mansion. Jimin adjusted the collar of his suit, his reflection staring back from the tinted glass of the window. He looked like a man already, but inside, he was still just a boy longing for something pure.

The convoy moved into the city, headlights slicing through the darkness. In the back seat, Jimin’s phone buzzed. For a moment, his cold mask cracked. He pulled it out, staring at the contact name—Taehyung.

“Yo, Jimin. You alive in that golden cage? Don’t forget, you still owe me ramen.”

Jimin almost smiled. Kim Taehyung, his childhood best friend, was the only person outside the mafia who still treated him like a normal boy. Taehyung didn’t fear the Parks’ reputation, didn’t bow to their power. With him, Jimin could breathe.

But the message faded quickly, and the weight of the night pressed down again.

The meeting hall reeked of cigar smoke and expensive liquor. Rival bosses sat around the long table, their eyes darting curiously toward Jimin. His father’s booming voice introduced him:

“This is my son. The future of the Park empire. Remember his face—because one day, it will be the last thing you see if you betray us.”

Laughter and murmurs filled the room, but beneath them was unease. Jimin felt every gaze burn into him. He kept his face calm, hiding the storm inside.

One of the rival bosses smirked. “A child? You expect us to bow to him?”

Park So Joon’s glare silenced the hall, but before he could respond, Jimin’s voice cut through the air—sharp, controlled, dangerous.

“Underestimate me,” Jimin said coldly, his eyes locking onto the man. “But do it only once. Because the next time you won’t have a tongue left to speak.”

The hall went quiet. His father’s lips curved into the faintest smile. For the first time, Jimin had spoken like a true heir.

That night, as the cars drove back, Jimin leaned against the window, staring at the endless lights of Seoul. The city looked alive, glittering with dreams he could never have. He pulled a small chain from his pocket—a faded bracelet with tiny beads. The only thing he still carried from his childhood.

“Rose…” he whispered to the night. “When I return, will you still be waiting for me?”

The streetlights flickered as the convoy passed, and in the shadows of a nearby alley, a pair of eyes watched him with dark curiosity. Cha Eunwoo, the ambitious rival, noted the heir’s presence with a dangerous smile.

“The prince has finally stepped into the game,” he murmured. “Let’s see how long he can protect what he loves.”

The city was alive with neon lights, the streets buzzing with people lost in their own hurried worlds. Among them walked a girl whose quiet grace seemed out of place in the chaos. Her long brown hair swayed gently with each step, and her eyes — clear, warm, and strong — carried the same spark they once held in childhood.

Rose.

She had returned to Seoul after years abroad, her heart pounding with memories she had tried but failed to bury. No matter how far she went, there was one name that lingered in every silence, one promise that never faded.

Jimin.

She wondered what had become of the boy she once knew. Was he still mischievous, still protective, still carrying that soft smile? Or had time changed him into someone she could no longer recognize?

Rose pushed the thought away as she entered a cozy café near the university. The smell of roasted coffee beans and warm bread wrapped around her, calming her nerves. She ordered a latte and sat by the window, unaware that fate had just set the stage.

Across the street, a black car came to a stop. Inside sat Park Jimin, now twenty-one. He was no longer a boy — his sharp jawline, tailored suit, and cold expression screamed authority. To the world, he was feared as the mafia prince. To his enemies, he was untouchable. But tonight, his eyes were heavy, his soul tired.

“Boss, should we wait outside?” one of his guards asked.

Jimin waved his hand. “I won’t be long.”

He stepped out, adjusting his coat, and for the first time in weeks, he felt the urge to walk freely, without the suffocating presence of guards. He needed air. He needed… something human.

His footsteps carried him into the very same café.

The bell above the door chimed. Rose lifted her head, and her breath caught in her throat.

It couldn’t be.

The man who walked in looked nothing like the playful boy she remembered. His presence was magnetic, his aura dangerous, commanding the attention of every customer. But when her gaze met his — when those dark eyes softened for a fraction of a second — she knew.

“...Jimin?” she whispered, almost afraid to believe it.

Jimin froze. The cup of coffee he was about to order slipped from his mind, his entire world narrowing into the single voice he had longed to hear. Slowly, his head turned — and there she was.

Rose.

The girl from his memories, now grown, more beautiful than he had imagined.

For a heartbeat, he forgot he was the mafia’s heir. He was just a boy again, staring at his first love.

“Rose…” His voice broke, softer than he intended.

The café around them faded. Rose stood, her hands trembling as she stepped closer. “You’re really here… after all these years.”

Jimin’s throat tightened. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to tell her how every day apart felt like an eternity. But his body stayed frozen. Because in his world, love was a weakness — and weakness could get her killed.

“Why did you come back?” he asked instead, his tone sharper than he meant.

Rose flinched but smiled gently. “Seoul is my home. And… I wanted to see if you kept your promise.”

Jimin’s heart stopped. The pinky promise from their childhood echoed in his memory.

He looked away, hiding the storm in his eyes. “Some promises are dangerous, Rose.”

But Rose only tilted her head, her gaze steady. “And yet… you remembered.”

Before Jimin could reply, the café door slammed open. A man in a leather jacket stormed in, his eyes scanning the room before locking onto Rose.

“There you are,” the stranger sneered. “I told you not to walk alone at night.”

Jimin’s expression darkened instantly. His hand twitched toward the gun hidden under his coat, his entire being shifting into predator mode.

Rose paled. “Eunwoo…”

The name rolled off her tongue like poison.

Jimin’s jaw clenched. So this was Cha Eunwoo, the rival who had been circling his world. And now, he had dared to approach Rose.

The café went silent, tension thick in the air.