CHAPTER ONE – THE KING OF THE STREETS

The city never slept.

Even at midnight, the streets of Manhattan pulsed with life—neon lights flickering against wet asphalt, the rumble of subway trains deep below, the hum of voices blending with car horns. But on the East Side, the city felt different. Darker. Here, the air smelled of gasoline, sweat, and the kind of desperation you couldn’t wash away.

Perched on the crumbling edge of a brick wall, Kim Taehyung sat like a king surveying his kingdom. His blond hair caught the faint glow of a streetlamp, and his sharp, catlike eyes moved constantly, calculating, always watching.

The gangs called him V. Some with respect. Most with fear.

At seventeen, he ruled the East Side not because he was the oldest or the strongest, but because he was the smartest. Fast hands, faster mind. In a city where one wrong move meant a bullet in the head, Taehyung never missed.

“Hyung,” a voice called nervously from below.

Taehyung didn’t look down immediately. He toyed with a cigarette between his fingers, watching the smoke curl lazily into the humid air. Finally, he tilted his head, glancing at the boy standing below.

It was Jihoon, one of his younger lookouts, his thin frame tense.

“Spit it out,” Taehyung said lazily.

“The Marquez crew is here,” Jihoon said, voice dropping. “They’re asking around. Looking for you.”

Taehyung’s lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Looking for me, huh? Bold of them.”

Jihoon swallowed. “Hyung… they’re armed.”

“Then we’ll just have to show them who they’re dealing with.” Taehyung flicked the cigarette away and jumped down from the wall in one fluid motion.

Before Jihoon could respond, a voice from the alley’s entrance cut through the night.

“Kim Taehyung?”

Taehyung turned, mildly curious.

Standing at the mouth of the alley was someone who looked like he had no business being there.

The boy was tall, maybe the same age as Taehyung, with soft dark hair that fell slightly over his eyes. His clothes were neat, casual but clean—completely out of place in this part of the city. A camera hung from his neck, his fingers gripping the strap tightly as if it were a shield.

He looked… innocent. Too innocent for these streets.

Taehyung arched a brow. “Depends who’s asking.”

The boy stepped forward hesitantly. “My name is Jeon Jungkook. I need to talk to you… it’s about something called White Eden.”

At that name, something flickered in Taehyung’s eyes—a quick flash of recognition, quickly buried under a smirk.

“White Eden?” Taehyung echoed casually, leaning back against the wall. “Never heard of it. And even if I had, why should I care?”

Jungkook’s grip on his camera tightened. “Because… the last person who said those words to me was shot. Right in front of me.”

Taehyung’s smile faded just slightly, his eyes narrowing in quiet interest.

“Brave of you to come looking for answers in my part of the city,” Taehyung said finally. “Brave… or stupid.”

Jungkook didn’t flinch. “Maybe both. But I can’t just walk away.”

For a long moment, Taehyung simply watched him, his sharp gaze unreadable.

Then Jihoon’s voice cut through the tension.

“Hyung!”

Three shadows appeared at the far end of the alley.

The Marquez gang.

.

.

.

.

The three men from the Marquez crew strode into the alley, their boots splashing through shallow puddles. All of them wore leather jackets with a red snake emblem stitched onto the sleeves.

The leader—a tall man with a jagged scar across his jaw—grinned when he saw Taehyung.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the golden boy of the East Side,” the man sneered. His eyes flicked briefly to Jungkook, confusion crossing his face before he dismissed him. “Didn’t expect to find you babysitting.”

Taehyung straightened, his posture casual but his eyes sharp. “You’re a long way from your own turf, Marquez.”

Scar smirked, pulling out a pistol from his jacket. The metal glinted under the weak streetlight.

“Times change, V,” Scar said, his voice oily. “The East Side’s up for grabs, and you’re just a kid playing king. Hand over the territory, and maybe we won’t paint the walls with your blood.”

Jungkook tensed, his hands tightening around his camera strap.

But Taehyung just laughed—a low, almost amused sound that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Cute,” he said, tilting his head. “But you should’ve brought more men if you wanted to take my streets.”

Scar’s grin widened. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

He raised the gun.

The shot never landed.

In a blur of motion, Taehyung sidestepped, grabbing a loose brick from the ground and hurling it with perfect precision. The brick smashed into Scar’s wrist, sending the gun clattering to the pavement.

Before Scar could recover, Taehyung lunged forward. His elbow slammed into the man’s jaw, and Scar staggered backward, blood spraying from his split lip.

The second thug rushed in with a knife. Taehyung twisted out of the way, grabbing the man’s wrist and forcing it upward until a sickening crack filled the air. The knife clattered to the ground.

Then, with a swift knee to the thug’s stomach, Taehyung sent him crashing against the wall, unconscious.

The third thug froze, his eyes darting between his fallen comrades and Taehyung, who stood perfectly calm, breathing evenly.

Taehyung tilted his head, his blond hair falling slightly over his eyes as he smiled—a slow, dangerous smile that made the air feel colder.

“Run,” he said simply.

The man didn’t hesitate. He bolted into the darkness, his footsteps echoing as he disappeared.

Silence returned to the alley, broken only by Scar’s groans as he tried to crawl away. Taehyung crouched down, grabbing him by the collar.

“Tell your boss this is my city,” Taehyung said, his voice soft but deadly. “If you step into my streets again, you won’t walk back out.”

He shoved Scar to the ground, letting him crawl away like a beaten dog.

Only then did Taehyung turn to Jungkook.

Jungkook was frozen, his wide eyes locked on Taehyung. His camera strap hung loosely in his hands, forgotten.

“You…” Jungkook’s voice wavered slightly. “You could’ve been shot.”

Taehyung wiped the blood from his knuckles with a casual shrug. “If you’re scared of dying, you don’t last long here.”

Jungkook didn’t respond right away. He just kept staring, as if trying to reconcile the calm boy standing in front of him with the lethal fighter from moments ago.

Taehyung took a step closer, his sharp gaze softening slightly.

“You don’t belong in this world, do you?” Taehyung asked quietly.

Jungkook hesitated, but he didn’t look away. “Maybe not. But I still need to know what White Eden is.”

For a long moment, Taehyung said nothing. Then, slowly, he smirked.

“Brave,” Taehyung said, almost amused. “Stupid, but brave.”

Jungkook’s lips curved into a faint smile despite the tension.

Taehyung turned away, already walking toward the street. “Fine. You want answers? You’re coming with me. From now on, you don’t leave my sight.”

Jungkook blinked. “What? Why?”

“Because someone’s going to come after you again,” Taehyung said simply, not looking back. “And if you die before I find out what White Eden is… that’d be a waste.”

Jungkook swallowed hard, his pulse racing. But he stepped forward anyway, following Taehyung into the night.

“Come on, pretty boy,” Taehyung called casually over his shoulder. “Welcome to my world.”

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🔥 End of Chapter One

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