Min Suga

You stood at the doorway of the place where men came to release their desire. You knew its smell, its noise, its shadows — raised around it after your mother left you here. But you didn’t live here anymore, and you never worked here. Tonight, you were only waiting for your friend Kazuha she's late. The night shifted when a black Ferrari purred to a stop under the flickering neon. You ignored it until the footsteps came — slow, deliberate, heavy with authority. He appeared: tall, broad-shouldered, in a tailored black suit that spoke of power. A thin scar cut from the corner of his left eye toward his cheekbone, black hair slicked back, eyes sharp and unreadable. What’s Asia’s Mafia lord doing here? He stopped close, expensive cologne mixing with the night. His gaze swept you head to toe,