2. SNU

Devin sank into the sofa on the opposite side of the lavish living room, his posture tired, annoyed. He didn’t even bother looking at his mother directly.

“Why are you here?” he asked, voice low and cold.

Yoon Seo-jin, sharp in her tailored black suit, crossed one leg over the other. Her glare was sharp enough to cut glass.

“We were supposed to meet with the Mexican mafia leader today,” she replied.

Devin scoffed and turned his face away, jaw tightening.

“Why don’t you deal with it on your own?” he muttered.

Seo-jin’s expression hardened instantly. She stood up abruptly, her voice rising.

“So what will you do instead, huh? Sit here like a useless piece of trash?!”

Devin’s eyes darkened as he slowly turned back toward her. His tone dropped even lower, laced with quiet fury.

“Fine. I’m useless now,” he said. “Then leave. I want some rest.”

Without warning, Seo-jin grabbed the glass sitting on the table and hurled it at him.

Devin shifted slightly—just enough. The glass crashed into the wall behind him and shattered into pieces.

“Madam!” her secretary called out, rushing forward to calm her down, placing a firm hand on her shoulder.

Seo-jin shrugged him off and glared at her son one last time.

“Forget it,” she snapped. “Let that brat rot in his failure. I’m done with him.”

She turned on her heels and stormed out, heels clicking sharply against the floor.

As silence returned to the room, one of Devin’s guards—tall, dressed in black, standing respectfully nearby—stepped closer.

“You should attend the meeting, Boss,” he said carefully.

Devin didn’t look at him. His jaw clenched again as he wiped a hand over his face in irritation.

“Don’t tell me what I should do.”

“I-I’m sorry, Boss.”

Devin stood up, ignoring the tension in the air. “I’m going to take a bath. Bring lunch to the kitchen.”

“Yes, Boss.”

He made his way up the stairs, entered his large bedroom, and threw his coat carelessly across the bed. Then he disappeared into the bathroom.

Water ran quietly behind the closed door. Steam filled the room.

After a while, Devin stepped out, hair wet, rubbing a towel over his head. He wore a black bathrobe, the sash tied loose around his waist. Still drying his hair, he walked barefoot to the open-concept kitchen downstairs, tossing the damp towel onto the island counter.

The guard was already there, placing lunch on the kitchen island—a clean, quiet space with modern finishes and minimal design.

Devin pulled out a stool and sat down, picking up his chopsticks and starting to eat in silence. The guard sat across from him, eating quietly as well.

Between bites, Devin muttered, “Make sure the old lady doesn’t get informed about everything that goes on.”

“Yes, Boss,” the guard said.

A moment later, the guard’s phone buzzed. He checked the message quickly, then stood and walked over to a side cabinet. Pulling out a sleek tablet, he placed it on the counter in front of Devin.

“Here is the information on Lee Soo-ah.”

Still chewing, Devin reached for the tablet and tapped the screen. A profile popped up.

---

Name: Lee Soo-ah
Age: 20
Major: Fan Arts, Seoul National University (SNU)
Parents: Unknown
Siblings: Unknown

---

Devin’s brows slowly furrowed. He put the tablet down and glanced up at the guard, his tone sharp.

“This is what you call information?”

“I’m sorry, Boss,” the guard replied quickly. “Our contacts said they couldn’t find anything else. No family records, no address history before SNU. It’s like he appeared out of nowhere.”

Devin leaned back in his seat, visibly annoyed.

Devin leaned back in his chair, letting the tablet fall onto the table with a dull thud. He picked up his drink and downed the last of it before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Forget about him,” he muttered, voice flat. “He’s just some random kid.”

The guard hesitated, then nodded. “Understood, Boss. Madam Yoon said the meeting is scheduled for tomorrow. She expects you to be ready.”

Devin’s eyes narrowed. “I told you I’m not going to that meeting.”

“But—”

“No,” Devin cut him off sharply. “Those people make me sick. That woman makes me sick.”

The guard lowered his gaze, quietly reminding, “She is your mother, sir.”

Devin scoffed, pushing his plate away. “That doesn’t mean I have to be her puppet.”

Without another word, he stood up and headed to his bedroom. The guard didn’t follow.

Inside the room, Devin untied the bathrobe and let it drop to the floor. He was only wearing black briefs underneath. Moving with practiced ease, he grabbed a clean black shirt and tailored pants from the wardrobe, dressed quickly, then pulled on a charcoal-gray suit jacket. No tie—he didn’t bother with formalities unless he had to.

He walked back out, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. His voice echoed down the hallway.

“Let’s go.”

The guard followed without question. Both stepped outside. Devin lit a cigarette and made his way to the car.

He opened the driver’s door.

“Sir?” the guard asked, surprised. “Are you going to drive?”

“Yes,” Devin replied bluntly, already sliding into the seat.

The guard quickly got in on the passenger side, closing the door behind him.

“Where are we going?” he asked, glancing sideways.

Devin’s eyes didn’t leave the road. “No questions.”

The guard hesitated. “Should I inform Madam Yoon?”

Devin gave him a sharp look. “You tell her anything, and you walk back.”

“I won’t say a word.”

The engine roared to life, and Devin sped off into the city.

Minutes later, they pulled up in front of Seoul National University. Students moved across campus, some carrying portfolios, others chatting beneath trees. Banners hung on the gates announced an open art exhibition.

The guard looked around, confused. “Boss… why are we here?”

Devin stepped out, fixing his jacket. “I came to look at some art.”

He didn’t wait for a response.

The guard followed him through the front gate, still unsure why the head of a powerful Korean mafia was casually visiting an art school.

Inside one of the university’s halls, a temporary exhibition had been set up. Paintings, sketches, sculptures, and digital pieces lined the walls and displays. The atmosphere was quiet but alive with creativity. A few visitors walked slowly through the room, admiring the works.

Devin walked in, calm but alert. His eyes scanned the pieces one by one—his sharp gaze calculating, like he was looking for something specific.

The guard stood close but said nothing.

This wasn’t just a visit to see art.