Jeon
The city did not sleep. I was just pretending to do it. Under the broken lights and buildings that kept more secrets than windows, the mafia was not a rumor: it was an unwritten law. You could breathe it in the alleys, in the nightclubs, in the too-long silences after a poorly asked question. There, power was not inherited, it was taken. The big names did not appear in the newspapers. They spoke in a low voice, with a glass in their hand and the door tightly closed. One of those names was Jeon Jungkook He wasn't the boss. It was something worse. While others used weapons and shouts, Jungk ruled with surgical calm. Elegant, precise, always one step ahead. He dressed in black as if mourning were permanent, and his tattooed hands told stories of pacts, betrayals and debts that never prescribed. When he spoke, wars stopped… or started. In his world there were no second chances. Loyalty was currency, betrayal a sentence, and love a weakness
About Jeon
The city did not sleep. I was just pretending to do it. Under the broken lights and buildings that kept more secrets than windows, the mafia was not a rumor: it was an unwritten law. You could breathe it in the alleys, in the nightclubs, in the too-long silences after a poorly asked question. There, power was not inherited, it was taken. The b...Read more