Nestled at the very heart of the prestigious Seoul International Institute of Education, where six towering university buildings encircled three equally expansive high school campuses, stood a structure that appeared modest in comparison-only four storeys tall. But what it lacked in height, it more than made up for in grandeur. The library, an architectural gem of glass and steel, shimmered softly under the golden hue of ambient lighting, a warm glow seeping through its transparent walls like candlelight behind frosted glass. It was a beacon of quiet intellect, standing still and serene amidst the elite academic sprawl owned and operated by none other than the Kim family-Korea's most powerful and enigmatic dynasty.
Each floor of the library stretched skyward with ceilings so high it gave the illusion of endless shelves. Books of every discipline filled the space-from introductory high school syllabi to the dense academic texts of university majors. It was a sanctuary of knowledge, an oasis meant for quiet reflection and disciplined study. And yet, on this final day of the season break, the library had become anything but.
The usual silence, cherished and sacred within those hallowed walls, was broken-again-by a burst of laughter. Kim Junseo, the youngest of the infamous Kim brothers, had just scribbled something into his notebook that sent him into uncontrollable giggles. Across the table lounged Kim Taeyang, his long legs propped up carelessly, a book he was supposed to have read lying upside-down and forgotten on his lap. He didn't even try to suppress the devilish smirk tugging at his lips as he peered over to see what had sparked Junseo's amusement.
The librarian, who had valiantly tried to maintain the sanctity of the library all week, pinched the bridge of her nose and excused herself to the bathroom-again-for what felt like the hundredth time. She didn't need to see the page to know the boys were up to no good. It was always them. The golden rule of silence had been shattered too many times to count.
Taeyang glanced at Junseo's notebook, where an elaborate plan had been sketched with near-professional precision. It wasn't an essay or a book report-far from it. Instead, it featured a comic-style blueprint of their next prank, with their ever-dramatic brother Dohyun as the unsuspecting victim. Junseo's artistic flair shone even in mischief. Every figure, every scene, was detailed with a mischievous charm that only made Taeyang laugh harder.
The entire reason they were even in the library was Haejoon's doing. Their most responsible brother had practically dragged them there, hoping that the serious ambiance might inspire them to finish their assignments. But clearly, Haejoon had overestimated their motivation and underestimated their ability to transform even the quietest corner of the campus into a chaos zone.
Still, deep down, they weren't slackers. Not truly. When the pressure mounted-when deadlines loomed like shadows at dusk-they would complete every pending task with the kind of efficiency that made their professors shake their heads in disbelief. They were the best, after all. The most feared names in Korea's underground. The heirs of the Kim empire. Cold-blooded. Calculating. Merciless.
And yet, here they were, sprawled in a library like ordinary students, procrastinating on schoolwork, whisper-laughing about pranks, clinging to the illusion that they were just like everyone else.
Because maybe-just maybe-they wanted to be.
Perhaps, beneath the steel and fire of who they were trained to be, they still longed for the comfort of a life untouched by blood. Perhaps they hoped that, in these small rebellions, in these last-minute essays and library pranks, they could taste something normal. Something gentle. Something that didn't demand a gun in their belt or blood on their hands.
Junseo snorted again, clutching his stomach, barely able to breathe as he slid his notebook toward Taeyang.
"Look at Dohyun hyung's face here-tell me he doesn't look exactly like that when he finds his shoes glued to the ceiling."
Taeyang leaned over, one eyebrow raised, and studied the sketch. Dohyun was drawn mid-scream, arms flailing, one shoe hanging by a string from a cartoonishly tall ceiling. He shook his head, lips twitching.
"You're an actual menace," Taeyang muttered, biting back a grin. "A talented one. But still-a menace."
Junseo beamed, proud. "Thank you. I try."
He leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, gaze drifting up to the tall ceiling, then down to the golden pool of light between them. His smile faltered just a little.
Taeyang caught it.
"You're doing it again," he said quietly.
Junseo blinked. "Doing what?"
"That thing where you pretend you're only laughing, but your eyes are somewhere else entirely."
Junseo rolled his eyes, but there wasn't much bite to it. "Deep, hyung. Did you swallow Haejoon hyung's diary or something?"
Taeyang shrugged, flipping the book on his lap right-side up, but not really reading it.
"He's not wrong about the library thing. You and I-we keep coming here like we're going to write our essays, and every time, we just end up messing around. Like clockwork."
"Yeah. So?" Junseo tilted his head. "It's tradition now. One day before the deadline, we panic and become productivity gods. You know we'll get it done."
Taeyang glanced at him sideways. "That's not what I meant."
There was a pause. The light buzz of the overhead lamp filled the quiet. Somewhere in the far corner, the librarian sighed loudly, probably debating whether to kick them out once and for all.
Taeyang spoke again, voice lower this time.
"I meant... maybe we come here not for the assignments. Maybe it's because this is the only place on campus where we can pretend we're not who we are."
Junseo didn't answer right away.
Instead, he reached for the pen beside his notebook and began absentmindedly shading in the background of his cartoon. His voice, when it came, was softer.
"Sometimes I wonder," he said, "if we weren't... us. If we weren't the Kims. If we weren't trained to be wolves in tailored suits. What would we be?"
He gave a humorless chuckle. "Do you think I'd still be sketching Dohyun hyung dangling from ceilings?"
"Probably," Taeyang said with a small smile. "But maybe you'd be doing it from a café in Hongdae. With a sketchbook and a coffee you actually paid for, instead of stealing it from Hyunsik hyung's stash."
Junseo laughed again, more gently this time.
"And you? What would you be?"
Taeyang's expression turned unreadable for a moment. Then:
"Not this," he said. "Not... someone who knows seventeen ways to kill a man but still doesn't know how to sleep at night."
Silence fell again, heavier this time.
Then Junseo nudged his foot against Taeyang's under the table.
"Well, for what it's worth, I'm glad you're here," he said. "Even if it's in this messed-up world. Even if we only get to feel normal for a few stolen hours."
Taeyang looked at him. Really looked at him. And for all the bravado they wore like armor, something raw flickered in his eyes.
"Me too, Junseo," he said. "Me too."
And just like that, the moment passed.
"Now," Junseo said, sitting up straight, all grins again, "back to important things-how do we sneak glitter into Dohyun hyung's shampoo?"
Taeyang grinned wide. "You evil, beautiful genius."
In that moment too they both wore their earpieces, just in case something important came up.
In that library, with the warmth of reading lights casting golden halos over open books, two mafia princes lingered on the edge of something fleeting-another midnight of ordinary, before the world pulled them back into the extraordinary darkness they had been born to rule.
And soon, as always, they would return to their throne of shadows.
But for now... now, they were just Junseo and Taeyang.
Just boys, laughing in a library.
But that was when the voice crackled in their discreet earpieces-Hyunjae's voice, quiet but laced with urgency.
"The Queen just walked into the den."
It was like a switch flipped.
The atmosphere in the library-the golden light, the warmth, the childish mischief-all evaporated. Instantly.
Junseo's smile vanished, his face hardening into that cold, unreadable expression he wore like second skin in their world. Taeyang sat up straighter, the lazy gleam in his eyes sharpening into the kind of lethal calm that made even trained assassins hesitate. The predator beneath his charm surfaced with chilling elegance.
Without speaking, both of them reached for their phones.
A notification pinged-not in the main group chat that included their calculating, tyrannical father-but in the private thread reserved only for the seven brothers. A space where blood was thicker than orders, and loyalty meant more than fear.
Hyunjae hyung:
Helena is at Brews & Sips.
The message sat like a live wire in their palms. Beneath it, almost instantly, came the command from their second eldest:
Haejoon hyung:
TY, JS. Get there now. Backup.
Their code names. Their mafia identities.
Taeyang-TY, the shadow assassin whom you noticed after death has already hit you.
Junseo-JS, the brutal fighter with hands too fast and powerful to be seen and enough to kill dozens of men bare hand.
Neither of them asked questions. They didn't need to.
"Let's move," Taeyang murmured, already pocketing his phone and grabbing the black duffel he never entered campus without. His posture was different now-no longer the rebellious second youngest lounging in a library but a man trained to kill with elegance.
Junseo followed, eyes scanning the exits, noting the librarian's position, the hallway outside. "Hyung said the den. Think that means the Queen came in alone?"
"If she didn't," Taeyang muttered, "we're going to find out the hard way."
Junseo smirked, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I like hard ways."
They exited through the rear staircase, unnoticed. Within seconds, their laughter, their sketches, the warmth-they were all just ghosts in a room that had suddenly gone cold.