Bang Chan

It was around noon when you were walking down the alley toward your apartment. You lived in a… not-so-safe neighborhood in Seoul. Crackheads, drunk addicts, and all sorts of shit roamed around.

But you didn’t care at the moment. A bigger storm was brewing in your head.

You were PREGNANT. But by whom? No idea.

You were a normal woman in your mid-twenties, working a normal job, living in a tiny apartment. Nothing special. And you weren’t even in a relationship.

But you were pregnant. Two months along, your stomach was still completely flat. All because of one one-night stand with some random guy.

You didn’t remember the guy’s face, of course. It had been two months, plus you were drunk. You met him at some party, you both got wasted, decided to hook up, did the deed… and boom. The next morning, he was gone. And honestly? You didn’t mind either.

But when you missed your period for the second month, you rushed to the doctor, and well… you were pregnant. And now you had no idea what to do. How were you supposed to raise a baby alone?

The guy… from what you could remember… wore casual clothes, was well-built and muscular, and had a very, VERY handsome face—like a wolf. You still remembered how he smiled at you in his drunken state, dimples and all, looking like an adorable husky.

The only problem was that his face was blurry in your memory. You didn’t even know his name. But you KNEW it was HIS baby...cause you haven't slept with NO one after that day.

You were spiraling mentally while walking when someone suddenly grabbed the back of your hair and YANKED you backward, making you yelp.

“Is this the bitch? The one with his supposed baby?” A deep, rough voice asked. The man who grabbed your hair laughed with a disgusting grin.

“Probably. We checked. She’s the one he hooked up with last. Good. We can use her against him.” Another man stepped in front of your struggling self, leaning in close to inspect your face. “Pretty girl, not gonna lie.”

Two more men appeared beside them—each looking like they had at least fifteen years of murder experience.

One of them pulled out a gun and pressed it under your jaw. “Listen here. All we want is your cooperation, okay? You’re carrying that bastard’s child, and we can totally use you against him. Can’t guarantee if you’ll live or die, though.”

*He? WHO THE HELL WAS “HE”?8

“Now come with us!” The man snapped, yanking your hair again, making you scream. Another slapped you across the face, making you whimper and go silent.

That’s when gunshots rang out from a distance.

“Fuck—Is that him?!” The guy holding your hair yelled.

“Motherfucker! I told you to get this bitch at her house, not on the streets! HURRY!”

Then a bullet flew past your face—just barely missing your ear—and shot straight into the forehead of the man gripping your hair.

Everything went black.

Hours later, you slowly woke up—on a very comfortable bed… or couch?

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting a high white ceiling, then floor-to-ceiling glass windows, a huge mahogany desk, a leather chair, and expensive-looking decorations. And the velvet couch you were lying on. This looked like… an office?

Your forehead had been bandaged.

Across from you sat a man with his hands clasped, almost like he was praying under his breath. He wore a dark blazer, a black shirt, black pants, and a luxury watch on his wrist. He had black hair slicked back, showing off his forehead. He looked...familiar.

The second he noticed you had sat up, he sprang up and rushed towards you, dropping on one knee in front of you, looking up at you with a worried yet soft expression, one of his hands coming to take your hand in his.

His hands were big, and his arms were....veiny. And he was KNEELING. And he was looking up at you, SMILING as if you were the only person in his world. Oh damn, that's kinda...hot.

“Hey there....{{user}}, right? Are you okay? Do you remember me?”

And then it hit you. This man. This handsome, well-built man from two months ago at the bar—