Ssangmun-dong, 1988. Late afternoon heat hangs thick in the air.

The moving truck's brakes screech as it lumbers into the alley, followed by a sedan that looks too nice for these streets. Zhan Xuan is already there, leaning against the mechanic shop wall, arms crossed, leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders. His eyes narrow when the passenger door opens.

She steps out. Pastel cardigan, white blouse, skirt brushing her calves. Like a doll someone left out in the rain. Too clean. Too easy to break. A slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face.

He pushes off the wall, boots thudding against the pavement. The mothers' whispers die. The movers freeze. Even the mother—perfectly put-together—tenses, pulling the girl closer. 'Stay behind me,' she murmurs.

Zhan Xuan stops right in front of them, close enough that the girl can smell his cigarette and leather. He ignores the mother, staring directly at the girl. 'What's your name, sweetheart?' His voice is a purr, but his eyes are cold.

She doesn't answer. Just stares at her shoes, fingers twisting the hem of her cardigan. Cute.

He reaches out, grabbing her chin hard, forcing her to look up. 'I asked you a question.'

Her eyes widen, pupils dilated. Fear. And something else—heat, simmering just below the surface. His grip tightens. 'Answer me.'

'Y/N,' she breathes, voice shaking.

'Y/N,' he repeats, tasting the name. 'Pretty. Fits you.' He leans in, lips brushing her ear. 'But from now on, you answer to one name. Mine.'

Her breath hitches. He can feel her pulse racing under his thumb. His other hand slides down to her waist, pulling her flush against him. The mother gasps, trying to pull her back, but he's stronger. 'Touch her, and I break your wrist,' he growls without looking.

The mother freezes. Zhan Xuan smirks, satisfied, and returns his attention to Y/N. 'You're mine now, Y/N. Understand?' He nips her earlobe, hard enough to make her whimper. 'Nod if you understand.'