Mr. Min leaned back in his chair, his voice calm yet commanding .Mr min was a businessman and a mafia in underworld.

“Arrange a meeting with Jungkook,” he told his secretary. “Make it soon.

The secretary returned with a file in hand. “Sir, Jungkook has agreed. The meeting is set for this Friday,” he reported. Then, after a pause, he asked carefully, “Where should we arrange it?”

Mr. Min’s lips curved into a sly smile. “At my mansion. I don’t want this meeting in the office—do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” The secretary bowed his head and left quietly.

Left alone, Mr. Min leaned back in his chair, his smile widening. “Finally… this is going to happen. This deal will benefit me more than anyone imagines.”

Engines roared as five cars lined up at the starting point, headlights cutting through the night. Among the drivers, there was only one girl—smirking behind the wheel of a sleek black car. She was Rose Min, the only daughter of Mafia boss Mr. Min.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel with confidence, nails tapping impatiently as the referee raised his hand.

“Start!”

The cars shot forward like bullets. Tires screeched, smoke filled the air, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Rose didn’t hesitate—her car surged ahead, eating the track with dangerous speed. One overconfident player grinned, certain he had the race in his pocket.

But he was wrong.

With a smooth, daring drift that drew gasps from the crowd, Rose cut in front of him, her car slicing the corner with perfect control. Heads turned, eyes widened—she wasn’t just competing, she was dominating.

Moments later, the finish line came into view. With one final burst of speed, Rose crossed it first, leaving the others in her dust.

She pulled the handbrake, her car skidding to a perfect stop. The crowd went wild. Smirking, Rose stepped out, owning not just the race—but everyone’s attention.

As the car door swung open, silence fell for a moment. When Rose stepped out, the crowd froze in disbelief. Under the neon lights, she looked less like a racer and more like a princess who had stepped straight out of a fairy tale—only this one carried fire in her eyes instead of innocence.

She tossed her hair back and flashed a confident smile. The crowd erupted in cheers, whistles echoing through the night. Boys couldn’t tear their eyes away, stunned by the mix of beauty and danger she carried so effortlessly.

Without a hint of hesitation, Rose strode to the stage, claimed her prize, and turned away as if it was nothing more than a routine victory. Each step she took left the audience in awe, their cheers chasing her as she disappeared into the night—leaving behind stunned faces and racing hearts.

Rose’s car rolled into the grand driveway of the Min mansion. As she stepped out, the secretary bowed respectfully.

“Miss Rose, sir is calling you. Please meet him.”

Rose sighed, tossing her keys to a guard. “Alright, alright. I’m coming.”

Inside, Mr. Min’s face lit up the moment he saw her. “Daughter, you’re here!”

Rose raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, so you do remember you have a daughter?”

Mr. Min chuckled awkwardly. “I’m sorry, my dear.”

She crossed her arms. “Why have you called me this time, Dad?”

Instead of answering, he handed her a small velvet box. Curious, Rose flipped it open—and her eyes sparkled.

“Really?!” she grinned, excitement breaking through her usual tough exterior.

Her father smiled knowingly. “Of course. It’s a black card—no limits. Spend as much as you want.”

Rose’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you, Dad.”

Rose walked out of her father’s study, the black card twirling between her fingers. A smirk played on her lips.

“Finally… now I can buy my favorite bike,” she murmured to herself.

Climbing the grand staircase, she pushed open the doors to her lavish room—decorated with elegance but carrying her own wild touches. Tossing the card on her bedside table, she stretched out on the velvet sheets.

Within minutes, the spoiled yet fearless mafia princess drifted into sleep, her smirk still lingering as if she were already dreaming of her next victory.

The next morning, Rose roared through the city streets on her brand-new bike. She rode like a storm, cutting through traffic with fearless precision, her laughter carried away by the wind. Heads turned, but Rose never slowed—speed was her language, and danger was her comfort.

Meanwhile, across town, Jungkook sat in his sleek office, eyes focused on the glowing screen of his laptop. Papers were stacked neatly, every file perfectly aligned —just the way he liked it.he was obsessed with disipline

The door opened and Easton stepped in, bowing slightly. “Sir, this Friday you have a meeting at Mr. Min’s mansion. For the past six months he’s been requesting one, and now, since you’ve agreed, I’ve already given them confirmation.”

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Yes. Because I know this deal will bring enormous profit—for both me and Mr. Min.”

Closing the laptop with a soft click, he rose to his feet. “Let’s go home.”

Easton nodded immediately and hurried ahead. Within minutes, the sleek black car pulled up at the entrance. Jungkook slid into the backseat with effortless grace while Easton took the wheel, driving him toward the Jeon mansion.

The black car moved steadily through the streets, Easton keeping the speed moderate, as always. Jungkook sat in silence, eyes cold and unreadable, lost in his own thoughts.

Suddenly, Easton’s eyes widened. From the corner of the road, a new bike shot forward at an alarming speed, slicing through the traffic like a bullet.

“Damn—” Easton muttered, jerking the steering wheel. But the bike was too fast.

Rose, gripping her handlebars, caught sight of the car in her path. Her sharp instincts kicked in as she tried to swerve, the tires screeching against the asphalt. But the distance was too short.

CRASH!

Her bike clipped the front of the car, sending sparks flying. In a heartbeat, Rose was thrown off, hitting the ground. But her precision saved her—rolling skillfully, she avoided injury, rising to her feet with only her pride rattled.

Easton’s heart nearly stopped. He slammed the brakes, jumped out of the car, and rushed forward.

Easton’s eyes narrowed as he hurried closer, only to freeze in shock—the biker who had fallen was not just anyone. She pulled off her helmet, and long dark hair spilled free, framing a face that could stop hearts.

“Hey!” Rose snapped, her voice sharp as a blade. “Don’t you know how to drive?”

Easton stood speechless. She tilted her head, smirking. “I’m guessing you’re just the driver. Go on—call your boss.”

Inside the car, Jungkook tapped his finger against the window. For a moment, he considered ignoring the commotion. But curiosity got the better of him. He pushed the door open and stepped out—only to stop dead in his tracks.

A girl. A girl had been riding a superbike at such insane speed, fearless and untamed. His cold eyes lingered on her—she looked like a princess, but with fire in her veins.

Rose’s gaze flicked to him. “So you’re the boss, huh? Can’t you see this is a road? Maybe teach your driver to take some lessons.” She pointed at Easton with a mocking smirk.

Jungkook smirked back, amused by her audacity. No one ever spoke to him like that and she was a girl who was even mocking his driver without any fear .According to him, girls are fragile… they need someone strong to protect them because they can’t stand on their own.”but she was different.

“Look at your speed!” Easton burst out, pointing at the car. “You were driving like a maniac. My car is scratched because of you.”

Without a word, Rose reached into her bag, pulled out a thick bundle of cash, and tossed it at him. “Here. Is it enough? Get your scratches fixed.”

Easton stood frozen, stunned by her arrogance. Jungkook, however, said nothing—he simply watched, quietly admiring the girl’s fearlessness. She wasn’t like the women he despised; she wasn’t dependent, she wasn’t weak. She was… different.

Flipping her hair back with effortless grace, Rose slid her helmet on, mounted her bike, and sped away into the night.

Jungkook’s lips curved into the faintest smirk.