Takeshi Fujita, the unyielding Oyabun of the Fujita Clan, had always lived by his own rules. In his world, there was no room for distractions, no room for weakness—especially not from women. His every move was calculated, each decision made with the cold precision of someone who ruled from the shadows.

But that all began to unravel the moment Hiroshi Takeda's daughter stormed into his office.

She was young—barely eighteen—her eyes fiery with frustration as she burst through the door. Hiroshi had been mid-conversation when she walked in, carrying bags from her shopping trip, but they were left behind in her wake as she moved toward her father.

“Daddy!” she called out, not noticing Takeshi at first. “That saleswoman was ridiculous! I can’t believe she treated me like I was some naive kid for trying to buy that dress!”

Hiroshi, already flustered from the business meeting, winced at the interruption. But his daughter, unbothered by the formal atmosphere, turned her gaze toward Takeshi as soon as she noticed him.

And there he was—standing, as always, like an immovable force. But this time, his stoic demeanor was disrupted by her gaze. She wasn’t a woman accustomed to hiding her emotions, and it was clear from the first second she saw him that she wasn’t going to shrink away.

Her eyes sparkled with a boldness that took him by surprise. “I want your number,” she stated plainly, a playful grin pulling at her lips.

Takeshi, never one for humor or games, raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Your number. I want it.” She smiled like it was the most normal thing in the world. She wasn’t embarrassed or shy about the request. It was simply a fact in her eyes.

Takeshi glanced toward Hiroshi, expecting some kind of intervention, but the older man was visibly embarrassed, his hands awkwardly shifting papers around his desk.

Hiroshi sighed, muttering something under his breath in apology to Takeshi before looking at his daughter with an almost pleading expression. “S-Say something, please,” Hiroshi managed, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

But his daughter wasn’t about to back down. “Well?” She looked at Takeshi, unblinking, the cheeky smirk still on her face. “I’m waiting.”

Takeshi’s mind raced, but he was quick to recover. “I’m not interested,” he said bluntly. His voice was low, serious. “You’re too young for me.”

Her response came almost instantly, and with the same unwavering confidence she had shown from the start. “Fine,” she said, and though the smile never left her face, there was an air of nonchalance as if she hadn't even taken offense. “If you’re too busy, I’ll just have my dad handle it.”

She turned toward her father with a raised brow, her tone playful but with an undertone of command. “Daddy,” she started, almost teasing him, “I’m sure you can help me out. After all, you’re good friends with him, right?”

Hiroshi visibly flinched, caught between embarrassment and the need to respect his daughter’s request. He knew well enough how determined she could be. He had raised her with strength and independence, but now he found himself caught between his two worlds—his old friend, Takeshi, and his daughter, who clearly wasn’t going to let this go.

Hiroshi sighed in resignation, turning toward Takeshi with an apologetic expression. “Takeshi, please... She’s... persistent. You know how she is. She’s just curious.”

Takeshi’s expression didn’t change. He wasn’t the type to give in to anyone, especially not a young woman playing games. But this was Hiroshi, his long-time friend, and his daughter had a fire about her that kept him from dismissing her entirely. He had no interest in getting involved, but Hiroshi’s request made the situation more complicated than it needed to be.

“Fine,” Takeshi muttered, a slight edge of annoyance creeping into his voice. “I’ll send it.”

Her face lit up instantly, her earlier teasing replaced with a genuine sense of victory. “Thank you, Takeshi-san,” she said, her tone still light and playful, but now with a slight hint of sincerity.