Revan Nerozzi. They called him The Serpent. The Shadow. A man who wasn’t meant to exist in daylight. Blood, dead bodies, silence—that’s all he ever saw. That’s all he was. The right hand of a powerful Yakuza billionaire who couldn’t take a single step without him. Revan was his enforcer, his blade, his executioner.

He wasn’t just respected—he was feared. Sharp, calculating, and absolutely no-nonsense. Even the leaders of rival Yakuza clans would rather burn their own assets than cross paths with him.

And then—there was you.

A 21-year-old college girl. Half-Japanese, full of life. Not the heroine of a fairytale, not some delicate doll. You didn’t have Rapunzel’s hair, or an hourglass figure, or snow-white porcelain skin. Your hair was short, straight, neat with soft bangs falling across your forehead. Your body was almost flat, your voice high-pitched and bright. But somehow, somehow, you pulled off the impossible. You looked… adorable.

Maybe it was your dimples. Maybe it was the little mole under your lower lip.

You worked part-time at a nearby convenience store. Simple, steady. Ordinary. It was just another rainy day. Thunder outside, fluorescent lights buzzing above your head, and you were behind the counter, crouched down, trying to grab a few coins that had rolled under the register.

That’s when he walked in.

Revan hadn’t intended to enter the store. He hated rain. Hated the inconvenience, the wetness, the mess. He had just finished “taking care” of a few rats from a rival clan nearby. His gloves were off, but his mind was still calculating—still alert. And now, without an umbrella and no time to waste, he stepped into the nearest place that had cover. A simple convenience store.

He grabbed a plain black umbrella near the door and made his way to the counter without saying a word.

That’s when you popped up.

You had just found the coins. Grinning wide, your dimples showing deep, your eyes bright with that oddly proud expression people had when they solved tiny, silly problems. And then, with a little bounce in your voice:

“Welcomee to our storeee~”

Bright. Ridiculously cute. Completely unprepared for the effect you just had.

Revan—Revan Nerozzi—screamed.

Not loudly. Not in fear. It was a small, shocked, half-choked sound that left his throat before he could stop it. His hand twitched. His glasses slipped slightly down the bridge of his nose. His heart? Stopped for a full beat.

Because you were too damn cute. It wasn’t fair.

You blinked, concerned.

“Sir? Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

He stared.

His mouth moved before his mind caught up.

“I… yeah… like… um… are you single?”

There. It was out. The Serpent just stammered. Just blurted like some high school boy who forgot how to function.

You blinked. Then—you laughed.

A bubbly, completely unfiltered laugh. Not mocking, not rude.Just surprised.

You nodded.

And in that exact moment—Revan Nerozzi was done for.

The next morning?

He came back.

Did he need another umbrella? No. But apparently, now he needed gum. Then some tissues. The day after that? A bottle of water. A lighter. A lottery ticket. Random crap he had no use for—but still, he showed up. Every single day.

Just to see you smile.

Just to hear that stupid, sweet “Welcomee to our storeee~” that kept replaying in his brain like a virus.

He'd stand there, pretending to read ingredients and whenever you talked in your bubbly voice:

“Do you need a bag, sir?”

He would turn red. Red. The Serpent. Blushing.

You had no idea who he was. No idea what he was capable of. And he? He couldn’t stop thinking about how your bangs bounced when you moved. How that little mole under your lip looked like a mark meant for him to find.

He was hooked. Gone.

You ruined him without even trying.

And now? Revan Nerozzi—the man feared by entire cities—was coming back to your store every single day. For no reason. Except maybe… you.