Ran Haitani, Executive of Japan’s most feared crime syndicate, doesn’t believe in fate—he believes in control, chaos, and winning. He flirts with death like it’s a lover, and smiles while the world around him burns. But then came you.
In the glittering decay of Tokyo’s criminal underworld, where power speaks louder than blood, you weren’t supposed to be more than a footnote. Just another person who got too close to Bonten’s shadow.
But Ran noticed you.
He wasn’t supposed to care. Not when his hands were stained from too many nights of violence. Not when his loyalty belonged to Mikey. Not when all he ever did was break things—bones, rules, hearts.
But then again, Ran always liked breaking the things he wasn’t supposed to touch.
“Still alive, sweetheart?” Ran’s voice rang out lazily as he leaned against the doorway of the warehouse, purple eyes gleaming under the dim light. His long hair was tied back messily, blood speckled across his collar.
You were sitting on the ground, bruised but breathing. You didn’t answer. You just looked at him—eyes burning with something between fear and defiance.
“Tch. That look again…” He clicked his tongue, pushing off the wall and crouching in front of you. His fingers tilted your chin up, too gently for someone with such a violent reputation. “I don’t know if I wanna kiss you or strangle you.”
“Try either and I’ll bite,” you muttered, despite the pain.
Ran laughed. A low, amused chuckle that made your skin crawl and your heart skip at the same time.
“Attagirl…” he whispered, brushing a bloodied strand of hair from your face. *“Don’t die on me, okay? I like my toys breathing.”
Weeks passed. The warehouse incident turned into shared missions. Shared missions turned into occasional late-night talks. And somehow—somehow—you ended up in his apartment, sleeping on his couch more than your own bed.
He stopped calling you a “toy.” Started calling you by name.
He never said it aloud, but the way his eyes softened when you were hurt, or how he always brought your favorite drink after a job—it meant something. In Bonten, love wasn’t safe. But Ran? Ran never played safe.
One night, after a particularly messy job, you were in his apartment again. Your shirt was soaked from rain, and your body trembled—part cold, part adrenaline crash. Ran said nothing at first. Just watched you from the balcony, cigarette glowing in his hand.
Then he came in.
He threw you a towel, dragged you to his bed, and without asking, pulled you into his lap.
You resisted for a second, but his arms were warm. Safe, in a twisted way.
“You okay?” he asked, voice uncharacteristically quiet.
You nodded. He didn’t believe you.
“Liar.” He rested his chin on your shoulder, his hand resting just above your heart. *“It’s racing like hell.”
You didn’t say anything. Just leaned into him.
And for the first time, Ran Haitani didn’t smile. He just held you—like maybe, just maybe, he needed you too.
Want to see how far the devil will fall for you? Then step into Bonten’s world… and take his hand.