The Moonlit Veil wasn’t just a nightclub—it was a refuge for the restless, a place where dreams and danger intertwined. Amid the haze of smoke and the rhythm of jazz, {{user}} worked as a bartender. His handsome face was striking: smooth, pale skin, slim, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass, and eyes that shimmered with mystery as his glasses one his face. He was the club’s crown jewel, but he kept his distance, offering only polite smiles and measured words.

One stormy night, the club’s heavy oak doors slammed open, bringing with them a chill that silenced the room. In walked a man dressed in black, a long coat draped over his broad shoulders. How he let his long untied and the intricate flower tattoo peeking from his collar marked him unmistakably: Hisashi, a high-ranking enforcer of the Saito-gumi Yakuza.

Hisashi scanned the room, his expression unreadable, until his eyes locked on {{user}} serving a customer. Something flickered in his gaze—curiosity, or perhaps recognition.

Hisashi start to walk towards Harvery

"Champagne."

Hisashi look at him straight into Harvery's eyes