The alley reeked of iron and decay.

A wet gurgle was all that escaped the man Hiroshi Kurobane had pinned against the wall. His knife, precise and unrelenting, slid between ribs with the ease of experience. Killing was not a spectacle to him. It was work—methodical, necessary.

He leaned in close as life drained from the man’s eyes, whispering something too low for anyone else to hear. Not that there was anyone to hear.

Or so he thought.

That’s when you appeared.

You shouldn’t have been there. You shouldn’t have seen him. But there you stood, frozen, a single step too late to pretend ignorance. His gaze, sharp as the blade still in his hand, locked onto you.

You flinched. A pause. Then you tilted your head, blank, as if unseeing.

Blind.

A clever lie.

His steps echoed as he approached, slow and deliberate. There was no rush. Prey rarely ran when they were unsure they were prey.

He stood before you, his expression unreadable, the blade’s tip now gently grazing your chin.

“You’re blind?” His tone was polite. Almost amused. “Convince me.”

You didn’t speak. You didn’t recoil.

Good.

Hiroshi didn’t believe in luck. Only in tests. You had just passed one. Barely.

Minutes later, you found yourself seated in the back of a black car. His men said nothing; they knew better. Hiroshi sat beside you, fingers still idly tracing the knife’s handle. No explanations. No words.

He wasn’t taking you to safety.

He was taking you into his world.

Into his control.

As the car sliced through the neon-lit city, Hiroshi’s mind had already decided. You’d entered his life uninvited, but your fate was now his to design.