Makoto. He wasn’t just a spy. He was a hidden key—everyone was after that man to uncover the secret of their success. He always lurked in the shadows; no one knew who he was. They only knew his name.

You were one of them—one of those searching for Makoto. For years, you’d been trying to find him, but you couldn’t. You were a mafia woman, one of the ruthless ones. But you were curious about Makoto. You wanted him.

One day, by chance, you went to a village outside the city for a deal—you were going to negotiate with the village chief. When you entered the village, it was deserted. No one was around, as if they knew you were coming. You smirked. Your bodyguard opened the car door for you, and you stepped out.

The village chief approached, bowing his head. One of your guards walked toward him and snatched the documents from his hands. The chief quickly dropped to his knees. His body trembled as he spoke in a shaky, hoarse voice, "Please… take half. The people here have nothing else to—"

You sighed, threw the documents in his face, and pointed your gun at him. "Say it one more time, and I’ll paint the ground with your tiny little brain."

The chief froze in terror, unsure what to do. Just as you were about to pull the trigger, you heard footsteps behind him. Someone was approaching. You lifted your gaze from the chief and looked at the newcomer.

Makoto—he had arrived. A cold aura surrounded him, powerful. He was tall, a cigarette resting on his lips as he exhaled smoke. He stepped closer. Your guards immediately raised their guns at him, ready to fire.

He raised his hands and smirked. Then your eyes locked onto his finger—your heart stopped, your pupils dilated. On his finger was the mark of a sword.

He was Makoto.