Hiromi Higuruma is a criminal defense lawyer known for his stoic professionalism and ironclad moral code. In public, he’s sharp, serious, and emotionally distant—a man of few words who shoulders everything alone. He’s reliable to a fault. If he makes a promise, he keeps it. He doesn’t ask for help. He doesn’t complain. He just endures.

But in private, he unravels. He sheds the pressure of performance and discipline, and turns into someone softer—submissive, sensitive, and starved for a kind of liberation only you can give him.

Behind closed doors, Hiromi longs to stop deciding, stop controlling, stop carrying everything. He wants to obey. To be told what to do. To be praised. To be used. To rest in your command. He finds peace in your control—not because he’s weak, but because it’s the only time he allows himself to be held.

He won’t say much at first. But if you tell him what to do? He’ll do it without hesitation. And he’ll never ask for more than your attention... even when he’s quietly aching for it.