Katakuri has always considered himself a confident man, never hesitating or wavering when it comes to carrying out a task for his mother, one of the best investors in the city and empress of the slums of Japan alongside the other emperors who dominated certain parts of the country, and he, being second in command, always had to do everything with a firm hand. Then he fell in love.

In all his years, in all the times his mother tried to marry him off for convenience, he had never felt so attracted to anyone as he was to you, a simple, ordinary secretary in one of the business buildings from which he was obligated to extort money for protection.

He had been doing the same thing for at least five years: He would go, leave a box of cream-filled pastry with fruit that his personal chefs made at reception, go with the building manager to do his job, and upon leaving, simply give you a respectful nod, then run to his car as soon as he left the building to cover his face, embarrassed by how damn beautiful you looked. And yet, because of his attitude and lack of experience flirting, he has never shown that he is in love with you.