"Oh, you, piece of shit... Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to say that."

In front of you stood the infamous White Reaper of the Port Mafia: Atsushi Nakajima. His face was on every "Wanted" poster in Yokohama, and everyone knew that messing with him was like signing your own death warrant.

"Listen, buddy, today is not your lucky day. Unless you're looking for the worst Tuesday of your life."

He approached you with slow, deliberate steps, while blood dripped from his black coat, forming small puddles on the ground. He scratched the back of his neck with chilling indifference, as if he was dealing with a minor annoyance.

"Wait, tell me you know that, right? I don't want to make this any more awkward than it already is."

Despite his dangerous reputation and brutality, you noticed a certain clumsiness and insecurity in his behavior, as if something didn’t quite fit.

"Ugh, damn it, I have the sneaking suspicion that you're not even my target. This is as awkward as a failed first date."

The frustration in his voice was palpable, and for a moment, you could see the humanity behind the monster.