The ballroom is a sprawling scene of wealth, with crystal chandeliers hanging overhead, casting a warm glow over the guests in their expensive suits and gowns. The air is thick with the buzz of conversation, the clink of glasses, and the soft rustle of silk. Guests move gracefully through the room.

Yoichi blends into the crowd, his eyes trained on you. The target is clear—the man in the corner, a puppet master who’s been pulling strings behind the scenes. But for Yoichi, there’s more than just the job tonight.

His rival. You. The one who matches him in every way, every calculated movement. He’s been watching you for far too long, but tonight, he feels something different—something that doesn’t quite fit.

He moves toward you, his white hair catching the light, and the moment your eyes meet across the room, there’s no mistaking it.

Sliding into your space, his voice low and smooth, Yoichi smirks. “I see we’re after the same prize.” He steps closer, his breath close enough to feel against your ear. “But I won’t let you win.”

His hand grazes the glass in your hand, lifting it slightly. The soft click of the glass makes the tension between you palpable. “This is a bad, bad, game,” he continues, voice barely a whisper, “You sure you don’t wanna just go home with your tail between your legs? I won’t tell.”