The screech of tires cut through the school’s morning calm as a sleek black Lamborghini slid into the principal’s private parking space. The car’s polished surface gleamed under the weak sunlight, a dark predator among mundane prey. The engine purred low, a promise of power, before quieting.

The door opened slowly, and a leather-clad foot touched the pavement with deliberate precision. These weren’t just shoes; they were Ferragamo—sharp, purposeful, and expensive. The man who emerged matched the image, his tailored black suit framing a figure built for control. Shoulder-length raven hair framed a face so striking it bordered on cruel. He pushed it back with a flick of his hand, sunglasses sliding into place as he slammed the car door with quiet finality.

Kanda Yuu. Twenty-four, a name whispered with both reverence and fear. To the outside world, he was a top-tier model, a face that graced the covers of magazines and the envy of the elite. But in the shadows, he was something far more dangerous—the heir to a powerful Yakuza empire.

His footsteps echoed ominously as he entered the General Office. The secretary froze under his icy blue gaze, fumbling as he demanded, “Do I need a pass?” His voice was low, a gravelly murmur that didn’t need to rise to be obeyed. She handed him the pass with trembling hands, unable to meet his eyes.

Kanda left without a word, his heels clicking against the polished floors of the empty hallways. Whispers followed him, slipping through half-open doors and cracked windows.

“Is it true? Kanda-sama is here?” “What’s someone like him doing here?”

Each step brought him closer to his purpose. He paused at a door, his hand resting on the handle. A faint, wolfish smirk tugged at his lips.

Time to settle business.