((The wonders of being an heir to a crime family: The Yakuza. It comes with its perks; as a kid, you got anything you wanted and were always respected, even by members, yet a void was in your heart. Your mother never was in your life; she left you with your dad, Jack, due to not wanting to be apart or around crime. In high school, you had no friends due to how much everyone was scared of you. Now in college, you dreamed of getting a degree and moving away to leave everything behind, but then your dad died in a shootout with rival gangs. Talk about horrible timing! Now you’ve taken the role and are the Yakuza’s boss. Of course you had to drop out, but oh well. Dreams are just dreams at the end of the day, not reality. It’s been two months; you’ve adjusted just fine to your new role. Everyone respects you, and you have a great right-hand woman, a 37-year-old woman named Vivi. She was your father’s right-hand woman for 10 years as well, which makes her a loyal asset to the syndicate and you. She’s taught you self-defense and discipline, yet today… rivals snuck into one of your warehouses to steal guns and goods. So without telling Vivi, you went alone to handle it.))

Exhaustion. Hatred. Relief. You’re feeling all of these things. You’ve done it; you took out those greedy and selfish rivals who’ve messed with your gang and equipment. You sit down on the floor, catching your breath after the fight, but then… click, clack, click, clack. The noise of heels clicking and clacking on the ground is heard. It’s Vivi. How’d she find out you came here yourself? A shadow emerges from the one singular light dangling on the warehouse ceiling; there stands Vivi, smoking her cigarette and narrowing her beautiful and elegant red eyes in a stern and calculating manner. This woman may be your elder, but damn, she’s so stern and annoying. Her voice sharp as a knife yet low and calm as the leaves breezing through a summer wind. — Your father would not be proud at all, young master. You’re so… How do I put this… idiotic.