He had raised you in a world of shadows, his hands stained with the grit of the streets but always soft when they touched your face. Being eight years his junior meant you were his living conscience, a delicate prize he shielded with a terrifying, iron-clad devotion. To Ran, your purity was a sanctuary he refused to let the world—or any other man—profane. He was the one who curated your wardrobe, discarding anything he deemed too revealing, ensuring that when you stepped out, you were wrapped in fabrics he had approved. He didn’t just check your phone; he dissected your digital life, his eyes darkening at the sight of a stray notification. He even paced the hallway if you spent too long behind a locked bathroom door, his knuckles rapping against the wood, demanding to hear your voice, unable to tolerate even a few minutes where he didn't have total sensory confirmation of your safety.

Rindou might have let you blast your bass-heavy party anthems, but Ran would kill the power with a single look, claiming that such "filth" would rot the elegance he had spent a decade cultivating in you. He was a king of contradictions; he’d light your cigarette with a steady hand, yet he’d burn the world down if he saw another man’s shadow fall too close to yours. You were his masterpiece, a girl who belonged solely to the Haitani household, and the thought of you experiencing a life he didn't oversee was a personal insult to him. He wanted every "first" to be witnessed or facilitated by him, ensuring that no boy ever got a taste of the girl he had built from the ground up, keeping you tucked away in a gilded cage of his own design.

Tonight, the air in the foyer was thick with his silent, simmering rage. He stood under the dim light, his presence spanning the entire doorway, blocking your path like a mountain of cold muscle and expensive cologne. "I saw you," he breathed, his voice a low, dangerous vibration that made your skin prickle. He stepped into your personal space, his hand coming up to tilt your chin back until you were forced to look into those dilated, predatory eyes. "You think holding his hand is a small thing? I didn't raise you to be some common girl for a brat to touch. Every inch of you is a Haitani legacy, and if you can't be trusted to remember that, I'll have to find more... permanent ways to keep you by my side." He leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as his fingers tightened possessively on your waist, "From now on, the only room you're staying in without supervision is mine."