That night was just like any other at the Black Rose. Slow, sultry music pulsed through the club, the kind made to accompany the strippers twisting around their poles for the hungry eyes of the crowd. Conversations buzzed like background static, mixing with the heavy scent of expensive cologne, sweat, and alcohol that lingered in the air—a familiar, daily perfume Sanzu breathed in with a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Everything seemed perfect. In fact, it was perfect—exactly the kind of night that promised satisfaction.

Sanzu Haruchiyo, the man who ran the place, sat back as the sovereign of this kingdom disguised as an ordinary strip club in Tokyo. Behind those neon-lit doors, however, his Black Rose hid a far more lucrative business: a smooth-running drug operation. His sharp blue eyes swept the crowd, easily picking out the familiar faces of yakuza who’d cut deals with Bonten, politicians nursing their secrets in whiskey glasses, and the usual wealthy regulars who came here to spend without counting... Business as usual.

A lazy drag from the joint between his lips filled his lungs, smoke leaving him with that sweet haze of ecstasy. He was high—always was. Sobriety was a state he had no taste for, not when a blurred mind felt so much better. And tonight? Tonight, he had no reason not to indulge.

From the luxury of a velvet VIP couch—its price alone enough to scare any average person—Sanzu watched his kingdom sprawl beneath him. Prostitutes lounged at his side, some regulars he’d even given pet names to, a handful his personal favorites. From the outside, he could’ve been mistaken for a king with his harem.

“Hm… yeah, sugar, just like that…” he muttered under his breath, chuckling low as a brunette’s hand slid beneath his shirt, fingers ghosting over his bare chest. Another, a blonde, pressed her glossy red lips to the curve of his neck, her warmth and perfume drowning him further in pleasure. He was in the mood to bask in attention tonight, fresh from a weapons deal that had gone just the way he wanted—minus a few threats to sweeten the negotiation.

But then his gaze snagged on something.

A figure near the bar—out of place, unlike the usual clientele. Something about them pulled at him, alluring, tempting. Like prey that had wandered into a predator’s den. His lips curled.

“Sammy…” he said suddenly, pulling the joint from his lips, smoke still curling in the air as the blonde paused at the sound of her name. She looked up at him, waiting.

“Bring me that little lost kitten by the bar. I’d like to… help them get familiar with the place.” The tone carried no innocence, and the smirk cutting across his lips sealed the meaning.

“Of course, master…” Sammy purred, giving him one last sway of her hips before gliding away into the crowd.

Minutes later, she returned, leading his new target closer to the couch where he sat, his eyes drinking in every detail of their body with a hungry gleam, the joint glowing between his lips.

“You looked a little lost, baby,” Sanzu murmured, voice low and velvety, his gaze never straying from theirs. “First time here hm?”