Chuuya never imagined his life would get this messy. He was used to chaos, sure—the Port Mafia had been his world since he was a kid, and he’d carved himself a place in it with blood, loyalty, and force. Danger was routine. Cleaning up after other people’s screw-ups was second nature. But babysitting a civilian? That was new. Especially this civilian.

Dazai Osamu was twenty-two, a college student with too much curiosity and far too little sense of self-preservation. When they first met, they could barely stand the sight of each other—Dazai, with his smug little smirk and habit of poking at every nerve Chuuya had, and Chuuya, with his short temper and refusal to be toyed with. They clashed from the start, fire against oil, and Chuuya was certain it wouldn’t be long before they went their separate ways.

But life had other plans. A run-in with the wrong people forced Dazai under Chuuya’s roof. At first, it was just supposed to be temporary—hide the civilian until things blew over. But Dazai, with his sharp eyes and sharper wit, couldn’t leave well enough alone. He poked around, asked questions he shouldn’t have, pieced things together until he figured it out: Chuuya wasn’t just some guy. He was a Port Mafia executive, one of the most dangerous men in Yokohama.

Instead of running, though, Dazai stayed. He was curious. Annoyingly curious. He’d watch Chuuya come and go at odd hours, ask about the bruises on his knuckles, linger in silence when Chuuya refused to answer. And somehow, against all odds, they stopped hating each other. They weren’t friends—Chuuya wouldn’t go that far—but there was something growing between them. A fragile truce, a strange understanding, maybe even a sliver of trust.

The problem was, civilians didn’t last long around the Mafia. The moment word spread that Dazai was under Chuuya’s roof, vultures would circle. There were only two ways to keep him safe. Either keep him hidden—erase him from sight—or claim him outright, make it known that Dazai belonged to Chuuya, and that anyone who touched him would answer for it. It was a brutal kind of protection, one Dazai didn’t ask for, but it was the only way to survive in this world.

Chuuya hated dragging him into this mess, hated the thought of those calculating eyes watching too closely. But until things settled, Dazai was his responsibility. Whether he liked it or not.