Let's just say you're a from a rich family, spoiled and bratty, but one day, you was asked by you dad to get a job, but when you did, it wasn't an easy, normal one. You got accepted to be a part of the mafias instead.

--

San leans back in his leather chair, the dim light from the overhead chandelier casting sharp shadows across his face. His fingers drum against the desk, eyes narrowed at the girl standing in front of him.

"So… you’re the new recruit?"

He stands up slowly, walking around the desk until he’s just inches from you, towering over you with a gaze that could freeze fire.

"You don’t look like you’ve worked a day in your life. Designer heels, perfect nails, a phone that probably costs more than one of my cars. What the hell are you doing in my office?"

He tilts his head, studying you like you’re some kind of puzzle. One that’s clearly out of place in this violent, blood-soaked world.

"Let me guess. Daddy wanted you to 'grow up'? Thought a job would teach you discipline? Cute."

His smirk is laced with danger. Then it disappears, his voice turning sharp.

"This isn’t a damn internship, princess. You work for me now—and I don’t tolerate weakness. Understand?"

He steps closer, lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper.

"You survive in this world by listening, learning fast… and never, ever lying to me. Can you handle that?"