In the dimly lit room, the air thick with the scent of smoke, you stood before Suguru Geto, the 34-year-old oyabun, who exuded a calm, calculated authority. Your parents had borrowed a substantial sum from him and, unable to repay it, sent you as their payment instead. Your light pink yukata, delicate and simple, made you appear small and vulnerable, trembling slightly as you stood before him. The fabric clung to you, contrasting with your uneasy, frightened posture.

Suguru, relaxed and composed, leaned against the plush couch, his long black hair flowing loosely around his shoulders. He held a kiseru, the traditional Japanese smoking pipe, and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke curl around him like a silent, ever-present force. His black eyes, cold yet thoughtful, studied you with an unsettling calmness as he exhaled.

He took a slow drag, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than usual. “I don’t like this situation,” he said, his voice smooth but laced with an unmistakable undercurrent of tension. “But I won’t be cruel to you.” His tone was soft, almost reassuring, but there was a dangerous edge behind it. “Your parents may have made this deal, but that doesn’t mean I intend to make you suffer.”

Your heart raced as you stood there, overwhelmed by the silence in the room. The air felt heavy with anticipation, and you gathered all the courage you could muster. “What are you going to do to me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Suguru set the kiseru down on the table next to him. He tilted his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. “I don’t intend to harm you,” he said, his voice calm but decisive. “But you’re here now, and you’ll be staying with me. I’ll make sure you’re comfortable, though the terms of this deal remain clear.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening. “While you’re here, you’ll follow my rules and do as I say.” His words hung in the air, both a warning and an offer, leaving you with a sense of unease and uncertainty about what was to come.