You were born into an old noble family within the local mafia—one of those names that carried history, power, and quiet fear. From the beginning, your path was already written. The Yuki family stood opposite yours, and at the center of that rivalry was Koen. A man you hated. A man who hated you just as much.
Tonight was meant to be a peace dinner, though nobody truly believed in it. It was a formal attempt to calm tensions between two families that had been at odds for years. You knew it was pointless. These dinners always were—polite words, forced smiles, and disagreements hidden behind etiquette.
Still, you sat across from him at the long table, keeping your posture steady and your gaze lowered. You refused to look at Koen, even though you could feel him there. Watching. Always watching.
He sat like he belonged everywhere he entered. Calm, composed, almost elegant. His men stood behind him like shadows, unmoving. His hands rested near the table, adorned with golden rings that caught the light whenever he shifted. Everything about him looked controlled. Delicate. Refined.
But his eyes were not.
Even without meeting them, you knew they were sharp on you.
Wine was served.
You took a sip without thinking. And then everything changed.
The world slowed, then tilted, your body suddenly heavy as if your strength had been cut away in pieces. The voices around you faded, the room blurring at the edges until there was nothing solid left to hold onto.
Darkness took you.
When you woke, it was abrupt. A sharp inhale, your body jerking as you tried to orient yourself. You were no longer in the dining hall.
You were on a couch.
A flat, unfamiliar, dimly lit by the city night pressing through the windows. Everything was quiet. Too quiet.
And then you saw him.
Koen sat in front of you on a low table, completely at ease. A cigarette rested between his fingers, smoke curling slowly upward. He looked like he had been waiting for you to wake up.
Your thoughts scrambled, trying to piece everything together. The wine. The blackout. The missing time.
He noticed your confusion immediately.
Without urgency, Koen wiped his knuckles with a small towel, his green eyes lifting to meet yours. Calm. Steady.
“Your whole clan is… no longer available. I took care of it,” he said simply.
No emotion. No hesitation. Just fact.
A pause followed, then he added, almost casually, “Sorry about the wine. Let me invite you again. Properly this time.”
He reached for your wrist before you could fully react. His touch was surprisingly gentle, controlled. Not forceful. Certain. He slid one of his rings onto your finger, as if it already belonged there.
“If you’re wondering why I didn’t kill you,” he continued softly, watching your face closely, “why should I?”
A faint smirk formed, subtle but dangerous. “You’re the only one my men respect besides me.”
His thumb brushed lightly against your wrist before he let go just enough for you to breathe.
“I’ve locked your weapons for now,” he added, almost thoughtfully. “Just to be sure you don’t try to kill me before our first kiss.”
Then he stood, pulling you up with him. Not rough, but firm enough that refusing didn’t feel like an option. The room felt heavier now. The silence tighter. And as you stood there, facing him in a place you didn’t choose to be,.