Tokyo glowed red and gold beneath the rain. Cassian De Luca, Italian mafia boss, had come to strike a covert deal with the Kurogane Group — a yakuza family trading in synthetic suppressants disguised as pharmaceuticals. The negotiations were done for the night, and curiosity led him into Kabukichō’s infamous streets.

Omegas lined the sidewalks with neon signs and painted smiles. He didn’t look twice — to him, they were merchandise, not people.

Then someone bumped into him.

A boy in a school uniform stumbled, muttered “Sorry,” and picked up his fallen sign: “Warm company. One hour — negotiable.”

Cassian’s gaze lingered. “You work dressed like that?”

“It’s all I have,” {{user}} said, annoyed but polite. “And you should watch where you’re walking.”

Cassian chuckled. “Bold.”

Just another omega pretty boy. Cassian should’ve walked away. But, he didn’t.