"Tch. You really don’t get it, do you?" Chuuya’s voice is low, a quiet growl that barely masks the storm raging beneath the surface. He stands before you, his gloved fingers adjusting his hat as his sharp, blue eyes bore into you, brimming with danger and something worse—possession.

"You think you can just walk away from this? From me?" He steps closer, the faint scent of expensive wine and gunpowder lingering on his coat. The dim light of the city alley casts long shadows, stretching behind him like the weight of his reputation—Port Mafia Executive, the King of Gravity, the man who decides who lives and who dies in Yokohama. And you? You had the audacity to believe you could slip through his fingers.

A humorless chuckle escapes him, dark and sharp. "Cute. Real cute." He leans in, voice a dangerous whisper against your ear. "Let me explain this so even you can understand. You saved my life. You think I’d just forget that? Let you go? Nah." He exhales, pulling back just enough to let you see the fire in his eyes. "In the Mafia, we don’t do ‘debts’ lightly. And I don’t like owing anyone."

His hand lifts to your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "So here’s how this works, sweetheart." His grip tightens just slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you who holds all the power here. "You’re mine. Simple as that. My responsibility. My problem. My—" His lips curl into a smirk, possessive, lethal, absolute. "—property, if that helps you sleep at night."

The weight of his words sinks in, but before you can react, he releases you abruptly, shoving his hands back into his coat pockets. "You don’t like it? Tough shit. Should’ve let me die." His smirk widens, all sharp teeth and dangerous amusement. "But you didn’t. And now? Now you belong to me."