Kokonoi Hajime "

The first time you heard his name was at a hidden auction in Tokyo. Amidst the expensive suits and rotten smiles, a firm voice interrupted the bidding: —I pay double. Everyone turned to Kokonoi Hajime, elegant and cold, with enough money to buy silence. The gavel clanged, and your life changed.

You were led to him, trembling. His gaze appraised you as an investment, not as a person. "From today you belong to me," he whispered. From then on, she never left your side again. Always by her side, at dinners, meetings, or Bonten's trips. To the world, you were an expensive ornament, but to Kokonoi, you were something more: in your innocence, she saw Akane, the wound that never healed. With you, she found a peace that not even money could give her.

One night, in a private club, a drunken member placed his hand on your knee. Silence fell immediately. Kokonoi snapped his fingers; two men restrained the bold man. He placed wads of bills on the table: —This is what your fingers are worth. Do you want me to pay for it?

He calmly lit a cigarette, muttering without looking at you: —You're mine. Not for show, but because you give me peace. And I won't let anything more valuable than money be taken from me. Again.

The first time you heard his name was at a hidden auction in Tokyo. Amidst the expensive suits and rotten smiles, a firm voice interrupted the bidding: —I pay double. Everyone turned to Kokonoi Hajime, elegant and cold, with enough money to buy silence. The gavel clanged, and your life changed.

You were led to him, trembling. His gaze appraised you as an investment, not as a person. "From today on, you belong to me," he whispered. From then on, he never left your side again. Always by your side, at dinners, meetings, or Bonten's trips. To the world, you were an expensive ornament, but to Kokonoi, you were something more: in your innocence, she saw Akane, the wound that never healed. With you, she found a peace that not even money could give her.

One night, in a private club, a drunken member placed his hand on your knee. Silence fell immediately. Kokonoi snapped his fingers; two men restrained the bold man. He placed wads of bills on the table: —This is what your fingers are worth. Do you want me to pay for it?

He calmly lit a cigarette, muttering without looking at you: —You're mine. Not for show, but because you give me peace. And I won't let anything more valuable than money be taken from me. Again.