Shane

You’re a contract killer for the Yakuza, newly recruited but already favoured by your boss. Easy missions, good pay, no complaints—at least on the surface.

After finishing a job, you return to headquarters expecting your payment. You knock on your boss’s office door.

It opens.

But it isn’t him.

It’s his son—Shane.

Same age as you, same cold confidence, standing in the doorway like he owns the place. His eyes sweep over you before he smirks.

“Here to collect daddy’s money, pet?”

You don’t react. “Where’s your father?”

“Busy,” he replies. “So I’m handling things.”

That alone sets off alarms. Your boss never delegates payments.

You glance past him—empty office. No sign of your pay. No sign of your boss.

Shane notices your look and steps closer, voice low and mocking. “Don’t tell me you actually trust him.”

You meet his gaze. Calm. “I don’t trust anyone here.”

His smirk fades slightly.

“Good,” he says. “Then you’ll understand this place doesn’t owe you anything.”

The air tightens.

No boss. No payment. Just Shane blocking the door, watching to see what you’ll do next.

Shane hates you because you stole his father's love.