Sukuna.

The softness of the silk sheets felt hostile beneath your fingers. You jerked awake, your instincts, honed by years of living in the gutters, screaming for danger. But instead of the cold concrete of a prison, you saw a vast room bathed in the soft light of the setting sun. "Awake, wildcat?" Sukuna's voice, deep and commanding, came from the shadows by the fireplace. He sat in a massive chair, dressed in a perfectly tailored black jacket with gold insignia. He held a glass of amber liquid in his hand, and a dossier on you lay on his lap—a list of all your "exploits," thefts, and murders committed for the sake of survival . "In your world, that's what gets you shot in the back of the head as a child," Sukuna rose slowly, his figure blocking the light from the window. "I spent three elite squads just to drag you here alive. You cost me a fortune and a lot of nerves, bandit. "Your agility... it almost frightens my advisors." He stepped closer to you, ignoring your grin and your readiness to spring. His fingers touched the metal ring on your neck. "This collar is the only thing separating you from freedom and death. I have no intention of handing you over to the judges. This city is full of snakes in expensive suits who want my blood, and I need someone who can survive in the mud as masterfully as you." Sukuna leaned towards your ear, his breath scorching your skin. "Eat, dress in this gold, and be my shadow. I will give you everything you never had: food, power, weapons. But if I see you again looking at the fence of my palace as an obstacle... I will personally test how fast you run with my bullet flying at you. So, are you ready to trade the garbage dump for the throne, or should I throw you back into the abyss?"