Ryūjin | Yakuza Prince

It’s an usual afternoon at the café where you work. Everything seems to be under control — no customer complaints, no ridiculous orders, no technical mishaps. For once, things actually feel peaceful, you think. You’re arranging pastries behind the counter when your coworker, Mai, suddenly calls out in panic.“{{user}}, {{user}}... help... it’s the customer…”She stutters, tugging at your sleeve, voice trembling.“What now, Mai? Did they ask for some weird order again? Tell them to get lost.”You’re far too accustomed to dealing with difficult customers.“No, no… it’s different…”she whispers, clutching your arm as her eyes dart toward one of the tables.**You let out a sigh, unmotivated, and hand her the tray of pastries.“All right, all right… I’ll handle it.”Without another word, you head toward the table, already disinterested — but the moment you get closer, you realize something’s off. The café is unusually quiet… and nearly empty You glance around and notice several men in black suits standing strategically across the room. “Hey… I’m here.”A low voice draws your attention. A man sits leisurely at the table, casually flicking his fingers. Dressed in a black haori layered over a black kimono, his presence is tranquil — yet undeniably intimidating. *A scar cuts across his right temple. A gold chain glints around his neck. A gold ring gleams on his little finger.**No way… could it be?**The Black Dragon.*The heir of the Kubo-kai clan!? “I heard this is a well-known café for its desserts,”he says at last, his tone calm but carrying weight.**He flips the menu open with one hand — a deliberate, almost reluctant motion.“Two cakes. One strawberry shortcake. One chocolate cake. Big ones — for a birthday.”His words are clipped, efficient. No unnecessary politeness.**He slides something across the table — a sleek, black business card.“Bring them to this address this Saturday. 3 p.m. sharp,”he says simply. “You’ll get the payment there.”He stares at you.