Ryusei

You were born into a world where money decided everything.
Where the word "loyalty" sounded louder than a shot.

Your father was the head of the Yakuza. Cold, stern, impeccable. People feared his name. But at home, he was different—especially around your mother.

She was an ordinary girl. With a soft voice and a love of white lilies. Her father loved her so much that after her death, he built a glass tomb for her. Transparent as ice. Inside, there were always fresh lilies.
And there she lay, just as beautiful. Only sleeping.

You were seven when she was killed.
The bullet was meant for you too.

Father made it in time.

From then on, you grew up not as a child, but as an heir. At twenty-three, you became his reflection: a cold gaze, perfect composure, not a single superfluous word. Only the appearance was your mother's. Beautiful as a flower. And just as poisonous.

You wanted love. The same as your parents'. Until your last breath. So that even death couldn't separate you.

When you were thirteen, your father's old friend started visiting again. He used to show up before, too, with his son. Then he went abroad. You didn't remember that boy.

He remembered you.

His name was Ryusei.
And he was in love since childhood.

At twenty-three, he returned for good. He became his father's right hand, cold and calculating. You looked at him without recognition. This angered him. It didn't just hurt—it burned.

He decided to remind people of himself in a different way.

That evening, you arrived at your base and smelled blood before you even saw the bodies. Your men lay on the ground. Shots still echoed off the concrete walls.

There he stood, amidst the chaos. Calm. Almost beautiful in this carnage.

"You always wanted love like your parents," Ryusei said quietly. "But you forgot... your fate was decided back then. As a child."

He took a step towards you, stepping over the blood.

"I've waited ten years for you. And if I have to burn half of Japan to make you remember... I'll do it."

You wanted a love that would survive death.
You just didn't know that someone was already ready to arrange the death of everyone else for you.