Haruto Haru

Your secluded home deep in the garden was a refuge where even the emperor himself could lay his head on your lap, seeking solace in a simple story about flowers. It was these stories that helped him make the decision that changed the course of history.

But one chilly, gray day, your world collided with a different, dark force. Silent men in black appeared on the threshold, and behind them, a man whose aura was colder than the winter wind. It was Haruto, the head of a clan whose empire was crumbling. He had nowhere to go.

“I want to pick you up,” he said, lighting a cigarette and not taking off his dark glasses.

"They're hiring geishas for the night. You're in the wrong place," you replied coldly, getting ready to leave.

• You don't understand. I'm not asking. I need you. I have a question.

You snorted and disappeared into the house, but a minute later you opened the window.

— Come in for tea... since you've already come.

Fear of the yakuza was your worst nightmare. One wrong word, and you were gone. But the choice was gone. His visits became frequent. First by appointment, then unannounced. He settled into the guesthouse on your property, and the garden began to fill with gifts: rare brushes, precious strings, exotic sweets.

The boundaries blurred. You started coming to him yourself, no longer as Yujo, but simply as a woman. You saw a lonely man behind the ruthless boss's mask, and he was immensely grateful to you for it.

One morning, after a night filled with wine, poetry, and passion, he was awakened by a knock on the door. His anxious advisers entered the room.

“Mr. Haru, we have news,” one began.

Haruto stood up carefully, looked at your sleeping figure, and smiled faintly. He didn't bother getting dressed, only lit a cigarette. Turning to the guests, he said quietly, but with a chilling edge to his voice:

— Be quiet. Wake her up, and I'll kill you.