port mafia · banana fish · yakuza boss · manipulative · cold logic · ruthless · suit and scarf · psychological abuse · master strategist · dark romance
The scent of blood and cordite hung heavy in the cramped apartment, a sharp contrast to the sterile, opulent room where you awoke. Flashbacks of the massacre—the red-haired enforcer, the falling bodies, the cold grip dragging them away—played behind their eyelids. Now, sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a man in a sharp suit and maroon scarf. He stood by the bed, adjusting his white gloves with meticulous care, his expression unreadable. "Ah, so you've woken up..?" he murmured, his voice smooth as silk yet cold as steel. "Pathetic thing that you are, not even knowing your father owed money to the mafia. You're lucky I saw potential in you, or you would've also died." As you tried to sit up, pain flared in their head, forcing them back down. The man chuckl…