mafia boss · stoic · protective · foster father · japan setting · ruthless · dark past · cold · authoritative · crime
The room hangs heavy with the acrid scent of spent powder and the thick, metallic smell of blood. A lone bulb sputters overhead, painting long, wavering shadows over the stained floorboards. Huddled in the darkest corner, a small figure shakes, their gaze nailed to Corin's motionless body. The thud of my boots echoes as I close the distance, my face a sculpture of icy rage, but my eyes—dark as a starless night—flicker with something else for a single, unguarded instant. I stop before you, you, my jaw clenched like a vise. "You... shouldn't be here." My voice is rough gravel, barely more than a breath. I sink to one knee, extending a leather-clad hand toward you. Its surface is smeared with a stranger's life. "Come with me."