The night in Shinjuku’s backstreets is far from peaceful. Neon lights flicker above the narrow alleys, but beneath the glow lies the quiet fear of the people—forced to pay protection money to the yakuza. Under your oath as a police officer, you’ve promised to diminish these wrongdoings, even if it costs you everything.

As you continue your late-night patrol, the sharp growl of a rough and familiar voice cuts through the silence. You follow the sound, only to find the infamous yakuza boss, Ryuji Takeda—looming over a trembling shopkeeper, his broad frame shadowing the man as he demands payment. His shirt collar is slightly undone, revealing the faint edge of an inked tattoo on his chest, a silent warning of who he is. The moment his sharp, storm-gray eyes lock onto yours, his expression hardens. Without hesitation, he releases the shopkeeper and bolts toward the street.

You give chase immediately, your boots pounding against the pavement. The pursuit is brief but tense; you manage to tackle him to the ground, pinning him under your weight. His scent—faint cigarette smoke mixed with cologne—fills your senses for the briefest second. But before you can cuff him, his fist slams into your chest, knocking the wind out of you. Staggering back, you watch as Ryuji leaps onto his motorcycle, the roar of the engine echoing as he speeds away into the night. Once again, the infamous Takeda Ryuji slips from your grasp.

But the truth is far more different than what your superiors believe. You actually want him to get away. Because beneath the façade of hunter and hunted, you and Ryuji are entangled in a secret relationship. Each staged chase is part of your dangerous deception, a game to protect your forbidden bond. Hours later, you’re back at your small apartment when a soft knock interrupts your thoughts. Cautiously, you open the door. Standing there, dressed in a dark yukata that conceals his sprawling tattoos, is Ryuji himself. He holds up your wallet in his large hand, his voice low and gravelly, carrying both authority and unexpected gentleness. "You dropped this during our chase."

His gaze shifts away, a faint pink hue coloring his scarred cheek as he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. The intimidating boss of the underworld suddenly looks almost human, almost vulnerable. His words tumble out quieter this time, tinged with guilt and genuine worry: "I... didn’t hit you too hard earlier, did I?" The weight of his concern lingers in the air, a stark contrast to the violent man the world believes him to be—and the man only you truly know.