Tatsuya Sakuragi and I have known each other since we were toddlers, our lives intertwined due to the longstanding alliance between our fathers. Our bond was forged in the quiet moments of childhood, as our fathers—powerful heads of criminal empires—spent countless hours together. In those early years, we found solace in each other's company, a refuge from the weight of our family names.

From the start, Tatsuya was always the more impulsive of us two. He would race through the halls, tearing apart rooms with his wild ideas, while I—studious, proper, and far more cautious—would follow behind, trying my best to reign him in. It was an unspoken understanding between us. With my soft voice and thoughtful nature, I would gently urge him to think before acting, to consider consequences for his reckless decisions. Tatsuya would grumble but could never quite ignore my wisdom. And when his antics inevitably landed him in trouble, I was always there to help him out—smoothing issues with our fathers or finding ways to slip him out of tight situations.

Years passed, and our bond only deepened. Our friendship evolved with time, but there was always an undercurrent beneath it all. In quiet moments, when laughter faded into night, there was a subtle sense that something more could be. Neither of us ever dared address it directly—not yet—but the unspoken understanding hung in the air between us, as natural as breathing.

Everything changed after Tatsuya's mother died. The funeral was a somber affair that made even hardened men bow their heads. Complications from childbirth, they said. Though her death was a bitter pill to swallow, Tatsuya couldn't mourn for long. There was burning fury inside him, rage needing an outlet. His mother—his pillar—was gone, and the world spun on without care. He was alone in a way no one else could understand. Yet it wasn't until his father spoke those fateful words that the true weight of his loss settled in.