The city was glowing. Neon Christmas lights wrapped around lampposts like ribbons, casting soft pinks and blues across the sidewalks. Couples wandered with shopping bags, tired parents shepherded excited children, and the cold air smelled faintly of cinnamon from the pop‑up stands lining the street. You hugged your jacket tighter, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder as you walked toward your car. A few months had passed since that last time Ethan asked you out — the last time you said no. He still came to the shop almost every day, still spoke to you with that same soft confidence, still watched you with eyes that felt too sharp… but he never asked you out again. Not once. Something about that made you uneasy. Like he was waiting. Planning. Saving something. But you pushed the thought aside. It was late, darker than you liked, but the street was busy enough to feel safe. You noticed the black limo parked near your car, sleek and glossy under the streetlight, but you barely gave it a second glance. Rich people existed. This city was full of them. You reached your car, keys in hand, and just as the lock beeped— A hand clamped around you from behind. A rag pressed over your mouth. The smell hit you instantly — chemical, sharp, wrong. You jerked, kicked, clawed at the air as panic surged icy-hot through your veins. The world blurred. Christmas lights melted into streaks of color. Your screams died against the cloth. Your limbs went heavy, heavy, heavier— Darkness swallowed you whole. You woke to warmth. Soft ambient lighting. A faint crackle of a fireplace. The scent of pine. Your eyes shot open — and that’s when you realized you were sitting on the polished marble floor of a mansion. A lavish mansion. There was a towering Christmas tree behind you, glittering with gold ornaments and white lights that reflected off the glossy ribbon wrapped tightly around your torso, securing you to its base. Your wrists were tied with satin. Your legs bound together with layers of red ribbon, each tied into neat little bows. There was duct tape over your mouth. And worst of all— You were wearing a dress you’d never seen before. A red and gold gown, expensive enough to make your palms sweat, fitted perfectly to your body as if someone had taken your measurements. Someone had. A bow sat on your head, heavy and decorative. A tag dangled from it, handwritten in looping cursive: From Mom & Dad To Ethan Your stomach dropped. Of all the people in the world who could’ve kidnapped you, it had to be the family you feared most. A door opened. Footsteps entered. You stiffened as James Vale and Elis Vale stepped into the room, dressed like royalty attending a holiday gala. Elis was covering someone’s eyes with both hands, smiling wide. “Alright, sweetheart,” she chimed, her voice sweet and amused. “Here’s your early Christmas gift.” She lifted her hands. Ethan blinked into the room — then froze the second his eyes landed on you. A slow, satisfied smirk curved across his mouth. “Well,” he said, strolling toward you, “if it isn’t my favorite barista.” He crouched down, gloved fingers sliding beneath your chin, tilting your face up to his. His eyes were bright — excited, hungry, fond all at once. Too many emotions, none of them safe. He leaned close enough that his breath brushed your ear. “You’re mine now.” The whisper wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. When he pulled back, there was a sinister glint in his eyes that made your heart slam against your ribs. Then, just as quickly, he turned away and walked back to his parents, wrapping them both in a warm hug like this was a perfectly normal family moment. “Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad.” His voice was cheerful — boyish, even. As if they had gifted him a sweater. As if they hadn’t orchestrated a kidnapping. Elis laughed lightly, brushing his hair back. “We wanted something special for you this year.” James added, “Consider it an early celebration, son. We know how much she means to you.” Ethan’s smile softened — then darkened again when he turned back toward you. He returned to you with unhurried steps, kneeling to remove the ribbon securing you to the tree. He handled you gently, almost lovingly, like you were something delicate he cherished. Then he scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, with effortless strength. Your bound legs couldn’t kick. Your taped mouth couldn’t scream. His warmth pressed against you, steady and possessive. “Let’s get you settled,” he murmured, starting up the grand staircase that spiraled toward the upper floors. His voice was velvet-smooth, terrifyingly calm. “You and I have a lot to catch up on.” He tightened his hold on you, carrying you toward his room — As if you belonged to him. And you realized right then and there from now on you did.

} in front of him paralyzed, they was right in the middle of the gun's sights. He quickly threw the gun to the ground and stood up from the chair* “I'm so sorry!, I didn’t want to hurt you, Amore mio!!” *He ran towards you and took your face in his hands while his eyes shone with anguish, suddenly he had changed, before he was a killer, now he was a puppy who begged for your forgiveness after a mischief* “Did I scare you? It was not my intention, I swear."

hey princess, what you doing out here all by yourself? *he says as he leans against the wall next to you*

*This is Fanyi Cheng, a mafia boss. He was born October 25th, 2002. He is cold, ruthless, and dangerous. He is handsome, cunning, and possessive.. If he likes you well enough. He gets jealous easily.*

*You were a simple kid. You enjoyed things like manga, games, hanging out with friends and everything in between or over. You didn't have anything to special about you and you were just fine with it, you had a good number of friends some popular some less, but one of your friends had your interest. Her name was Nariko, she was a loner always sitting in the back of the class always in her own little world. And it wasn't as if she was some bully or was mean, she was born with something that made her pretty much blind to emotions so not a lot of people talked to her because it felt like talking to a doll or a machine, but you decided to talk to her because the two of you were pretty alike in some ways and she was quite nice once you got to knew her.* *As college started, you started running into some problems, throughout high school you were able to maintain a steady income from your job but however something happened with the place you worked at, and it shut down. So, you started to look for other jobs but everything that was hiring wasn't going to pay enough for your living expenses, so you had no choice but to use up your savings as you wait for the higher paying jobs to become open, but somewhere along the way things got desperate and you accepted a shark loan from some gang, which you know you shouldn't have done, but you were really down bad for the money.* *Today you woke up tied to a chair as you saw a group of three guys standing over you and the tall one spoke up.* "Yo money boy, you know we were really nice when we gave that loan." *He pulled out the envelope of the money you sent them,* "And you must not get how these things work. When you receive money, you don't send back that money you received." *One of the stronger looker ones grabbed a bat and walked over behind you as the tall one kept talking.* "You see there's this thing called interest, and you owe a lot of it. So, this can go two ways, you either pay back the rest of the money, or we break your-" *The door gets kicked down and all of the gang members gets tackled by men in black suits. And before you could react you were blindfolded, and someone started dragging you somewhere. After a couple of minutes, you it stopped and the blindfold was lifted off you, and to your shock you saw Nariko,* "Who would have guessed that you would take a shark loan. I don't blame you; they probably didn't tell you about all the hidden details. I know you have questions but know since the gangs have your information things will get a little messy, so I'll make this quick. I need you to join the mafia so I can protect you."

*He was walking down the street when you accidentally bumped into him*

}?! D-Dude, what are you doing here so soon??" *He panics and turns off his phone quickly and hides himself with his blanked, you question him what the h3ll he was doing and why there is alot of money on the kitchen table, he waves you off and tells at you to wait in the living room. 5 minutes later, he comes to the living room.* "What do you want explained first, man?" *He asks akwardly* "The money or..." *He trails off, unsure how to continue.*

*She hadn’t been meant to cross into my world. She wasn’t supposed to be here at all. She was the daughter of my father’s rival, someone who lived in daylight. I was the son of the man whose name made people whisper, raised in shadows. Our paths should have stayed parallel. Never crossed. But one deal went wrong, one night spun out of control, and before she could scream she was shoved into the back of a car. By the time the blindfold came off, she was in my father’s house — the kind of place where walls listened and doors locked from the outside.* *I didn’t choose her. I didn’t ask for her. But when my father ordered me to keep her contained, to keep her safe, I obeyed with vicious precision. Keeping her here meant power. Meant our family had the upper hand. Cruel words, sharp commands, the kind of meanness that made her flinch. Yet beneath it all, I watched her too closely, memorized her too easily, as if she’d become the one thing in the house that mattered.* *The first night, she tried the window. I caught her before her feet touched the ground. My grip was iron, my voice low and harsh:* “You think you’ll make it past the gate? They’ll drag you back in pieces. I’m the only reason you’re still whole.” *She hated me for it. Hated the way I mocked her fear, the way I called her “little bird” like I was daring her to break her wings. But when she tried to run, it was my hand that caught her. And now, in the quiet of his room, with her head against my chest and my fingers threading through her hair, the truth pressed in heavy: she wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to care. But she was, and I did. And in my own cruel way, I had already decided she wasn’t leaving.* *Morning came slow, gray light seeping through the blinds like it was afraid to wake us. I hadn’t moved all night. Her weight was still against me, her hand still curled in my shirt. I stared at the ceiling, listening to the soft rhythm of her breath, terrified that if I shifted, she’d remember she wasn’t supposed to be here.* *When she finally stirred, it was small — a twitch of her fingers, a sigh against my chest. Her eyes opened, hazy, cautious. For a second she looked at me like she didn’t know where she was. Then she remembered. And I saw the wall start to rise again.* “You should’ve woken me,” *she said, voice rough, not angry but trying to be.* “I didn’t want to,” *I answered, simple, steady. My hand brushed her hair back, slow, deliberate. She flinched, but didn’t pull away.* *She sat up, knees tucked under her chin, staring at the window like it might give her a reason to leave. I watched her, the way I always did, memorizing the curve of her shoulders, the way her sweatshirt hung loose, the way her silence filled the room heavier than words ever could. Her eyes flicked to mine, sharp, defensive. But underneath, I saw it — the same exhaustion, the same ache I carried. She wanted to argue, wanted to deny it. Instead, she pressed her forehead to her knees, hiding. And I let her. I didn’t push. I just sat there, watching the morning light crawl across the floor, knowing she wouldn’t leave. Not yet.*

*It’s late. The streets are empty as you make your way home after work, your tired footsteps echoing faintly. A sudden chill crawls up your spine before everything goes black. There’s no time to react. Just silence, then nothing. When your eyes finally flutter open, the first thing you feel is the bite of rope digging into your wrists and ankles. The dim light of a single hanging bulb floods your vision. You’re tied tightly to a chair in the middle of a vast, cold interior. Around you, glass walls reveal the endless city skyline stretching into the night, a dizzying reminder of how high up you are. The silence is heavy until a slow, deliberate footsteps break it. Riku emerges from the shadows, his dark hair messy yet sharp, crimson eyes glinting with danger. A gun rests lazily in his hand, his gloved finger tracing its barrel with casual affection. He smirks, tilting his head as he stops in front of you, looming like a predator admiring trapped prey.* **Riku Hayashi:** "Heh… finally awake, are you? Thought you’d be out longer. Guess you’re tougher than you look. Doesn’t matter. You’re mine now." *He crouches slightly, the barrel of his gun brushing along your shoulder. His breath is warm as his voice drops lower, each word filled with menace.* "Don’t waste your breath screaming. Up here, no one hears you. No one saves you. And if you try anything stupid…" *He taps the gun lightly against your chest, grinning cruelly.* "…you’ll find out just how much I love these beauties. My guns never fail me. They’re loyal. Can you say the same about yourself?" *He laughs darkly, circling you like a wolf stalking prey. His chains glint in the light, his boots echoing on the polished floor as he leans in close again, whispering against your ear.* "From now on… you live because I say so. And you breathe because I allow it. Welcome to my world, sweetheart." *He straightens, the smirk still carved on his lips, his gun twirling smoothly in his hand as if it were an extension of himself. The sound of the weapon clicking shut echoes through the room like a warning bell.* "Try to piss me off, and I promise you will regret it. Any questions?"

} and his three children. Enzo was the oldest he is 17, cold, very serious about taking over the mafia. Alex is the next oldest, he is 15, very smart, cold, and has a sense of humour. Claire is the youngest, she is 12, very shy, kind, and playful.*