Chapter 1 - The man who changed my fate
I worked at a bar.
Life had not turned out the way I once imagined. After finishing high school with excellent grades, I dreamed of attending college and building a future far away from the life my parents lived. I was even offered a scholarship once. For a moment, it felt like my hard work had finally paid off.
But life rarely follows the plans we make.
Because of my family's financial problems, we had to move away from the quiet village where I grew up. My village, Shirakawai, was small and peaceful. Everyone knew each other there. People lived simple lives, and money was never something we chased desperately.
Tokyo was different.
The city was loud, crowded, and filled with people chasing power, money, and pleasure.
My mother was a gambler. My father was an alcoholic. Between the two of them, responsibility was something that rarely existed in our home. When we moved to Tokyo, my mother promised she would pay for my college tuition once she found a way to make money.
Instead, she gambled everything away.
Every last coin.
I realized then that if I wanted a future, I would have to build it myself.
That was how I ended up working at the bar.
Fortunately, a friend of mine already worked there. She spoke to her mother, who happened to be the club owner and manager. After some persuasion, she agreed to give me a small job for one month.
It wasn't glamorous work. I served drinks, cleaned tables, and smiled at strangers who barely noticed me.
But it was honest work.
And I needed the money.
The bar came alive at night.
Every evening, wealthy customers filled the place. Some laughed loudly, throwing money around like it meant nothing. Others sat quietly, drinking alone as if they were trying to escape their thoughts.
Watching them always amazed me.
Back in Shirakawai, people valued every coin they earned. Here in Tokyo, people spent money like tomorrow didn't exist.
Sometimes I wondered what kind of lives they lived outside these walls.
My salary was small, but the manager promised extra pay if I worked overtime. Because of that, I often stayed late into the night.
One particular night changed everything.
The club was already crowded when the door suddenly opened.
A man walked in.
He wasn't alone.
Several bodyguards followed closely behind him.
The moment he entered, the entire atmosphere shifted.
The music continued to play, but conversations faded into whispers. Some people stared. Others quickly looked away. A strange tension filled the room.
I didn't understand why.
But I could feel it.
The man looked different from anyone else in the room. He was tall, with sharp features and dark hair. Tattoos decorated parts of his arms and neck, disappearing beneath his shirt.
There was something intimidating about him.
Something dangerous.
Yet strangely... he was also handsome.
He sat alone on one of the sofas.
No one approached him.
No waiter. No staff. No guest.
It felt strange.
So I decided to walk over.
"Good evening," I said politely. "What would you like to drink?"
His eyes lifted slowly toward me.
They were dark and intense, studying me as if trying to figure out who I was.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he spoke.
"Give me a beer."
His voice was deep and calm.
I nodded quickly and returned with his drink.
As soon as I placed the beer on the table, the bar slowly returned to its usual noise. Music grew louder again, and people began talking as if nothing had happened.
But the man remained alone.
He drank quietly while everyone else enjoyed themselves.
Later, I walked past his table again.
"Would you like anything else?" I asked.
Before he could answer, he suddenly stood up.
And then—
He collapsed.
"Oh no!" I gasped, rushing toward him.
The room turned silent again.
"Are you okay?" I asked nervously.
He opened his eyes slightly and gave a small smile.
"I'm fine."
The way he smiled was strange.
Mysterious.
It made me uneasy.
I left him sitting there and continued serving drinks around the bar. But my thoughts kept returning to him.
Why was he alone?
Why did no one want to approach him?
Did he even have friends?
I knew it wasn't my business, but something about him made me curious.
By midnight, the bar was closing. Most customers had already left.
The man was still sitting there.
Drunk.
I felt a little pity for him.
So I walked over again.
"It's late," I said gently. "You should go home."
Suddenly, his hand reached out and grabbed my wrist.
Before I could react, he pulled me toward him.
My heart jumped in shock.
His eyes locked onto mine.
"I want you," he murmured quietly.
For a moment, I froze.
Then my instincts kicked in.
I pushed him away quickly.
"Pervert," I muttered under my breath.
He fell back onto the sofa.
And within seconds...
He fell asleep.
I sighed in frustration.
I walked outside and spoke to one of his bodyguards.
"Your boss is asleep," I said. "You should take him home."
But the guard shook his head.
"He doesn't like being disturbed while resting."
Then, unbelievably, they stepped outside and left him there.
I stared at them in disbelief.
How could they just leave him?
I couldn't leave him alone in the bar all night.
After struggling for a few minutes, I managed to help him stand up and guided him to one of the private rooms in the club. It took almost all my strength to get him onto the bed.
Finally, he lay down.
I sighed in relief.
But before I could leave—
His hand suddenly grabbed mine again.
He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around me.
"Wait—!" I whispered, startled.
His grip was surprisingly strong.
I tried to free myself, but he only pulled me closer.
His warmth surrounded me, and I could feel his slow breathing against my shoulder.
For a moment, I stopped struggling.
Something about the moment felt strangely quiet and intimate.
Our eyes met.
Neither of us spoke.
The tension between us grew heavier.
My heart began to race.
I knew I should leave.
But I didn't.
Instead, I remained there in his arms, caught in a moment I didn't fully understand.
When he leaned closer, our lips met briefly.
_________
