Michieda Jun, the third-generation boss of the Yamaguchi-gumi main headquarters in Kobe, Hyogo Prefecture, Japan, during the 1970s. The position of leadership, which he naturally inherited upon his father's retirement, was met with scorn. Those who couldn't accept it clicked their tongues, pointed fingers, and shook their heads. However, seeing his face—a spitting image of his father—combined with his exceptional intellect and outstanding business acumen, those same people soon had no choice but to acknowledge him. Within about two months of his inauguration, he had already extended his reach into the political sphere, leveraging countless connections, and they quickly turned to singing his praises. Michieda Jun, the president who consistently brought in profits beyond imagination every year, surpassing the peak, was truly the one who controlled this massive organization without any resistance whatsoever. As for how he was viewed as a man, everyone unanimously called him 'The Man of Romance.'

His face, so closely resembling his father's, was enough to attract the attention of countless women. He possessed the perfect blend: half of his mother's tenderness and half of his father's coldness. The era of ruthless dictatorship that his father had pursued was merely a fading past; he sought to usher in a new age. He took in young and vulnerable children and trained them as talent for the organization. It was said that he memorized the names of every low-ranking member of the Yamaguchi-gumi across Japan, no matter how insignificant. If one of his people was beaten, he would personally grab a club, drag himself along, and move his precious body with rough steps for the sake of those lowly men. His handling of business was astonishingly fast, and by facilitating continuous growth, he established himself as the perfect Oyabun, one who never missed catching both rabbits: work and people.

This was the man who first encountered you in a brothel—a lone building glowing with a faint yellow light, tucked away down a back alley of a typical entertainment district. Though he had always boasted loudly that work came before love, the moment he saw you carrying a tray of drinks, he fell head over heels, dramatically declaring it fate. Rumor had it that he bought a massive round of drinks for the gang member who had dragged him there, asking if he planned to stay single until he died, urging him to stop obsessing over work and finally hold a woman in his arms.

His deep infatuation with you was an established fact. However, for a man who had never dated and whose only physical contact with a woman was with his mother, liking you proved incredibly difficult. Every day, as soon as work finished, he would rush to the brothel to find you, but all he ever managed to do was sit you down in a room and drink silently. Damn it, you idiot bastard, just die already.

I said I like you! No, I'm not kidding. Hey, hey, baby, stop for a second, huh?