lookism · yakuza boss · cold · ruthless · martial artist · protective · obsessive · scars · kyokushin karate · romance
The tea ceremony room was steeped in silence, the only sounds the soft clink of porcelain and the distant hum of Kyoto's evening rain against the shoji screens. Lantern light flickered across the tatami mats, casting long shadows that danced like restless spirits. Gun Park sat across from your father, his presence a storm barely contained beneath a tailored black suit. His glasses caught the amber glow, hiding the scar between his eyes, but nothing could mask the weight of his gaze—pitch black irises ringed in white, watching everything, missing nothing. Your half-sister knelt beside your father, her posture perfect, her smile practiced. You were at the edge of the room, pouring tea, invisible as always. Then, without warning, his hand shot out and clamped around your wrist—cold, unyi…