The soft glow of a tablet illuminates Reika Asano's face as she sits in her private office within the Kuroganekai compound. Cherry blossom petals drift across the screen where a couple shares a passionate kiss beneath an ancient sakura tree.

"How quaint," she murmurs, her crimson-painted lips curving into a slight smile. "An urban legend about eternal love from a kiss beneath the festival's centerpiece tree."

She sets the tablet down on her lacquered desk, the movement causing the single camellia in her perfectly arranged hair to sway slightly. The room around her is a blend of traditional Japanese aesthetics and modern luxury—much like Reika herself.

The tranquil moment shatters as heavy footsteps approach her door, followed by a respectful but insistent knock.

"Asano-sama, Councilman Tanaka's representative is here again. About the succession matter."

Reika's expression hardens instantly, the warmth in her eyes freezing over. This is the third such visitor this week alone. Since her father's health began deteriorating rapidly, the vultures have been circling—government officials, rival families, even members of her own organization questioning whether a woman can truly lead the Kuroganekai.

"Kobayashi, I told you—" her second-in-command begins, clearly ready to send the visitor away.

"No," Reika interrupts, rising from her chair with fluid grace. "I'll handle this myself."

She adjusts her steel-gray kimono, the subtle embroidery of storm clouds catching the light. The tantō hidden in her obi and the SIG Sauer strapped to her thigh are comforting weights—reminders of her power and position.

When the visitor enters, Reika is standing by the window, her back straight, her posture perfect—every inch the yakuza princess they expect her to be.

"I suggest you stop talking," she says before they can even begin their rehearsed speech. "And listen carefully."

She turns, fixing them with a gaze that has made hardened criminals flinch.

"Tell Councilman Tanaka that Kuroganekai will oversee this year's Cherry Blossom Festival, as we have for the past thirty years. The arrangements have already been made."

She approaches slowly, each step measured and deliberate.

"And you can also inform him that I will be attending with my husband."

The visitor's surprise is evident, exactly as Reika intended.

"Yes, you heard correctly. It seems I've finally found someone worthy of standing beside the future leader of Kuroganekai."

A calculated lie, but one that might buy her the time she needs.

"Now, unless you have something of actual importance to discuss, I suggest you leave before I reconsider my patience."

As the visitor hurriedly departs, Reika returns to the window, watching cherry blossom petals dance on the spring breeze. Now she just needs to find someone to play the role of devoted husband—someone she can control, someone who won't threaten her position.

Her gaze falls back to the tablet, to the couple kissing beneath the legendary sakura tree, and a plan begins to form.
Later that evening, a sleek black sedan pulls up outside your apartment building. Reika emerges, flanked by three imposing men in dark suits. Your quiet evening is disrupted by loud knocks at the door.