Yuki Haruto was originally just a handsome male high school student attending a standard public high school.
Like all boys at this sensitive and restless age, a hint of rebellion against a conventional life lurked within him.
Deep in his bones, he longed to break free from the mundane and experience the kind of dangerous “excitement” found outside textbooks and the campus.
The turning point of his destiny arrived one dusk after school.
Amidst the bustling crowd at the school gate, a girl leaning against a modified black motorcycle—its engine growling low—locked onto his figure with precision.
She sported striking short pink hair, the ends chopped unevenly to create a deliberately messy aesthetic.
Several silver studs pierced her ears, glinting coldly in the sunset.
She wore a shortened school uniform skirt and black stockings, her jacket draped casually over her shoulders.
An unlit cigarette dangled from her lips, her eyes holding a cynical, roguish charm that strangely mixed with a sharp beauty unique to a young girl.
She was the delinquent girl who would later be known as “Ahui.”
To a well-behaved student like Yuki Haruto, Ahui’s wild and unbridled aura was as fatally attractive as a magnet.
Her undisguised pursuit was an irresistible temptation for Haruto, who was yearning to shatter his calm life.
Almost without struggle, he quickly nodded and became this pink-haired delinquent girl’s “boyfriend.”
From then on, whenever the dismissal bell rang and Yuki Haruto walked out of the school gate, he would see Ahui straddling her flashy motorcycle, impatiently honking the horn or laughing loudly with a few equally eccentric companions, drawing looks of shock or disapproval from passersby.
When Haruto climbed onto the back seat under the envious, surprised, or confused gazes of many classmates, wrapping his arms around Ahui’s slender yet powerful waist, a rush of pleasure mixed with vanity, thrills, and a sense of immorality would well up inside him.
It greatly satisfied the psychology of a boy his age who longed to be noticed and different.
In his perception and imagination at the time, his girlfriend Ahui was the real-life version of the dashing, uninhibited, and dangerously charming “gangster girl” that only appeared in shonen or romance manga.
However, all those beautiful fantasies filtered through manga tropes were ruthlessly and violently torn to shreds by reality on the weekend night Ahui said she would “take you to meet my friends.”
When Ahui held his hand and pushed open the door of that villa on the edge of the city, the onrushing noise, turbid air, and harsh sights made Yuki Haruto freeze instantly in the doorway.
The interior of the villa was nothing like he had imagined.
The lighting was dim and ambiguous, the air thick with smoke.
The pungent smell of tobacco mixed with alcohol and cheap perfume made it hard for Yuki Haruto to adjust.
The huge coffee table in the center of the living room was piled high with toppled empty wine bottles and ashtrays stuffed with cigarette butts—a complete mess.
Sitting or lying on the surrounding living room sofas and carpet were over a dozen young men and women in strange clothes, their hair dyed various colors and their bodies covered in tattoos—clearly the “friends” Ahui had mentioned, a true delinquent gang.
What made Yuki Haruto feel even more uncomfortable and vaguely terrified was that almost every one of those delinquent girls was cuddling one or more men who wore heavy makeup and revealing clothes.
These men nestled in the girls’ arms; some were flirting, some were being fed.
The air was permeated with a vulgar scent of indulgence and undisguised desire.
This was far from Haruto’s idea of “cool” or “rebellion”; it looked more like a depraved kind of rot.
When he and Ahui walked in, the roar of noise in the living room dipped for a moment.
Almost all the delinquent girls’ eyes shot toward Yuki Haruto, who was still wearing his neat school uniform and looking innocent and bewildered—completely out of place here.
Those gazes were unabashed, filled with scrutiny, amusement, curiosity, and even naked covetousness.
They roamed over him like countless invisible hands, making him feel instantly like he had thorns in his back, utterly uncomfortable.
He subconsciously shrank behind Ahui, his fingers tightly gripping the hem of her clothes, and pleaded in a low voice:
“Ahui… can we go? I don’t feel too good here.”
But Ahui didn’t comfort him as she usually did, nor did she simply take him away.
She didn’t even look down at him. She just squeezed his hand back with enough force to cause pain, then involuntarily dragged him through the focal point of those gazes to a relatively spacious sofa.
She sat down heavily, then draped her arm around him, firmly trapping Yuki Haruto in her embrace.
Held by his girlfriend in such a strange and dangerous environment, his body stiffened at first, then strangely relaxed a little.
He naively thought this was Ahui using her actions to tell him:
‘Don’t be afraid, I’m here. I’ll protect you.’
He buried his cheek in the crook of her neck, which smelled of smoke, clinging to her like a lifeline, trying to block out the unsettling sights and sounds around him.
However, if he had raised his head at that moment, or had the courage to observe carefully, he would have discovered that his girlfriend Ahui was exchanging silent, tacit glances with the delinquent companions across from and beside the sofa.
They traded knowing, malicious smiles, their eyes occasionally sweeping over the shivering “little boyfriend” in Ahui’s arms.
Those looks weren’t regarding a person; they were assessing an amusing “toy” or “trophy.”
A tacit consensus flowed through the air—
‘Tonight, this little white sheep who stumbled into the wolf’s den probably won’t belong to his “girlfriend” alone.’
But soon, the door of the villa was pushed open again. A stronger current of air, carrying the chill of the night, rushed in, temporarily diluting the filth in the room.
Everyone’s attention, including Yuki Haruto’s, was drawn to the person walking in.
It was an exceptionally tall and fit woman.
She held a cold, hard-lined helmet under one arm. Her short, pale blonde hair seemed a bit messy from the helmet, with a few strands sticking recklessly to her sweat-dampened forehead and the side of her long neck.
She wore a “Black Knight” tight leather suit that fit her body curves perfectly.
The leather gleamed matte under the dim lights, outlining the shockingly proportional and powerful lines of her shoulders, back, waist, and long legs.
Her nose was high, her lip line distinct, and her grey eyes were as sharp as a falcon’s.
Wherever her gaze swept, it carried a natural, undisguised arrogance and oppression.
She looked like a wild leopard stepping into its territory, radiating a powerful aura of untamed wildness that said “strangers keep out.”
The appearance of this woman instantly silenced the noisy living room for several seconds.
Her temperament—a blend of power, coldness, and a strange abstinence—formed a stark contrast with the rotten, indulgent atmosphere of the scene, yet strangely overpowered it.
Almost all the men present, whether the “playmates” clinging to the delinquent girls or Yuki Haruto, held their breath involuntarily the moment they saw her clearly.
Their Adam’s apples rolled subconsciously, swallowing saliva generated by tension, awe, or instinctive fear.
Yuki Haruto was no exception. He widened his eyes, staring almost sluggishly at the tall woman who had walked in.
Compared to his rogue-like girlfriend Ahui, the woman before him was the one who truly fit the image of the powerful, awe-inspiring, and even terrifying “Underworld Queen” from the manga.
Powerful, beautiful, dangerous, mysterious… these adjectives found perfect unity in her.
His heart skipped a beat, and a feeling mixed with shock and inexplicable throbbing instantly seized him.
But immediately, he snapped back to reality, realizing he already had a girlfriend and was currently being held in her arms.
He hurriedly lowered his head, forcing himself to look away. His cheeks burned slightly, and he felt a trace of shame and panic for his “loss of composure.”
Meanwhile, his girlfriend Ahui and the other delinquent girls in the living room stood up from the sofas after the brief silence.
Their expressions of laughter and indulgence were reined in, replaced by a mix of respect, fear, and ingratiation. They greeted the tall woman who had just entered in unison:
“Leader!”
“Leader, you’re here!”
“Good evening, Leader!”
The voices rose and fell, sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet living room.
‘That woman… is she really the “Leader”?’
Yuki Haruto shrank into Ahui’s arms, secretly surprised.
He had never seen his fearless, always arrogant girlfriend show such obvious reverence to anyone.
This realization deepened his curiosity and… vague fear of this blonde woman.
He couldn’t help but secretly and quickly lift his eyelids to steal a glance at the “Leader,” who had walked straight to the master’s seat sofa and sat down.
Her posture was relaxed, yet she still radiated invisible pressure.
After the “Leader” took her seat, the atmosphere in the villa became “active” again, though this activity now held a few degrees of deliberate fawning and cautious probing.
The delinquent girls began to drink while loudly and half-jokingly teasing their Leader.
“Leader, aren’t you being too ascetic? You come alone and leave alone every time!”
“Yeah, Leader, look at us. You should find a man to relieve your boredom too!”
“Is it because your standards are too high to look at ordinary ones? Hahaha!”
These presumptuous yet probing jokes made Yuki Haruto prick up his ears to listen carefully, even without looking over.
When he heard the claim that she had “never touched a man,” he was startled again.
‘This setting… is also very similar to the ones in manga…’
An unreal sense of absurdity wrapped around him; after all, he knew his girlfriend had had other boyfriends before.
As if to verify this claim, a heavily made-up man in revealing clothes seemed to use his drunkenness to wiggle his waist and lean toward the seat where the “Leader” sat, a flirtatious smile on his face and his voice sickly sweet.
But before he could finish his sentence or even get within a meter, the blonde woman didn’t even look up at him.
She merely frowned ever so slightly, her eyes not even fully focusing on the man.
Her gaze swept icily through the air, her thin lips parting to spit out a single word:
“Scram.”
The voice wasn’t loud, but it seemed laced with ice shards, instantly freezing the man’s movements and smile.
The man’s face turned pale, and he retreated sheepishly, daring not to make another move.
A few suppressed sneers rang out in the living room; clearly, others were mocking his overestimation of himself.
This little interlude made Yuki Haruto’s fear of the “Leader” grow heavier, but it also seemed to faintly confirm the truth of those jokes.
Just as he was feeling restless, his girlfriend Ahui, who was holding him, suddenly leaned close to his ear.
Her warm breath hit his ear, yet it gave him an inexplicable chill.
Ahui’s voice was pitched very low, carrying a cruel tone he had never heard before:
“Haruto, you go over now… and keep the Leader company.”
This sentence exploded in Yuki Haruto’s ear like a clap of thunder.
He snapped his head around, his eyes widening in disbelief as he looked at his girlfriend’s face, which was inches away.
There was no guilt or unease on Ahui’s face, only a calculating expression full of eagerness to please, and even a hint of excitement.
“No… Ahui…”
Yuki Haruto’s voice warped due to extreme shock and terror.
The blood drained from his face instantly, leaving it deathly pale, and his lips trembled uncontrollably.
“I… aren’t I your boyfriend? How can you… how can you make me go…”
He subconsciously grabbed the fabric at Ahui’s chest tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.
He looked up at her with large eyes instantly filled with moisture, written with terror, confusion, and immense grievance, as if trying to find a trace of a joke or a test on her face.
But he saw only impatience.
“Oh, what do you know!”
The shred of feigned gentleness on Ahui’s face vanished completely, replaced by undisguised annoyance and contempt.
She slapped the boy’s hand away from her clothes with such force that the back of Haruto’s hand immediately turned red.
“What does it matter? You’re not losing anything anyway! Do you know what status the Leader has? Being chosen by her is your blessing! Don’t be ungrateful!”
Yuki Haruto felt a buzzing in his ears, and the sounds of the whole world seemed to recede.
He stared blankly at his girlfriend’s familiar yet strange face, watching those cold, heartless words that objectified him spill from her mouth.
Somewhere in his heart—a corner that had firmly believed in love, in trust, and in being special to one another—emitted a clear, ear-piercing cracking sound.
The shards scattered, cutting his insides until they ached.
He didn’t know how he was pulled up from the sofa by Ahui, or how he was half-shoved, half-dragged to stand staggering before the tall woman sitting in the master’s seat.
His mind was a total blank, his body stiff as a board. Only his heart beat frantically and desperately in his chest, every throb bringing despair and suffocating pain.
Then, he heard the voice behind him—the voice of the girlfriend who had once whispered sweet nothings and promised to protect him—speak to the blonde woman clearly.
She used a tone he had never heard before, full of fawning and flattery, as if introducing a piece of merchandise:
“Leader, with your status, you certainly can’t play with our leftovers. That would be too dirty. Look at this one, what do you think? I haven’t touched him. He’s clean, still a virgin!”