Y/n pov
As we entered, the chatter and soft jazz inside spilled out, elegant and expensive. The hall shimmered with chandeliers, black and red decor wrapping the place in gothic charm. People dressed in suits and dresses turned as we passed. Some nodded respectfully at Yuri. Others looked at me—curious, calculating.
But I didn't care.
Because he was holding my hand like I was the only one that mattered.
We moved through the crowd until we reached the main lounge.
Suddenly, a voice echoed from across the room—
"Yuri!"
A tall man in a deep navy velvet suit walked toward us, drink in hand, smirking.
But what truly caught me off guard—was who stood beside him.
Keifer.
And not just him—the rest of the boys too, dressed in sleek, elegant suits, looking like they walked out of a luxury magazine photoshoot.
"Keifer…?" My eyes widened as I blinked, surprised.
He gave me a charming grin. "Hello, Y/N. Long time no see."
The others chimed in too, smiling and nodding at me. The energy was warm—familiar—and yet, strangely formal in this setting.
"Heyy… how are you guys?" I smiled, unable to hide my curiosity.
"What are you doing here?"
Keifer chuckled, swirling the drink in his hand.
"Workplace?" he teased, raising a brow at Yuri.
"Didn't he tell you? We're not just 'the boys' anymore. We work with Hanamitchi."
My eyes shifted to Yuri. He gave me a sheepish smile and leaned in.
"They're my trusted crew now. I was going to tell you tonight."
Keifer added with a grin, "Yup. We don't just hang out anymore—we run the field with your man."
I blinked, processing it all.
From after-school troublemakers to being part of this—Yuri's world. And now… my world too?
"Damn… you guys clean up good," I finally joked, earning laughter from all of them.
Yuri pulled me closer by the waist, his voice low near my ear.
"I told you tonight would be special."
The lights dimmed slightly, casting a warm golden glow across the grand hall. The guests slowly gathered around the central stage as a soft chime rang through the room, signaling someone was about to speak.
Haru Hanamitchi, looking regal in a black traditional-cut suit with a crimson tie, stepped up on the platform. All eyes turned toward him—some with respect, some with curiosity, and a few with quiet tension.
He raised his glass.
"Hello, everyone," his voice firm and commanding, echoing through the ornate room.
"Today is the day… my one and only inheritor has officially joined our base. The future of Hanamitchi stands right beside me now."
He paused and looked toward the side.
"Meet my son—Yuri Hanamitchi."
A murmur spread across the room like a wave of surprise and awe.
Yuri stepped forward confidently from the shadows, dressed in his signature black suit, crisp white shirt still slightly open at the chest. His medium mullet swayed slightly as he walked. In his hand—a crystal champagne glass. His presence alone shifted the atmosphere.
He stood by his father's side, raising his glass slightly to the crowd.
"Hello," he began, voice calm but firm, charisma oozing from every word.
"Yuri Hanamitchi will not disappoint you in the upcoming years."
He lifted his glass higher.
"To strength, loyalty, and a future we'll build together."
Clinks of glasses followed.
The room erupted in applause. Whispers spread through the corners of the crowd.
Beside the stage, I stood frozen for a second—watching the man I loved take his rightful place in a world of power, respect, and danger.
My heart swelled.
He's not just Yuri anymore.
He's Yuri Hanamitchi.
The music flowed, and the party carried on in full swing. I was chatting with Keifer and the boys, laughing over an old memory when something tugged at the corner of my eye.
My smile slowly faded.
Across the hall, near the far side of the marble staircase—Yuri stood with his father, surrounded by powerful-looking men in suits. Polished smiles, firm handshakes, and that typical business-like charisma he carried so naturally.
But what didn't belong there—was her.
A girl. Dressed in a sleek backless black dress, her movements too deliberate, her laughter a little too loud. She leaned in closer to Yuri than necessary, her hand brushing his arm as if she owned it.
What. The. Hell.
I squinted slightly. Her back… that face. She looked familiar.
Then it hit me.
No way…
Not her.
I stepped slightly forward, trying not to make it obvious, my heart doing small flips between annoyance and confusion.
What is she doing here?
Why is she touching my Yuri?
Keifer, noticing the shift in my expression, leaned closer.
"You okay?"
I didn't take my eyes off the scene.
"Who invited her?" I asked, almost under my breath.
Keifer glanced over his shoulder, then groaned.
"Ah… you mean Freya?"
His voice was low, cautious.
Freya.
That name rolled through my mind like a cold wind.
Freya.
I blinked slowly. The girl now practically glued to Yuri's side. Laughing, tilting her head, her fingers resting too casually on his wrist—was Freya.
Keifer continued, "Her father's one of Hanamitchi's senior council. Big guy in logistics. She's kind of… always been around."
I nodded slowly, trying to process.
So she's not just some party crasher. She belongs here too.
My heart sank a little.
Not because I didn't trust Yuri. I did.
But seeing someone else this close to him—acting like she had every right to—hurt.
I looked back at them.
Yuri was polite. Nodding. His smile wasn't the one he gave me.
But still—he wasn't pulling away from her either.
And that…
That stung.
I swallowed hard and whispered, more to myself than anyone else,
"I don't know… my heart doesn't feel okay right now."
Keifer's voice came softer this time.
"Hey… he's yours. You know that, right?"
I nodded again, eyes never leaving that spot.
After hours and hours… finally, Yuri came to me.
His eyes were tired, a bit red, but there was a softness in them I hadn't seen in a while.
Beside me, the boys were also here—David, Felix, all grinning like they'd been waiting for this moment too.
David smirked, crossing his arms. "Hey, Yuri… busy, huh?"
Yuri gave a small, guilty laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry, bro…"
Before he could say more, Felix jumped in, wagging his finger dramatically. "Bro, be careful about Freya, or else I'm not saving you from our sister-in-law's wrath!"
He and David both cracked up, nudging Yuri like mischievous kids.
Yuri shot them a glare but couldn't help the tiny smile pulling at his lips. His eyes flicked toward me, and for a second, it was just us again, the teasing fading into the background.
He stepped closer, lowering his voice so only I could hear.
" im sorry babe"
The night felt too long for me…
Not in a bad way—but in that kind of quiet, aching way where time stretches and emotions sit heavy on your chest.
After the party, the laughter, and the teasing, everyone slowly went their way. But Yuri didn't drop me off.
He didn't even ask.
We just… drove. No music. Just the hum of the engine and the weight of everything unsaid.
And then we ended up at his hideout—
Then softly, he asked, "Do you remember the first time I brought you here?"
I looked at him, a small smirk playing on my lips. "Umm… you were fighting against Hawls. Blood all over. You looked like a mess."
Yuri chuckled, low and genuine. "I miss that time…"
I raised a brow. "You hated me back then."
He turned to me quickly, a hint of guilt in his eyes. "I didn't…"
"Liar," I teased, half-serious, half-smiling.
"Babe, I didn't," he said, stepping closer. "I was just… confused. Because my dad treated you more nicely. Like… like you were the child he actually wanted."
That caught me off guard. The air shifted.
Yuri looked down, jaw clenched like he'd been holding that in for years. "It messed me up, y/n."
We walked hand in hand into the house—his hideout, our secret place just for the night.
Both of us were drained from the party, from the laughter, the memories, the weight of being surrounded.
But here… it was just us.
Quiet. Real.
Tomorrow, we'd be apart again.
Different roads. Different roles.
But tonight? We had this.
I didn't say much. Neither did he.
I found my way to his drawer and slipped into one of his old tees—the one that hung a little loose on me, smelled faintly like his cologne and old books.
Yuri glanced over, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes softened, the corners of his mouth lifting into the kind of smile he only saved for me.
"You always look better in my clothes," he whispered.
I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the shy smile that tugged at my lips. "That's why I steal them."
He stepped closer, hands gently finding my waist. "I wish I could freeze this moment," he murmured, pressing his forehead against mine. "Just one night without time chasing us."
I closed my eyes, breathing him in.
We laid down on the bed, the room dim and quiet, the world slowly fading behind us.
His arm slipped under my neck, pulling me in closer, like even this small space between us was too far.
Our hands found each other in the dark, fumbling slightly—fingers tracing knuckles, brushing palms, finally locking together like puzzle pieces made to fit.
He let out a soft sigh, one that brushed against my hair.
Neither of us said a word.
There was no need.
Our eyes closed, breaths syncing, hearts speaking in a language older than words.
Every blink, every heartbeat, was a silent promise.