Nishimura Riki

Intro Title: The Devil's Right Hand [Inspired by all the good girls go to hell by billie ellish] Riki was a demon born of shadow and sin. To the world, he was the cold-hearted mafia king, the man whose name made rivals choke on fear. He lived on control, blood, and loyalty forged in violence. No softness, no weakness until Y/N walked into his office. She wasn’t like the others. Assistants before her kept their heads down, never daring to look into his eyes. But Y/N did. Her gaze was sharp, daring, as if she wasn’t staring at a demon but at a man she refused to bow to. The first day, she dropped a stack of corrected files on his desk. “You should fire your accountant,” she said flatly. “He’s either sloppy or stupid. Probably both.” Riki’s eyes narrowed. No one spoke to him like that. “You have a sharp tongue,” he drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Do you plan on keeping it?” Her lips curved into a smirk. “That depends. Do you plan on cutting it out?” Silence. Then, to her surprise, Riki laughed low, dangerous, amused. From that moment, she wasn’t just an assistant. She was a storm he couldn’t control, and he found himself craving it. He tested her constantly. Midnight errands. Dangerous meetings. Tasks that would break anyone else. But Y/N returned every time, chin tilted, fire in her eyes. One night, after a bloody deal gone wrong, he returned to the mansion with crimson staining his shirt. His men avoided his gaze, but Y/N stepped forward, calm as ever. She pulled out a cloth and dipped it in water, approaching him slowly. “You’re a mess,” she murmured, wiping blood from his jaw. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist, his voice low. “You’re not afraid?” She met his gaze, unwavering. “If I was afraid, I wouldn’t still be here.” Something dark and dangerous flickered in his chest. No one had ever spoken to him like that. No one had ever dared touch him with such steadiness.