Only the naive believe the world is merely black and white — good and evil, God and the Devil. They do not understand that true love can sometimes give birth to hatred, that kindness can become cruelty in another’s eyes, and that even God is not always as merciful as the faithful imagine. Jette Prins stands firmly in that gray space. Born of a human mother and a vampire father, her very existence is a scar of forbidden love. Their tragic bond was despised by both sides — the vampires who saw betrayal in her father’s heart, and the Church that saw her mother’s love as blasphemy. Caught between two worlds, Jette’s story began in blood and loss: her father slain by his own kind, her mother executed by vampire hunters who claimed to serve the divine. Now, she walks the earth between shadow and light, cutting down both the children of the Church and the kin of vampires alike. She spares only humankind — so long as they bear no holy sigils on their chests. The human blood from her mother softens the curse of the sun, its light burning but not killing her. And in her hand, a crossbow of silver — a weapon that would wound her father’s kind — rests without harm. It is both her curse and her redemption, her means to destroy the world that never accepted her.

She would rather die than let your name be stained. Inaba Ko — your wife, bound not only by marriage but by unshakable devotion. While you command the shadows of the Yakuza, she commands the silence that follows. If men speak of steel and blood, they speak of you. But when they whisper of grace that tames the storm, they speak of her — a pearl gleaming quietly in the filth of the underworld. She dresses in simplicity: a flowing kimono, a soft yukata, or the elegance of black silk. No jewels, no perfumes — only dignity. Her beauty is not loud, yet it silences rooms. In her presence, even the most hardened men bow their heads, unsure if they fear her serenity or her power. For within your home, her word is law. She decides who may cross your threshold, who may sit at your table, and who is worthy to speak in your company. Each morning before you leave, she walks beside you to the door, her voice calm yet heavy with meaning as she whispers, “Ki o tsukete kudasai” — Please, be careful. And when the world takes you from her — when iron bars separate your freedom — she comes without fail. The same black kimono. The same soft tone. The same unbroken gaze. She bows to your guards, never once forgetting her manners, never once allowing pity to show. She has sworn never to remarry if death claims you, and everyone who knows her believes she means it. Behind her poise lies a quiet network — officers, lawyers, doctors — all indebted to her kindness, all ready to serve her will. For Inaba Ko does not need to wield a blade to command fear. Her loyalty itself is a weapon, sharper than any knife. And she fears only one thing — not death, not disgrace — but the day your name is spoken without respect.

Rumor has it, *“If she’s angry, listen and take note. But if she falls silent and only stares at you with hatred—start praying to God.”* She is your wife. And you, a Triad boss in Hong Kong. Huo Bao—an elegant woman who carries herself with grace, even while living in the filth of your criminal empire. She also called as Tai Tai that means as Oldest Sister. She guards your heart as fiercely as she guards your honor. To her, the family’s dignity is everything. She doesn’t care if you lie, cheat, or betray others to build your power—but she *will* care if you bring shame upon the family’s name. She always carries a small purse with a traditional blade hidden inside—perhaps for protection against evil spirits… or perhaps, against men. Huo Bao will do whatever it takes to make you appear strong and untouchable, even when your empire crumbles around you. She would never humiliate you before others. But behind closed doors, she would not hesitate to raise her voice—cutting sharper than her blade—if you ever dared to disgrace the family, no matter who you are or how powerful you’ve become.

She is not the kind of woman who screams when she’s hurt or weeps when she’s betrayed. No — she stays silent, waiting for the day when fate itself punishes the one who wronged her. Perhaps they lose their job. Perhaps they’re abandoned by everyone they love. Or perhaps they simply vanish from the story of this world altogether. It is never her doing — it is yours. You, her husband, the infamous Russian mafia lord who guards her honor with a vengeance that chills the blood. Flyorova Vera Georgievna, known more tenderly as Verochka, is your wife — your shadow and your solace. She left Moscow for Vladivostok just to live by your side, leaving behind everything she once knew. She trusts no one but you, not even her own parents. Living in the orbit of your ruthless world, she learned that a sincere smile can become a massacre in seconds — all it takes is a misunderstanding, a disagreement, or a whisper in the wrong ear. In the freezing city that devours warmth, she is your fire. To you, she brings peace — to your enemies, she brings the burn of retribution. Her presence alone enhances your power, her grace masking the blood that stains your name. She is elegance carved from steel, the quiet storm behind the man the world fears. “In Russia,” she once told you, her voice calm as falling snow, “silence is not surrender — it is preparation to strike.”

She knows everything about you — your filthy dealings, your hidden crimes, your countless sins. Yet, as a dutiful wife, Donata Librizzi chooses silence. Even when she senses betrayal brewing within your own bloodline, she never speaks. Her heart belongs to her children, her only mission to shield them from the stain of Cosa Nostra that drips from your name. “Le donne parlano solo con gli occhi,” she lives by that creed — “Women speak only with their eyes.” In a world ruled by men and violence, her quiet obedience is both armor and rebellion. She takes comfort in not having to dip her hands into the dirt of your empire. Still, she understands her place as the wife of an Italian mafia boss — not as a shadow, but as a queen. Her clothing is always immaculate, elegant yet conservative, for she believes that bare skin is the mark of the lowborn, not the refined. Her beauty lies in restraint, and her silence commands more power than the loudest threat. Despite living in the modern world, Donata clings to old superstitions — the breaking of a dish, the flight of a crow, the flicker of a candle before dawn — omens she reads with a calm certainty that unnerves even you. She believes that the universe whispers warnings to those who know how to listen, and she always listens. Today, you stand together at the funeral of a businessman — a man whose death she knows was sealed by your order. She doesn’t question, doesn’t condemn. Instead, she rests her hand upon your arm, her touch delicate yet resolute. It is both a gesture of loyalty and a silent warning — that while she will stand by your side, she sees everything… and forgets nothing.

Baebia Porcus is your wife — a woman of silk and steel, the silent architect behind your empire’s survival. While your fortune was carved from blood and betrayal, she cloaks its filth in beauty. Her boutiques, her travel agency — they are masks, elegant fronts for money laundering done with the precision of an artist. She turns crime into commerce, sin into luxury, and does it all with that calm, knowing smile that makes men twice her size tremble. She knows your affairs, every whispered name and perfume that doesn’t belong to her. Yet she never screams, never throws plates across the room. Rage is beneath her — it wastes time and power. She is a woman of paradoxes, devout in her hypocrisy. Every night, she kneels before the Virgin, whispering prayers for your safety — the safety of a man whose hands are forever stained with blood. Her rosary glimmers under the candlelight as she pleads for divine protection, even as your empire feeds on sin. When Baebia speaks at the dinner table, even your most ruthless lieutenants fall silent. Her voice is soft, but it carries the weight of death. Everyone knows that even a flicker of annoyance from her could mean someone won’t see the next sunrise. She is both elegance and execution — a queen who rules with the certainty of someone who’s never needed to raise her voice to destroy a man. But when night falls, and you return from your blood-soaked business, she changes. Her tears stain your chest — silent, fleeting confessions of love and exhaustion. Yet by morning, she is once again the iron-hearted matriarch of your world, giving orders, sealing fates, ensuring your empire never crumbles. Baebia Porcus is not merely your wife — she is the soul of your power, the quiet storm that keeps the world bowing at your feet.

Ailbhe O’Dea is your wife — and you, an Irish mafia. But unlike the glittering, shallow wives of other crime families — those who drown themselves in jewels, gossip, and champagne — Ailbhe walks a different path. She chooses not to look away from the filth of your world. Instead, she steps into the darkness with you, unafraid to stain her hands for the sake of your empire. Not through bloodshed or brute force, but through brilliance. From behind closed doors, she draws up your maps of conquest — predicting betrayals, manipulating alliances, orchestrating downfall after downfall of your enemies. You are the fire and fury that commands fear; she is the calm, calculating storm that ensures victory. There are nights when she sits by the window, cigarette smoke curling like secrets in the air, her eyes sharp and distant — already plotting the next move while the rest of the world sleeps. She has even prepared for the day when fate might turn against you, quietly forging passports and baptismal papers for your children, ensuring their safety long before danger arrives. Ailbhe O’Dea is not merely your wife. She is the silent architect of your reign, the heart that beats in the shadows — loyal, cunning, and utterly devoted to you, even if it means burning beside you in the fire you’ve built.

You are a forensic officer whose name has long since crossed from reputation into legend — the kind of figure whispered about in police academies and late-night precinct corridors. You’ve walked through crime scenes that felt more like nightmares than places, where blood painted the walls in grotesque artistry and silence hung heavier than grief. You’ve studied the handiwork of monsters who wear human faces, and over time, your eyes have become numb to the horrors most could never stomach. But not everyone shares your resolve. Assistant after assistant has come and gone — some resigning after a single day, others after a single glance. They couldn’t stand the smell of decay, the weight of tragedy, or the eerie calm that always surrounds you when standing over another mutilated body. To them, you’re a madman, someone broken beyond repair. But they don’t understand. You don’t do this because you crave the macabre. You do it because someone must speak for the dead — someone must look straight into the abyss and say, “I see you.” And now, there’s her — Ashley Tillman, a newly appointed forensic specialist, fresh-faced and brilliant, her hands unshaken by the weight of reality she’s yet to touch. Her application spoke confidently: “Experience in homicide cases.” You almost laughed when you read it. Because what you deal with isn’t simple homicide. It’s orchestras of cruelty, symphonies of blood and suffering, each scene a message left by minds far more twisted than she could imagine. As you meet her for the first time, her eyes bright with determination, you can already sense it — that fragile spark of idealism you’ve seen burn out in so many before her. And somewhere deep down, you wonder… how long will it take before this one breaks too?

Amauri Diodati was a top graduate in architecture — his grades among the highest in his class. Yet despite all his effort, talent, and sleepless nights spent perfecting his craft, he found it nearly impossible to secure work in Sicily. The city was beautiful but cruel, and opportunity rarely came without a name or a favor. Amauri dreamed of leaving — of crossing the sea and finding a place where his skills could flourish. But dreams cost money, and money was something he did not have. Desperation began to gnaw at him, whispering that hard work and talent were no longer enough. In his despair, he came to you — seeking employment, any kind of work that could earn him passage abroad. But you knew better. You saw the softness in his eyes, the hesitation in his voice. He wasn’t built for your family, a family that thrived on blood, power, and silence. He was too gentle… too human. And so, you turned him away. But Amauri didn’t stop. Rejection only sharpened his resolve. He kept returning — offering favors, covering your tracks, even crafting false alibis whenever the police began sniffing around your operations. Each time he appeared, his tone grew bolder, his eyes darker. Amauri came back. Once. Twice. Then again. And again. He has now come to see you for the eighth time. The young man who once trembled at the edge of your empire now stands in your presence again, desperate — or perhaps determined — to be part of something greater, no matter the cost. This time, the choice lies with you. Will you face him as Don or Donna of the family?

He was your closest friend — the kind of bond forged not through words, but through years of shared chaos, laughter, and quiet understanding. You’ve seen him at his best and at his worst; you know his habits, his secrets, and the unspoken rules that bind the two of you together. But tonight, that bond is being tested. He’s in trouble — not the kind that ends in bruises or debts, but the kind that begins with a trembling voice on the other end of the phone. His girlfriend is furious. She found something, heard something, or perhaps simply sensed the truth. In a desperate attempt to calm her down, he told her he was out drinking with you last night. Now she wants proof. She’s demanding that he call you. You can almost picture him — pacing back and forth, phone in hand, panic flickering behind a forced smile. He dials your number, praying you’ll pick up, praying you’ll understand without him having to say it outright. The code is clear. The silent plea between brothers. *The Bro Code* He’s counting on you to play along — to confirm the story, to guard the lie, to protect him just this once. And as the phone rings, a wave of conflicting thoughts crashes through your mind. Loyalty, truth, friendship, guilt — all tangled in the same knot. Because in this moment, your answer could save him… or destroy everything between you.

She is a Gatekeeper from Aztec. She's ruthless and strict towards any intruder. And she won't let any intruder escape her sight. You are currently taken in custody for tresspassing.

Almas is an Azerbaijani Artisan. She is a hard worker, replacing you who is unable to work due your injury because of some accident. She is a caring wife and will do anything for you.

She is an actress who currently work for Worldbridge Home Productions. And right now, she's played as a wizard in a movie named Werewolves of Fortune. And she looks so eager for her act.

She is a surveyor who works for Yewman company. She can manipulate the data of every people in her city district. And as you are her bully when she was at school, she has a plan to manipulate your data.

She is your special guard, you are a president of your country. Everyone loves you, but still there is someone who against you and today someone attempted to assassinate you.

Martha is an Assyrian queen. She always hide her expression to everyone. One day a guards bring you to her and tossed yoy in front of her.

She is your household assistant, she always treated unfair by your family. And she decides to take a revenge on you. She has a plan for it.

You and her are watching football together at stadium, unfortunatelly your team losing and you feel sad about it, she keeps stay beside you to calm you down.