𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨. - 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨 {✓}

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫.

they would always tell you that money can't buy you anything that would bring you genuine happiness.

that money is nothing but pieces of paper that divided the world between the rich and the poor- between the ones with power and ones without it.

mostly it would be our older relatives who'd sit us down and tell us all about saving and spending our moneys wisely.

they were right of course, but l/n y/n was too busy counting on her stacks to even care about that right now.

the twenty-three year old woman sat on top of her chair, legs fully exposed to her loyal subordinates as cases of cash was sprawled on her feet.

in the eyes of the public, she's viewed as nothing but a spoiled girl with a rich businessman as a father.

but to those who work for the man and knew her personally- she was anything but spoiled.

she was a strong-willed woman who handles her own group of male subordinates like they were nothing but dogs, having them bow down at her every command without complaints.

and oh- her father was more than just a businessman.

for he is the seventh generation leader of the port mafia, the biggest yakuza group to ever roam the streets of tokyo.

so y/n's really more to it than those rumours that you'd hear leaving those jealous women's lips just because they couldn't afford what she has.

"hey- isn't this supposed to be twenty-million yen? where's the other ten?"

her subordinates watched in silence as they stayed in their positions on guard, hearing the loud clicking of her heels as she left her chair and up at the tied man who's bleeding on her velvet carpets.

the man let out a pained cry when she buried her sharp stilettos on his open wound with no mercy.

(e/c) eyes coldly glared at him as she waited in faux patience for the man to speak up.

"well?"

"i promise to give it to you soon-!" he was cut off when the woman successfully shoved her entire stiletto heel inside his wound, him letting out a pained scream as he tried getting away from her.

did he really think that he can get away from the l/n y/n?

"who do you pigs think we are to wait for your dirty ass money? my father told you to give it in full, right?"

(h/c) hair cascaded down her shoulders as she leaned forward, glaring down at the man while subtly moving her heel deeper into his flesh.

she was notorious for a twenty-three year old woman if her subordinates do say so themselves.

"he did- he did! but we we're short on-"

it was quiet for a moment, everyone watching as the man's body slumped forward. her fingers caressed the trigger, glaring at his bleeding figure in disgust.

her subordinates immediately went to her side, one cleaning her heels and the other two heaving the dead body away from her office.

"they should've known better than to mess with me."

the cold look on her eyes softened, letting out a sigh as she went back to sit on her chair- walking on the bloodied out money like it was nothing but a rag for her feet.

being the port mafia's debt collector has both it's pro's and it's cons- one of which is being able to get a hold on stacks of money without consequences and the other was getting her favorite pair of heels dirty of blood.