19 | The Yakuza

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𝐇𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕

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𝐇𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐎𝐕


I've finally made up my mind. I'm tired of loving Danielle in silence. Today is the day I'm going to propose to her and tell everyone that she is mine, no matter what it takes.

I push open the door of the luxury ring store, greeted by a soft ding and the sight of sparkling rings in glass cases. Workers and customers bustle around. I scan the clear cases, admiring the array of rings displayed inside.

Everything is so beautiful. I'm searching for one that is delicate yet luxurious, something that will definitely fit Danielle perfectly.

A worker approaches me with a warm smile, asking politely, "Hi, what can I help you with today, miss?"

I look at her, unsure of what to say. I've always struggled with social interactions—Danielle usually helps me out in these situations.

"Uh, I actually... want to buy a ring for my girlfriend. I want to propose to her today," I manage to say, my voice a bit shaky.

"Ah, I see. Do you have any particular style in mind? We have a wide range of options, from classic solitaires to more intricate designs," she explains, gesturing towards the various displays.

"I'm looking for something delicate but still luxurious. Something that would really suit her."

"Of course. Let me show you a few options that might be perfect for her." She leads me to a section with a variety of elegant rings. "These are some of our most popular designs. Do any of these catch your eye?"

I gaze at the rings. My eyes land on a stunning piece with a delicate band and a single, dazzling diamond.

"That one." I point to it. "It's beautiful."

The worker smiles, carefully taking the ring out of the display case. "This is one of our most exquisite pieces. The diamond is of the highest quality, and the band is made of 18k white gold. It definitely would look lovely on your girlfriend."

"How much does it cost?"

"Only €12,000."

It's a lot, but I don't care. Danielle is worth every penny.

"I'll take it."

I test the ring on my own finger. Danielle's hands are about the same size as mine, just a bit smaller. It fits perfectly.

The worker carefully wraps the ring in soft tissue paper before placing it in a small, elegant box.

I open it, lift the ring, and let the light catch its facets. The cool metal feels smooth in my hand as I turn it over.

Suddenly, a shuriken whizzes past me, narrowly missing my head. I dodge, catching the weapon mid-air. The worker screams, immediately hiding and crouching down.

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