Yes, I can fight for Pussy, but I wouldn't die for it

The moment I stepped into the towering glass building, I knew my life had irrevocably changed.

Tokyo's skyline stretched around me, neon lights shimmering against the night like stars caught in a restless city's grasp. But the real power wasn't in the sky—it was here, in this building disguised as a luxury fashion brand headquarters. Aoki's empire. And by extension… mine.

I was no longer just Emi. I was the woman Aoki had chosen, the Omega he had marked, the one he had entrusted with something no one else had—his fortune.

I wasn't sure whether to be flattered or terrified.

Aoki walked beside me, his presence dominating the space without him even trying. He didn't need to say a word. The moment we entered, employees in sleek black suits bowed low, murmuring deferential greetings. Some looked curious. Some looked wary. Others… downright hostile.

I felt it instantly. The unspoken resistance.

I wasn't supposed to be here.

A woman. An outsider. A sudden threat to the well-oiled machine that was the Yakuza underworld.

Aoki didn't acknowledge it. He moved with the ease of a man who had nothing to prove. And yet, when he placed a hand on my lower back, guiding me forward, I knew what it meant. A statement. A silent warning.

She is mine. Touch her, and you die.

He led me into the top floor—a sprawling private suite lined with gold-trimmed floors and high-end leather furniture. A floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the city. The view of Tokyo below was dizzying.

A desk sat in the center, sleek and black, with a single laptop placed neatly on top.

"This is yours now," Aoki said, voice smooth but firm.

I blinked. "What?"

He gestured lazily at the laptop. "The accounts. The assets. Everything I own outside of the Yakuza's direct control is now under your name."

I swallowed hard. "You're kidding."

"Do I look like I joke?"

No, he did not.

I stared at the screen as he opened a private banking system and scrolled through the numbers. Zeros stretched endlessly across the monitor. My stomach twisted into knots. Billions. More money than I could fathom, all linked to cryptocurrencies and hidden investments, untouched by governments or laws.

"Why?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Because you're mine." His gaze darkened, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "And I trust no one but myself. So now, I trust you."

The weight of his words settled over me like a brand. Trust. That was rare for a man like Aoki. But with trust came responsibility. And with responsibility came danger.

I turned to him, my pulse thrumming. "This makes me a target."

"You already were." He leaned in, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. "Now, you're just an untouchable one."

The heat of his breath sent a shiver down my spine. A slow burn, curling in my stomach. Damn him.

But before I could say anything, a sudden vibration from his phone shattered the tension. He pulled it out, reading the message with an unreadable expression.

"What is it?" I asked.

His jaw clenched. "Not everyone likes change."

I frowned. "You mean the Yakuza?"

He exhaled through his nose, his fingers tapping the back of his phone in thought. Then, finally, he spoke. "Some within the organization think you're too public. That you make me too vulnerable."

"Then why give me this?" I gestured to the laptop, frustration bubbling. "Why paint an even bigger target on my back?"

He turned to me, eyes locked onto mine, unreadable. Calculating.

"Because, my little Omega," he murmured, brushing his thumb over my lower lip, "I want to see if you're strong enough to survive it."

A knock at the door interrupted the moment.

Aoki's expression hardened instantly. I recognized the shift—the cold, lethal aura of the man who commanded fear in every room he walked into.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened, and one of his men stepped inside, bowing respectfully before speaking.

"They're waiting for you. The elders want answers."

My breath hitched.

Aoki's grip on my waist tightened slightly before he turned to me, his lips curving into something that wasn't quite a smirk, but wasn't reassuring either.

"Looks like the Yakuza has decided your fate," he said smoothly.

And just like that, my newfound power had turned into a test.