Hanma Shuji is a powerful man known for his merciless ways of execution, a full blown thug and one of the crime lords who rule the underground. Everyone in the illegal scene knows what happens when they cross paths with the infamous Reaper of Tokyo.
But despite the fearful titles attached to his name, you still serve him—because you're his secretary. And those titles, sometimes, don't matter when he's acting like an insufferable, spoiled child and a complete piece of shit. (you're not mad, just tired)
The beginning of him: Became His Secretary
Hanma Shuji doesn't like his coffee bitter. Or so you think. After six months as his secretary, you notice he never consumes anything sweets. Just cold water and cigarettes. Naturally, you assume he hates sugar.
"Make me a coffee, y/n" he says, pretending to be buried in paperwork. You know that act won't last. He'll get bored, dump the real work on you, and go back to lounging.
Assuming he wants it pure and black (just like his soul), you return from the pantry and set the cup on his desk. Just as you sit down, he hisses. "What the fuck is this shit, y/n?"
"Is something wrong with your coffee, sir?" you asked, trying not to panic and trigger a potential workplace murder.
"This is so bitter. What did you brew? A fucking bitter melon? Put some sugar in it"
You pause. Sugar? Isn't that against his religion or something? Still in confusion, you go back and added just half a tablespoon.
"I apologize for my mistake, sir" you say, handing over the revised cup. He sips, and a frown immediately etches across his face.
"Just say you hate me, y/n" he mutters, pointing to the cup like it personally offends him. "Because if you didn't, you wouldn't serve me this bitter bomb"
You consider your options:
1. Make him another coffee
Option 2 is illegal, but it's soothing.
"I did add sugar" you insist.
"Well, I didn't taste it" he snaps, rolling his eyes like the dramatic diva he is.
The rest of the day, you're stuck making coffee after coffee. On the fourth try, frustration takes over, so you added enough sugar to send him into a diabetic coma.
"I apologize again, sir. Here's your coffee. I put a lot of sugar in it" you say through clenched teeth.
He takes a sip and then smirks. "This! This is how you make my coffee!"
You nod, but can't resist muttering, "You could've just said you wanted enough sugar to kill an elephant"
Too late to take it back. You're about to mentally slap yourself for the slip-up when you heard him laugh. Rich, deep voice roaring within the four walls of the office. "Well, you didn't ask"
Because you hate sweets, asshole! you scream in your head.
Hanma Shuji wants you to bring a lighter at all times. He needs it as a smoker, and it's your responsibility as his secretary to always have one.
As second-in-command in Toman, Hanma attends various galas and events. Aside from executing enemies or overseeing illegal activities, he goes to these events to scout and gather information for the gang. That doesn't mean he doesn't get bored. So, as his secretary, it's your job to keep him at these events as long as possible, or you higher boss, Kisaki Tetta, might just serve both your heads on a silver platter.
"This is so boring. I need to smoke" he says, standing up. His six foot frame towers almost everyone. He's about to go outside when you suddenly appear at his side, startling him a bit.
"Jesus, y/n!" he exclaims, looking down at you. You almost laughed at his shock expression.
"Hanma-san, you're not allowed to leave this event until 9 PM", you remind him.
"I know, I know. I'm just gonna smoke outside. Geez, hop off my dick" he mutters, rolling his eyes as he walks toward the exit. Though he's clearly irritated, you still follow him.
Outside, Hanma pulls out a cigarette from his pocket and abruptly turns to you. "Lighter?"
"Uh..." you start rummaging through your purse, knowing full well you won't find one because you don't even smoke. "I don't have a lighter, sir."
Before his sigh of irritation can fully escape, you asked if you can go back inside to find someone who does.
Your feet ache from running through the ballroom, asking every man you pass if they have a lighter. Hanma needs his smoke and if he doesn't get it, either he'll whine all night (which is incredibly annoying), or he'll vanish with some random girl. Damn him. Why doesn't he just bring his own lighter? He's a smoker for fuck's sake.
After ten exhausting minutes, you finally borrowed a lighter. You rush back outside, only to see him already smoking, and when he spots you approaching, he smirks. "You're late" he says, blowing smoke in your face.
"It was difficult to find a lighter, sir. A lot of them don't smoke" you reply, seething with frustration. Your feet scream in protest after all that running, only to find him halfway through his maybe second stick. You want to choke him, really.
"I forgot I have one" he says, clearly enjoying the blank expression on your face. He knows you're holding yourself back from kicking him in the shin. "You could've told me from the start"
"Well, it's still your responsibility to bring a lighter. You know I smoke all the time" his voice is full of teasing.
This fucking menace. It's like he'd die if he didn't make your life miserable.
You've had enough. You turn and decided to head back inside.
Just as you're about to enter the hotel, you spot a pebble in the small garden outside. You pick it up, and with the precision of a sci-fi movie protagonist, you throw it.
You jump at what you've done, giggling when you see him scratch his head. You know it didn't hit hard, but the satisfaction of your little revenge is enough to send you back inside with a smile.
Hanma Shuji watches your retreating figure, amused. You did throw a pebble at him.
Hanma Shuji is a pain in the ass when he's drunk. And you experience it when you're trying your best to drag his giant body inside the elevator.
It is midnight, and you're still in the office finishing some papers when calls you. With slurred words along with booming music in the background, he asks you to pick him up at some club in Tokyo. After arguing with him to have one of his men pick him up instead, you end up fetching him.
And now, you're out of breath, trying to balance your walk while assisting him from the side. His arm is wrapped around your shoulder, while your arm is around his waist. Damn it. He's literally 6 ft tall, a giant, and it takes all your strength to hold him up so the two of you don't fall face-first on the floor.
"Hanma-san, please help me out here. Don't fall asleep or we won't reach your floor" you say, panting. Oh how many times it crosses your mind to just leave him on the street. It isn't your conscience holding you back (this man does not have one, so why should you?) It's that death would follow if Kisaki Tetta discovers that you left his underboss on the streets shitfaced.
You push him onto the big couch when you finally get inside his penthouse. He groans when his head hits the armrest. It isn't intentional, really.
Hanma is finally in his safe space, so you think you can leave his premises, until he calls you, stopping you in your tracks.
His next words are slurred, so you lean your face closer to him.
"Hanma-san, you're in your penthouse now. So, I will go ho—"
"Stay" he whispers, eyes still closed.
It makes you freeze for a moment, and then a sigh escapes you. You don't answer him, but instead make a mental note to prepare his medicine so he won't whine like a bitch tomorrow.
You're about to stand up when his arms wrap around you, making the two of you hair's breadth apart.
"Hanma-san, I need to go home no—" "I said stay, y/n"
He opens his eyes. Golden orbs almost hypnotize you into staying. But you know better than to believe the words of a drunk man.
When you didn't move, he leans closer. So close you can smell his perfume mixed with alcohol and cigarettes. And his grips suddenly tightens on your top.
However, you realize this isn't the right time for....whatever this is about to be, so you stand up abruptly.
And you heard a ripping sound.
Because he was gripping you tightly.
And then he falls asleep.
You stomp your foot, annoyed. Trying to hold your poor blouse together, you yank the pillow beside him and smack it into his face. He groans but keeps sleeping like a rock.
Barely keeping your sanity intact, you stomp toward the door, clutching the torn fabric so your bra won't be exposed. But not before giving your boss one final pillow slap to the face.
What. A. Pain. In. The. Ass
Hanma Shuji hates feeling cold. That's why he's here, trying to squeeze his tall body into your workstation because he hates feeling cold. And the office feels like it's been blasted with snow (his words)
Unfortunately, your space is the only warm place where he can wedge his giant self in.
"Hanma-san, I can't work properly if you're going to keep hogging my space" you deadpan. "Please go back to your desk. I already asked someone to bring us another heater"
Hanma looks at your standing figure in front of him. He literally drags a chair beside you after discovering that your station is warmer than the rest of this four-walled prison (his words, again)
"Sir, please. I can't even face my computer properly" you protest. He's sprawled at your side, broad shoulders nearly blocking the entire screen of your computer.
"What do you mean? There's a bit space for you" he scoots slightly to the side, almost mocking you with his forced generosity. "And don't you like it? As your boss, I can watch you work. Consider it employee monitoring" he adds with a smirk.
Well, employee monitoring doesn't necessarily mean watching you this closely. You sigh, knowing he won't budge no matter what you do. He'll just argue that he's your boss and you need to follow orders.
You sit down and start working, a bit uncomfortable because of the minimal space he's given you. And you'll try your best not to be distracted by his presence.
Minutes pass, and your bored boss starts touching everything on your table. He plays with your pen first, trying to copy your signature on a piece of paper. Then he gets curious about your staple remover.
"You remove staple wires with that"
A few more minutes pass, and suddenly your side goes quiet. No more movements bumping your chair. No more long fingers messing your desk. Just complete silence. So, you turn your head, only to see him already asleep on your table, head pillowed on his arms.
You prop your cheek on you hand and stare at him for a good minute.
Standing at six feet, broad shoulders, and ridiculously handsome face—these are the traits that make up Hanma Shuji. Not to mention, he's strong, cunning, and ruthless. Deadly combination indeed. A man truly built to be bowed down to.
But among all the qualities that make him a true crime lord, there's one thing you love most about him: his eyes.
Those golden yellow orbs that look at everyone with menace, and yet somehow hypnotize you. One look from him and you know, even if you weren't his secretary, you'd still be mesmerized enough to let him get away with his antics. Disgustingly beautiful and dangerous.
You silently opened your lower cabinet and pull out the small blanket you keep inside. He's going to wake up later with an aching neck and back, but he won't be annoyed, because it won't be cold anymore. Or so you hope, as you gently cover him with a blanket.
Hanma Shuji is an asshole. That's the conclusion you come to as you walk out of the conference room, barely holding back your tears.
It isn't normal. You've been a secretary at different companies for years and never once catch feelings for anyone in the workplace. Not a colleague, and especially not your boss.
Your job and personal life are always separate, clearly divided. Then again, you're not sure how much of a personal life you have left, given how much of yourself you pour into this career. Still, day after day, 9 to 5, you remind yourself to keep emotions out of the equation.
Until that strange feeling starts stirring in your chest every time you interact with Hanma.
At first, it was just work, but over time, things begin to shift. You start seeing him in a different light, suddenly, he stops being your boss.
He becomes a man you like.
A man you'd hold on to and wrap your arms, if only you were allowed. That's when it hit you: you like your boss.
Even though you literally work under a crime syndicate, with a crime lord as you boss, you know that falling for him is wrong. So, you keep your feelings hidden, buried deep.
Until today's meeting shatters your resolve.
It's an informal gathering where guns and strategies are laid on the table. And then, suddenly, a woman from another gang walks in. The moment she arrived, she eyed Hanma and decided it's better to sit beside him. And now, they're keep flirting with each other.
You've seen this before: women trying to charm Toman's second-in-command, and him going along with it, no hesitation. In the past, you just shrug and remind him to use protection.
But this time is different. Your eyes sting. Your chest aches. You watch as she clings to his arm, their hushed voices making your stomach turn.
You have front row seats to their flirting, and though you want to storm out, you stay. Because you're still his secretary after all.
You try to distract yourself by gluing your eyes to your laptop. And it was a big mistake when you suddenly looks up, just for a second, and catch the sight of Hanma biting her ear.
You bite your lip hard. And try your hardest to avoid eye contact with anyone.
You feel so fucking stupid.
This is exactly why you try not to entertain any feelings for him. Even though sometimes you feel he is so fond of you when he let you get away with your little revenges and snide remarks. You know it doesn't mean anything, and falling for him would be a huge mistake.
An hour drags by before Kisaki finally adjourns the meeting. You didn't waste a second, you stand up and bolt out of the conference room.
The tears you hold in all that time finally spill the moment you step into the restroom.
"Why are you crying, you idiot" you whispered to yourself, trembling hands trying to wipe away the tears. "Of all the people to fall for, you choose that asshole. Seriously, y/n"
But the truth is, that asshole is the only one you want, to meet you eye to eye and tell you he feels the same. But too bad, he's beside another woman.
Eventually, the tears stop. You fix your appearance and pull yourself together. There are more important things to do than fall apart in a bathroom.
You walk out, your professional mask already in place, ready to face him again.
Ready to be what you're supposed to be: his secretary.
And no matter how hard it gets, you'll try to keep your feelings hidden.
Hanma Shuji and his secretary. Just his secretary—nothing else. You remind yourself of that everyday, so much that you decided that it's better to distance yourself from your boss. You only talk to him when it's about work, never entertaining anything outside your job description.
No more banter. No more office shenanigans. No more petty revenge. Just work.
It's better this way, you think. Getting close to him means falling deeper without anyone to catch you.
You keep this act, not knowing that Hanma is getting antsy about your behavior.
You don't know it, but Hanma lives for teasing you. Your reactions bring life this otherwise dull office, and now you're keeping that from him. The lack of response from you made him restless, and it feels like you don't want to be near him. He doesn't like it.
So he tries a different tactic. If annoying hasn't worked these past few days, maybe a change in approach will.
This time, he decides to be sweet, so he buys you your favorite dessert. He’s noticed how you always eat that strawberry cake after lunch. Every time, he watches you devour it, and you try your hardest not to do your little happy dance after swallowing. You don’t know it, but he treasures those moments so much. He never tells you how fucking adorable you are or teases you about them.
"Here" he says, placing the familiar box on your desk. "Someone gave it to me. I don't like sweets, so it's yours"
He doesn't wait for your response, just turns and walks back to his chair.
You didn't say anything, just a small acknowledging nod and then you continue working.
You've already had your lunch, so now he waits. Waits for the moment you'll open the box, eat the cake, and light up the room with that smile again.
But thirty minutes passed, you haven't even touched the box. It just sits there, looking out of place on your desk. He sighs. This isn't going to work.
He doesn't leave the office when he usually does. Typically, before sunset, he's out to do his real job. He's a criminal after all, and nights are when his world comes alive, but today, he stays. And you did not ask why.
But you feel it, the gaze he bored into you all day.
"You going home?" he asks, seeing you start to pack your things. The box of dessert still untouched.
"Yes, sir. It's already five"
He stands up, stretching. "Let's go"
You look at him, nonchalant expression almost slipping.
"I'm going home, sir" you repeated.
"Yeah? That's why I said let's go. I'll take you home"
What is he up to? Even though your heart starts to pound, you know you shouldn't agree with him.
"Thank you, sir. But I'll just take the train—"
"What's wrong, y/n? You've been acting weird" he walks towards you, his towering figure stopping in front of your desk.
"I don't know what you're talking about, sir. But if I did something wrong, I deeply apologize—"
"There, there. You're acting so professional" golden eyes lock onto yours, and suddenly, he bends down, cornering you against your desk.
Your heartbeat goes wild and you try to hide it by avoiding his gaze, but the closeness only makes it worse.
"I am always professional, sir" you say, like that explains everything.
"Yeah? Throwing pebbles at my head, changing my laptop's password, smacking me with a pillow, and hiding my cigarettes—that's all professional" sarcasm drips from his deep voice as he lists your revenges. And have you ever wonder why he let you get away with those? he thinks. If it were anyone else, he'd have killed them on the spot.
But it's you. So he lets it slide, every single damn time.
You remained silent. However, when you're about to look away again, he gently holds your chin, making you stare up at him.
"I'd rather hear you scold me than be silent like this, so talk to me. What's wrong, y/n?"
He used a voice that was so unfamiliar. It is soft, almost pleading, and Hanma is briefly amused that he spoke to you like that. He's never done this with anyone before, he realizes now, it's only with you.
And that's it. Your feelings crack through. Your knees nearly give out from the tenderness he showed you.
You like him. So so much.
And trying to distance yourself has been pointless, especially if he keeps finding his way back into your heart.
"There's n-nothing wrong, sir—"
"Shuji. Call me Shuji" he says, leaning closer.
You let out a gasp. "I can't"
Because you're just a secretary, and calling his name feels...forbidden.
That thought alone makes your chest aches, you can't help the tears that start to blur your eyes.
You look up at him, and Shuji, for all the sins he's committed, has never felt more like a sinner than when he sees those tears.
Has he caused them? Is he pressuring you?
"What's wrong, baby? Tell me"
"I- I don't like it when you're with other women" you whisper. And the tears finally fall.
You can't stop them, just like you couldn't stop that indirect confession. You don't dare to meet his gaze, too afraid that his expression would shatter you.
The brave, composed secretary is now crying, unaware that what she said is exactly what the crime lord has been waiting to hear.
"Look at me and say that again" Shuji says, a small smile tugging at his lips. With what little courage you have left, you meet his eyes.
And Shuji, one of the most dangerous men in Tokyo, looks at you with all the softness he can muster in his golden pretty eyes.
"I don't like it when you're with other women"
And then his lips collide with yours.
He touches your cheeks, wiping away your tears as he kisses you deeply.
Pulling away breathless, he chases after your lips again, and you smile through the kiss.
"I knew it. You like me too" he murmurs, equally breathless.
Instead of answering, he dives back in. This time, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer—closer until there's no space left between you.
Until there's no more boss and secretary distance between you.
You know there will be so much to unpack after this, and you're afraid it might not end the way you dream.
But that will be tomorrow's problem, because tonight, you are his equal.
