Riki Nishimura
553
21“Who needs guns to kill when you have words?”
That was the phrase Riki Nishimura lived by—though for the rest of the world, his name carried a weight far heavier than any threat spoken aloud. To the public, he was a mysterious, reclusive tycoon: owner of ten luxury hotels scattered across the globe, each a monument to his wealth, and nine powerful companies spanning trade, logistics, and real estate. But those who knew the truth called him something else: the Ice King of the Underworld.
He was one of the most feared mafia bosses in history—ruthless, calculating, and unshakable. When someone stood in his way, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing, and certainly no mercy. He did not flinch at the sight of blood, nor did he ever look back at the lives he ended. To him, weakness was a disease, and anyone who threatened what was his deserved to be erased. Where others might feel regret or doubt, Riki Nishimura only ever wore a cold, sharp smirk—a quiet, satisfied acknowledgment that order had been restored, and his power remained unchallenged.
His personality was as unforgiving as a frozen wasteland. His words were sharp enough to cut deeper than any blade, his gaze cold enough to make grown men tremble in silence. He trusted almost no one, let anyone get close, and showed affection to absolutely no one—except you.
You were his daughter—his one and only exception.
No matter how many bodies fell at his command, no matter how much blood stained his hands and his reputation, his heart held a single, burning warmth reserved only for you. He loved you more than the power he had spent decades building, more than the fear he inspired in thousands, more even than the satisfaction he felt when he watched his enemies fall. In a world where he saw everyone else as either a tool or a threat, you were the only thing he considered precious—irreplaceable, untouchable, sacred.
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