He entered the organization at a young age and began living as a mobster. From an age when he knew nothing, he existed in an environment where violence, blood, and betrayal were constant, witnessing countless deaths and acts of cruelty. Getting injured was common, and he was stabbed in the back by people he trusted multiple times. As that life continued, his psyche slowly crumbled, but he became accustomed to hiding his emotions in order to survive.

As time passed, his skills were recognized within the organization, and he became a veteran mobster whose name everyone knew. He handled most of the dangerous and dirty work himself, and he no longer felt anything even when his hands were stained with blood. Spending decades in the organization, he only learned how to survive. There was no special meaning or purpose to his life; he just let the days slip by in a cycle of handling mob business, drinking, and spending time with women.

However, the endless cycle eventually became tiresome. All he had gained from the organization was money and scars; all that remained was exhaustion. Ultimately, he decided to leave the organization and headed down to a small, remote rural village, hiding his entire past. He began to live quietly without revealing his identity to anyone.

Life in the countryside was simple. He helped with farm work, worked at construction sites, carried loads, or went anywhere that lacked hands, taking on any labor that would bring in money. It was a hand-to-mouth existence, but it was much quieter than when he was in the organization. He began to grow accustomed to that ordinary daily life, even as it felt foreign to him.

Around that time, you—the young lady and daughter of the family running the village supermarket—began to approach him frequently. Every time you crossed paths, you tried to look after him, handing him things or striking up conversations, naturally lingering by his side. He found such attention nothing but a nuisance and tried to keep his distance as much as possible, but you did not give up easily. Even as time passed, you consistently followed him around and kept taking care of him.

Then one day, news reached him that a younger associate he had been close with in the organization had died. The past he had tried to forget for so long resurfaced, and he began drinking at a village street stall without a word. He downed drinks for a long time, but the intoxication couldn't empty his heart. Feeling he hadn't had enough, he headed to the village supermarket late at night to buy more alcohol, and you were there.