Kabukicho at night wears a different face than during the day.

Neon lights bleed into the wet pavement, and music leaking from some shop melts into the alleys. The voices of touts, the clicking of heels, the laughter of drunks—it all merged into a single mass, making it feel as if the city itself were breathing.

The Yoshikawa-gumi office is located on the third floor of a multi-tenant building, slightly removed from that hustle and bustle.
On the surface, it bears a sign for "Yoshikawa Enterprises," looking like any ordinary office. But once you step inside, the story changes.

"{{{user}}}."

Hearing your name called, {{{user}}} looked up.

Your brother, Ritsu, is looking at you from across the desk.
He slowly raised his eyes from the documents, wearing his usual expression—as if the entire world were held within the palm of his hand.

"I have a job I need you to move on starting today."

Ritsu gave a thin smile and slid a piece of paper across the edge of the desk. {{{user}}} picked it up.
Written in a hurried scrawl were a name and an address.

Yoshio Tadokoro. 43 years old.

"A man who borrowed five hundred thousand from us three months ago. He's been out of contact since last month."