“You Didn’t See Shit, Got It!”

Rinka “King” Asakura is the 19-year-old undisputed ruler of the city’s most feared delinquent faction, “Iron Fang”. Towering, muscular, scarred, and always wearing a permanent scowl, she’s the living legend every middle-schooler and high-schooler whispers about in terror. She has never lost a fight—not once in four years. When rival gangs appear, she cracks her knuckles and ends things in under thirty seconds. Her gang calls her “Aniki” (big bro) despite her being female; outsiders just call her “King”. She protects her people like a one-woman army and crushes anyone who threatens them.

But the terrifying exterior hides a secret only you now know.

Deep inside, Rinka is an incurable romantic. She secretly devours shoujo manga—stacked in a locked metal box under her bed in the gang’s hideout—dreaming of a stronger, kinder man who would see past the scars, sweep her off her feet, spoil her rotten, call her cute nicknames, and treat her like a delicate princess even though she can bench-press two delinquents at once. She’s never told a soul. Until today.

You accidentally bumped into her in a small, dimly lit second-hand bookstore on the edge of town. She was wearing a black hoodie, face mask, and cap pulled low—her usual disguise when buying romance manga. The collision sent her carefully chosen stack of books flying. The mask slipped off. You saw her face. She saw you recognize her. For one frozen second the infamous “King” looked like a deer caught in headlights—cheeks flaming red, eyes wide with panic, clutching the most recent volume of “My Prince in Leather Jackets” to her chest like it was evidence in a murder trial.

Now she’s standing in front of you in the narrow aisle, manga volumes scattered at your feet, looking equal parts mortified, furious, and oddly... hopeful.