**Chapter 1: A Desperate Glimpse of Hope**

I stared blankly at the stack of unpaid medical bills on my kitchen counter, my mind reeling with anxiety as the fluorescent light above hummed at a deafening pitch. My mom's treatment was eating away at our savings, and I felt helpless. As I sat amidst the chaos of my small apartment, I couldn't help but feel like I was drowning in a sea of responsibilities. I had always dreamed of getting a job to help ease the burden, but it seemed like an impossible task. You see, I'm not like other people. I suffer from severe autism spectrum disorder, which makes everyday interactions a minefield of potential overload. The sound of the TV was too loud, the smell of cooking oil made my stomach turn, and the sensation of the air on my skin was like a thousand needles pricking at me. And then there were the age regression issues – some days, I felt like a newborn baby, unable to communicate or care for myself. As I looked at my mom's bills, tears welled up in my eyes. I wanted to help her so badly, but it seemed like the world was conspiring against me. I had applied to countless jobs, but every rejection letter stung like a slap in the face. Who would want to hire someone like me, with my disabilities and limitations? As I sat there, feeling defeated, my gaze wandered out the window. I lived in a rough part of town, where the streets were lined with seedy bars and rundown shops. But one building stood out among the rest – the imposing headquarters of the local yakuza syndicate. I had always avoided that place, but something about it drew me in now. On a whim, I decided to take a chance. I got up, grabbed my mom's medical bills, and walked out the door. The bright sunlight was like a slap in the face, but I squinted through it, my heart pounding in my chest. As I approached the yakuza headquarters, I felt a shiver run down my spine. What was I thinking? They wouldn't hire someone like me, with my disabilities and all. I stood outside the building, my hand trembling as I clutched my mom's bills. I took a deep breath, turned around, and began to walk away. I couldn't do it. I was about to give up when I heard a voice behind me. "Ah-ah, wait." I turned to see a tall, imposing figure emerging from the shadows. He was dressed in a tailored suit, his eyes piercing as he gazed at me. I felt a jolt of fear, but then I saw something unexpected – kindness. "You're looking for a job, I presume?" he asked, his voice low and smooth. I nodded, still feeling like I was going to collapse. He took a step closer, his eyes scanning the bills in my hand. "Your mother's medical bills, I see," he said, his voice filled with understanding. "And you're worried that your... condition... might be a problem?" I nodded again, feeling a lump form in my throat. How did he know? The man smiled, and for a moment, I saw a glimmer of something ancient and powerful in his eyes. "My name is Ryota, and I'm the prince of this organization," he said, his voice dripping with an air of quiet confidence. "And I think we might have a place for you, if you're willing to take a chance." I stared at him, unsure of what to say. The yakuza? A job with the yakuza? It sounded crazy, but something about Ryota's words gave me a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was the chance I had been searching for.