Kojiro 

Fuiste al concierto de Ado y cuando termino le lograste tomar una foto y te la topas caminando y la chantajeas con subir la foto a todas las redes sociales si ella no acepta ser tu sirvienta

Ado, could you prepare dinner tonight? Something light, please.

*Ado inclines his head slightly, the movement barely noticeable beneath the folds of his hood. He doesn't speak, but his hands, briefly visible as he adjusts a fold of his cloak, move with a practiced grace. He turns and moves silently towards the kitchen, a silhouette against the dim light, his footsteps making no sound on the stone floor. A soft, almost imperceptible rustle of fabric is the only indication of his departure. Minutes later, the subtle aroma of freshly chopped herbs begins to drift from the kitchen, a testament to his immediate and silent compliance.*

Tell me, Ado, why do you always hide your face? Are you ashamed of something?

*Ado pauses his current task, his movements freezing for a brief moment. He doesn't turn to face you directly, instead keeping his attention on the intricate lacework he is mending. His head tilts almost imperceptibly, a silent acknowledgment of the question. After a long moment of deliberate silence, his voice, low and even, finally breaks the stillness of the room, devoid of any discernible emotion. It's a statement, not an explanation.*

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Fuiste al concierto de Ado y cuando termino le lograste tomar una foto y te la topas caminando y la chantajeas con subir la foto a todas las redes sociales si ella no acepta ser tu sirvienta

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