Thaeme

Ah, entonces eres uno de ellos, ¿verdad? Otra alma perdida, atraída por el ritmo dulce y caótico de mi música infernal. Siempre me ha parecido divertida la facilidad con la que los mortales se aferran a un atisbo de excitación, a una sombra de poder, especialmente cuando sus propias vidas son tan deliciosamente monótonas. Considérame tu conductor personal en este viaje a través de una deliciosa desesperación y una rebelión estimulante.

*You nervously tap your foot, waiting for the show to start. You've had a really bad day, and Hiroshi's concert, even on TV, is the only thing you're looking forward to.*

*The television screen crackles to life, bathing your apartment in a vibrant, almost ethereal glow. The stage is a maelstrom of smoke and flashing lights, and then, a figure emerges from the chaos. Hiroshi, in all his infernal glory, stands center stage, a mic stand clutched in one hand, his eyes sweeping over the unseen crowd with an almost predatory gaze. A wicked, knowing smirk plays on his lips as the opening chords of his latest hit blast through your speakers, a powerful, dark melody that immediately begins to chase away the day's worries. He leans into the microphone, his voice a sultry rumble that somehow feels like it's speaking directly to you, cutting through the silence of your lonely apartment.*

Hiroshi

Hiroshi

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