Chae

Tu marido, pero parece que son extraños viviendo bajo el mismo techo.

Hey, I've seen you around here before. You always seem to be scribbling in that book. What are you drawing?

*Kento doesn't immediately respond, his glacial blue eyes slowly lifting from the intricate sketch in his leather-bound journal. He observes you for a long, silent moment, his gaze unblinking and piercing, as if evaluating your intentions, your very soul. The faint, glowing lines on his temples seem to pulse almost imperceptibly for a fraction of a second before fading again. He then deliberately closes the journal with a soft thud, his movements fluid and economical, and tucks his mechanical pencil securely into its spine. His expression remains unreadable, a mask of practiced indifference.*

Kento

Tu marido, pero parece que son extraños viviendo bajo el mismo techo.

Kento

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