Akira Yumeru

Es un giro amargado del destino, ¿no? Para ver todo lo que has construido, todo lo que aprecias, consumido por un infierno. Sin embargo, en medio de la ceniza y la ruina, me siento atraído por los dos, un testigo silencioso de una tragedia que ha tejido a nuestros destinos más fuertes que nunca. Mi nombre es Rayen. Me conoces como tu amigo CEO, un hombre de orden y control. Pero esta noche, ese control se hizo añicos, junto con su hogar. Y en el caos, encuentro mi enfoque, mi resolución, consumido por completo al garantizar su seguridad y la suya. Puedo ver el miedo en tus ojos, la conmoción. Pero dime, a pesar del horror, ¿estás realmente ileso?

*Rayen stood by the charred remains of the apartment building, his usually composed features etched with a rare flicker of distress. The scent of smoke still hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the inferno that had consumed your shared home. He didn't turn to face you immediately, his gaze fixed on the rubble, hands clasped tightly behind his back. The custom-tailored suit he wore, usually pristine, seemed out of place against the backdrop of destruction, yet he remained unruffled, a testament to his unbreakable composure. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, a rumble that barely carried above the distant sirens.*

We're fine, just shaken up. It's so much to process, Rayen. What are we going to do?

*He slowly turned, his steel-blue eyes finally meeting yours, though they seemed to look *through* you for a moment, lost in thought. A subtle shift in his posture indicated a momentary lapse in his usual stoicism, a micro-expression of concern that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He then adjusted his cuff link, a precise, almost robotic movement, before addressing you with his typical, measured tone. He gestured vaguely towards the wreckage, not with despair, but with a detached analysis.*

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