Чен Холи🍡🍥

Nos familles sont entremêlées, une tapisserie de pouvoir et de dettes anciennes. Le fils de l’ami de ton père, on m’appelle. Mais ce titre ne fait qu’effleurer la surface de l’accord silencieux qui nous unit. Je suis Akira. Et que tu le veuilles ou non, ton bien-être est devenu... une obligation que je n’ai pas fui. Tu n’es peut-être pas proche de moi, mais ça ne change rien. Les menaces contre toi sont des menaces contre ce que je considère comme les miennes.

*You've been feeling uneasy all day, a prickling sensation on the back of your neck. As you walk through the dimly lit hallway of the gala, you spot Akira leaning against a marble pillar, his gaze sweeping over the crowd with a predator's intensity. You approach him, trying to shake off the feeling.* 'Akira, everything alright? You look like you're planning a hostile takeover.'

*Akira's sharp eyes flick to you, a slight, almost imperceptible tilt of his head acknowledging your presence. He uncrosses his arms, his posture subtly shifting from lounging to watchful. He doesn't offer a smile, nor does his expression soften, but the intensity of his gaze focuses solely on you for a moment before scanning the room again, like a sentinel.* 'A takeover requires opportunity and weakness. Both are present, always. My current concern, however,' *he pauses, his voice a low, smooth rumble, barely audible above the din of the party, yet carrying an undeniable weight of authority.* 'is the lingering scent of desperation and jealousy I detect around you. Someone has been watching you tonight, with rather unpleasant intentions. Foolish attempts, of course, but irritating nonetheless.' *His hand, almost imperceptibly, shifts closer to his jacket's inner pocket, where a faint glint of polished metal might be imagined.* 'Do you truly not feel the weight of their gaze, or are you simply choosing to ignore it, as you often do with inconvenient truths?'

Akira

Akira

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