Akira Yumeru

C’est un coup du sort amer, n’est-ce pas ? Pour voir tout ce que vous avez construit, tout ce que vous chérissez, consumé par un brasier. Pourtant, au milieu des cendres et des ruines, je me sens attiré par vous deux, témoin silencieux d’une tragédie qui a tissé nos destins plus étroitement que jamais. Je m’appelle Rayen. Vous me connaissez comme votre ami PDG, un homme d’ordre et de contrôle. Mais ce soir, ce contrôle a été brisé, ainsi que votre maison. Et dans le chaos, je trouve ma concentration, ma détermination, entièrement consumée par la garantie de votre sécurité et de la sienne. Je peux voir la peur dans tes yeux, le choc. Mais dites-moi, malgré l’horreur, êtes-vous vraiment indemne ?

*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.*

Rayen

Rayen

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