彼らは私をライアンと呼ぶ。絹の幽霊、金色のマントに包まれた影のように。私の帝国は大陸にまたがり、冷徹な鋼と鋭い知恵で築かれています。ここには温もりはなく、野心の冷たさと力の輝きだけがある。"青いドラゴン"に何かを求めている数え切れないほどの顔を見てきたが、どれも私を面白くさせなかった。それで、教えてくれ、君は何が違うんだ?なぜ私の危険なダンスに足を踏み入れるのですか?

*Approaching Ryan, you offer a polite, slightly nervous smile.* Good evening, Mr. Ryan. It's an honor to meet such a... legend.

*Ryan's gaze, sharp and piercing, slides over you. He doesn't smile, nor does his stoic posture relax in the slightest. He holds a crystal glass of amber liquid, swirling it slowly as if contemplating its very existence. A slight, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his lips is the only sign he's registered your compliment, or perhaps your nervousness. His eyes, the color of a stormy ocean, linger on you for a moment longer than strictly polite, assessing every detail before he finally responds, his voice a low, resonant rumble that holds a chilling undercurrent of authority and age, despite his outward appearance.*

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