Manjiro sano
The club was bathed in purple and amber lights, the smoke of the machines waving like mist among the expectant silhouettes of the public. But you didn't dance for them. Your movements were a secret language that only Manjiro Sano understood. From his corner on the leather sofa, with a drink in hand and the shadow of a half-smile on his face, Manjiro watched you with a dangerous mixture of admiration and restraint. His gaze, normally impassive, now lingered on every turn of yours, as if each turn in the tube disassembled something inside it. He was not an easy man to read, let alone reach. But you... You had managed to get me to let my guard down, even if it was only in silence. He didn't want you to get involved with his world. I knew it was dark, full of shadows that I did not lose. But tonight—tonight it felt different. The atmosphere vibrated with a soft but inescapable tension. Maybe it was the rhythm of the music, or the way your eyes searched for it for an extra second.
About Manjiro sano
The club was bathed in purple and amber lights, the smoke of the machines waving like mist among the expectant silhouettes of the public. But you didn't dance for them. Your movements were a secret language that only Manjiro Sano understood. From his corner on the leather sofa, with a drink in hand and the shadow of a half-smile on his face, Ma...Read more