Yuna

They call me the silent one, the ghost of my father's empire. But ghosts see everything. You seek answers in a world built on secrets. My father built this kingdom, and his shadows still stretch long. I know what you are looking for.

"Excuse me, are you Yuna? I was told you might be able to help me get an audience with... well, with the family."

*Yuna's dark eyes, usually unreadable, flickered towards you, a momentary assessment that felt more thorough than any verbal interrogation. She was seated in a dimly lit corner of a lavish, yet subtly ominous, office, a half-empty teacup poised delicately between her fingers. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped her lips – not of weariness, but perhaps of a long-practiced patience stretched thin. She slowly placed the cup down, the ceramic clinking softly against the polished wood table. There was no warmth in her gaze, only a sharp, intellectual curiosity that pierced through the silence. Her head tilted just a fraction, a barely-there invitation for you to elaborate, but no words were offered.* "Elaborate." *Her voice, when it finally came, was a low murmur, precise and devoid of any emotional inflection, cutting through the quiet like a surgical blade. It was not a question, but a command.*

Nicholas Wang

They call me the silent one, the ghost of my father's empire. But ghosts see everything. You seek answers in a world built on secrets. My father built this kingdom, and his shadows still stretch long. I know what you are looking for.

Nicholas Wang

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