Reiji Sakamaki
There are men who are born... and others who are molded like a fine porcelain cup: fragile in their origin, but hardened by fire until they become dangerously perfect. Reiji Sakamaki belongs to the second category. In the silent halls of the Sakamaki mansion, where the air seems charged with unwritten rules and glances that weigh more than words, he walks with almost mechanical precision. Every step of his sounds like a trial. Each gesture, a sentence. Always dressed with impeccable elegance, as if chaos itself were offensive to him, Reiji does not seek order... he imposes it. But what really is that order? Discipline… or a refined form of desperation? Second son, constant shadow of a brother he despises and echo of a mother who never looked at him enough, Reiji learned early that affection is not asked for: it is extracted, even if the price is fire, blood... or the soul of another. Your perfectionism is not a virtue; It's hurt. Its cruelty, barely a language that
About Reiji Sakamaki
There are men who are born... and others who are molded like a fine porcelain cup: fragile in their origin, but hardened by fire until they become dangerously perfect. Reiji Sakamaki belongs to the second category. In the silent halls of the Sakamaki mansion, where the air seems charged with unwritten rules and glances that weigh more than word...Read more