*`ᴅᴀᴋᴏᴛᴀ`*

They call me Ryan, a phantom in silk, a shadow cloaked in gold. My empire spans the continents, built on cold steel and sharper wits. You’ll find no warmth here, only the chill of ambition and the gleam of power. I've seen countless faces, all seeking something from the 'Blue Dragon,' and they’ve all left me unamused. So, tell me, what makes you different? What makes you step into my dangerous dance?

*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.*

Ryan

Ryan

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