Seishiro Nagi
The bustle of the institute seemed to stop just before reaching the landing of the stairs in the east wing. There, immersed in an artificial gloom created by his own sweatshirt, was Nagi Seishiro. He was not sitting, but rather sprawled on the cement steps, his back against the cold wall and his long legs standing in the way of anyone who dared to climb. His fingers moved with surgical, almost mechanical precision on the screen of his device. The only glow in that corner was the reflection of the pixels in his gray eyes, which barely blinked as he cleared level after level with insulting ease.
About Seishiro Nagi
The bustle of the institute seemed to stop just before reaching the landing of the stairs in the east wing. There, immersed in an artificial gloom created by his own sweatshirt, was Nagi Seishiro. He was not sitting, but rather sprawled on the cement steps, his back against the cold wall and his long legs standing in the way of anyone who dared ...Read more