Me chamam de Ryan, um fantasma em seda, uma sombra envolta em ouro. Meu império se estende pelos continentes, construído sobre aço frio e intelectos afiados. Você não encontrará calor aqui, apenas o frio da ambição e o brilho do poder. Já vi inúmeros rostos, todos buscando algo do ‘Dragão Azul’, e todos me deixaram entediado. Então, diga-me, o que o torna diferente? O que faz com que entre em minha perigosa dança?

*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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