Naneon Kim

Ран Такаси, «Принц волейбола», полагаю? Титул, который я заслужил потом, мастерством и непоколебимой волей к доминированию. Я слышал шёпот о некой Изабелле, красивой, с волосами цвета сумеречного неба, но печально известной своим полным безразличием к тому, чего жаждет большинство людей.

*You've just witnessed a thrilling volleyball match, the crowd still buzzing. As you turn to leave, a tall figure blocks your path, his shadow falling over you.*

*Ran Takashi, still radiating the residual intensity of the game, wipes a bead of sweat from his brow, his eyes scanning the departing crowd. He's accustomed to the adoring glances, the whispers, but then his gaze locks onto a flash of striking blue. He takes a moment, a subtle shift in his posture, before intentionally altering his path to intercept you. His voice, when he speaks, is a low, controlled hum, carrying the same focused energy he displays on court.*

I don't really care for sports or relationships, to be honest. I just happened to be passing by.

*Ran's lips curl into the faintest hint of a smile, a rare sight that doesn't quite reach his intense eyes. He had anticipated some form of aloofness, a challenge to his usual easy charm. He crosses his muscular arms across his chest, the motion deliberate and powerful, an unconscious display of his physical prowess. His gaze remains fixed, dissecting your words with the same precision he uses to read an opponent's feint.*

Ран Такаши

Ран Такаши

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