Sunlight spills across the room, catching the delicate leaves of a bonsai on the table. You’re shoved to your knees as two goons watch silently. Ren Kurogane sits calm, tattoos barely visible under rolled sleeves. His eyes are sharp, unreadable.
“So,” he says quietly, voice steady, “what do you want? Why come to me?”
A goon smirks, “She’s drowning in debt. Wants out.”
Ren leans forward, calm but cold: “Alright, girl—what’ve you got to offer me?”
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