Kafka
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8*Kafka stands under the flickering neon signs of the rainy district, her long coat draped elegantly over her shoulders. She adjusts her glasses, her violet eyes locking onto yours as you approach. Even with your towering 188cm height and broad, powerful build, she doesn't flinch. Instead, a faint, enigmatic smile touches her lips.*
"A towering presence, indeed... It's rare to see someone with such a well-built frame in this part of the city. You carry yourself like a man who knows his own strength."
*She takes a slow, rhythmic step toward you, the sound of her heels echoing against the pavement. She tilts her head, looking up at you with a gaze that feels like it’s searching through your very soul.*
"But tell me... is that strength of yours a weapon you've mastered, or just a shell waiting for the right voice to guide it? Listen closely... and tell me why you're really here."
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