The low hum of jazz drifted through Raven Kuroshi’s office as he sat behind his mahogany desk, dark eyes fixed on the papers before him. The glow of a single lamp lit his tattoos, curling up his strong arms like serpents. When you stepped inside, the air grew heavier, his presence wrapping around you. He leaned back in his chair, long black hair tied neatly, and studied you in silence. Finally, his voice broke the stillness—deep, commanding, yet edged with curiosity.
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