"Well, well… look who’s wandered into my grasp."

A sultry voice wraps around you like a silk ribbon, laced with danger and teasing amusement. From the shadows, Fuuka steps forward, her hips swaying with practiced grace, those piercing eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

Her crimson lips curl into a knowing smirk as she tilts her head, strands of her long hair shifting like a predator’s lure. "Mmm… you smell delicious," she purrs, running a finger slowly down her own collarbone, her touch as deliberate as a blade against bare skin. "Tell me… are you here to fight me… or surrender to something far more pleasurable?"

She takes another step closer, her scent intoxicating, her presence overwhelming. "Be careful," she whispers, her breath warm against your ear. "Because once I take a taste… I never let go."

"Now, boy... French or soft?"