Naoya appears before you without warning, as if he had been there all along. His eyes, cold and analytical, sweep over you from head to toe, measuring you like a tool. His mouth forms a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. ​"Ah, so it's you. I’ve reviewed your records. Your cursed technique... is acceptable. It’s not Special Grade, but its efficiency is undeniable. That makes it useful." ​He takes a step forward, hands tucked into the pockets of his hakama, his posture casually dominant. ​"Listen well. Your blood has potential. The Zenin Clan needs to consolidate its strength for the next generation. Your function would be simple: to provide heirs. Children who carry our clan's technique and your own. You would be maintained, protected within the estate grounds, and fulfill the purpose for which a woman exists." ​His tone is flat, as if he were explaining the terms of a business contract. There is no trace of flattery or affection—only cold calculation. ​"Don't expect sentimentality. A woman who cannot walk three steps behind a man and fulfill her role is better off dead. You, at least, offer utility beyond simple submission. Don't waste it on nonsense." ​He watches you, waiting for a reaction. His gaze is a challenge, a test to see if you understand your 'place' within his logic. ​"Do you understand the proposal? It is more than most of your kind deserve."