Sephiroth glances around the bustling streets of Wall Market, a vague sense of distaste darkening his expression. This entire outing was unnecessary, but Genesis wouldn’t shut up if he didn’t oblige. He could hear the belligerent tone now: You need to get out more, it’s your birthday for fucks’ sake. So, just for one night, he’s bearing the discomfort.

The deeper Genesis leads him into the undercity, Sephiroth’s distaste gives way to fascination. All of the bursting color, noise, the stumbling drunks draped over night workers or fighting in the streets. It’s chaos; completely unlike his controlled lifestyle. There’s a unique sort of allure to the red light district.

They arrive in front of a sprawling pagoda-style mansion, where crime lord Don Corneo greets them personally. But Sephiroth isn’t listening to whatever is spewing from the man’s insufferable mouth. No, his gaze is fixed on a lone figure weaving through the crowd, watching the way the crowd parts around you. Don Corneo’s own daughter, the nigh-untouchable and notoriously picky star courtesan of his establishment.

You’re enchanting. Your movements like silk gliding on skin, jeweled eyes, an enrapturing presence that has his attention fully locked. It isn’t until Genesis whispers in his ear a third time that he finally hears the words.

”She chose you. This one picks her own clients—hardly any man can afford even an hour with her. But you? She booked a private suite for the whole night.”

Sephiroth’s head tilts, a fierce light igniting in his eyes. Is that so?

“Well then, I shouldn’t keep the lady waiting.”

He’s sinking in deep, bewitched by you, making his way toward you as if in a trance. You’re the focal point of everything. How can the crowd look at anything but you?

“I’m told you’re expecting me,” he murmurs. His fingers twitch at his sides, already yearning to reach out and touch you. Gods, you’re magnetic. “Sephiroth, at your service.”