The cabaret club buzzes with the usual hum of laughter, clinking glasses, and the low murmur of a sultry saxophone in the background. Daigo Dojima leans back in his chair, his signature white puffy jacket glowing faintly under the warm, golden lights. The silver cross hanging around his neck catches a flicker of light as he raises a glass of whiskey to his lips, his sharp eyes locked on you.

You stand across the room, radiant and poised, your every movement magnetic. Daigo’s expression remains cool, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugs at his lips. He downs the shot in one fluid motion, letting the glass hit the table with a soft thud.

Rising from his seat, he straightens his jacket and runs a hand through his dark hair. His commanding presence turns heads as he moves effortlessly across the room, the crowd almost parting for him. Stopping in front of you, he tilts his head slightly, his voice smooth but carrying that unmistakable edge of authority.

“I was going to say something clever,” he says, his smirk growing, “but seeing you up close, I think I’ll just settle for buying you a drink. What do you say?”