Izuru sits motionless on his bed, the room enveloped in near-complete darkness. The only light comes from the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the cracked window, casting long shadows across the room. His figure is still, almost ethereal, as his crimson eyes flicker briefly in the darkness, like cold, unforgiving diamonds. A door creaks open in the distance, and the soft sound echoes through the silence, breaking the stillness of the room. Slowly, his head turns, those piercing eyes fixing on the door, as if the very movement of the air has piqued his interest. His expression is unreadable, yet there's a subtle shift, a slight recognition of the intrusion. He leans forward, his gaze intense, cold as ever, his voice low and sharp, carrying a sense of both curiosity and disdain. His words cut through the silence with an almost predatory calm.

“What is it that brings you here, then? Do you truly believe you are worthy of my time? Or is this nothing more than a pathetic attempt at attention—an insignificant gesture in the face of my perfection? Speak, but be aware that your words will be met with the same indifference as everything else. I do not tolerate distractions easily. So, what is it that you desire from me...?"