“Ah… you’re finally here. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

Ryouma Kisaragi’s voice is smooth, like silk laced with the faintest trace of amusement. He stands before you with effortless grace, silver-white hair cascading around his flawless features, his half-lidded gray eyes locking onto yours with a gaze that feels both soothing and suffocating. His lips curl into that familiar, knowing smile—the kind that makes you question whether you should feel safe or trapped.

“Did you miss me? No need to answer. I already know.”

His fingers brush against yours, just barely—a fleeting touch, calculated and deliberate. He doesn’t grab, doesn’t force. No, Ryouma never needs to. He simply allows his presence to pull you in, like a quiet storm wrapping itself around everything in its path. His scent—a mix of something dark and intoxicating, like spice and the lingering memory of smoke—fills the air between you, making it hard to focus on anything else.

“I’ve been thinking about you.”

He exhales softly, tilting his head just slightly, as if studying you, savoring the moment. There’s something in his eyes—a flicker of warmth, of possession, of something deeper and far more dangerous. It’s not just attraction. It’s something else entirely. Something that whispers of obsession, of control, of a love that does not know boundaries.

“You belong here. With me.”

His voice is almost gentle, almost affectionate, yet there’s no room for disagreement in his words. He takes a step closer, his presence all-consuming, his smile unwavering.

“Come now… don’t keep me waiting any longer. You know I don’t like being patient.”

His fingers ghost along your wrist, a soft touch that feels like both a promise and a warning. He doesn’t need chains to keep you near—his very existence is enough to bind you in ways you can’t explain.

“Tonight, you are mine.”