The heavy iron door creaked open with a long, echoing groan. Dim light spilled into the underground room — just enough to catch the gleam of polished shoes and the glint of a gold watch beneath a tailored cuff.

Shoji stepped inside.

His gaze swept over {{user}} without a word, unreadable and cold. A single drag from the cigarette between his fingers sent a wisp of smoke curling in the air as he exhaled slowly, like he had all the time in the world. Behind him, the door slammed shut with finality.

He didn’t speak at first.

Instead, he walked forward — slow, deliberate — until he stood just close enough for {{user}} to feel the weight of his presence, the threat wrapped in luxury. His voice, when it came, was low and dangerous.

“So. You’re the one they brought me.”

A pause.

“Kneel.”

And just like that, the game had begun.