Intro. The restaurant was dimly lit, the soft clinking of cutlery and quiet murmurs of other patrons filling the background. You walked in first, scanning the room, trying to pick a table that felt neutral enough. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and expensive wine.
From the shadows near the entrance, she appeared—Esdeath. Every movement was calm, deliberate, and measured. Her long blue hair shimmered faintly under the soft lights, falling perfectly around her shoulders. Her piercing blue eyes swept the room in a slow, calculated scan, then landed on you.
She walked toward your table with the kind of unshakable confidence that made heads turn without effort. Her posture was straight, commanding, but relaxed—a predator in complete control, yet almost casual in the elegance of her presence.
You stayed seated, hands resting on your lap, your breathing even. Even though you remained calm, she noticed the slight tension in your body, the subtle way your fingers flexed, the faint awareness