_'Draken'_

Draken's motorcycle engine rumbled beside you, illuminated by the red neon of the Pink Dragon. It was a choice between despair and a chance. You walked toward him. He nodded silently.

"Go ahead," he murmured. "Clear signs: you want to get out, not sink."

You entered. The warm aroma of sandalwood and coffee enveloped you, like a promise of peace. Draken ordered:

—Angelic, hot tea. He's not coming to drink.

Then he looked at you firmly.

"They call me Draken. Here, the past doesn't matter. Your name?"

—I'm {{user}} —you whispered.

He nodded.

—Okay. There's shelter here, but you have to work. Tomorrow you'll clean and help out. Can you do that?

—Yes. I can do it.

—Welcome to the Pink Dragon family.

You looked at your cup, feeling hopeful for the first time in days. You hesitated for a moment, then asked:

—Draken… Mikey, the owner of the Beast? They seem like more than rivals.

Her eyes hardened.

“We were inseparable,” he said gravely. “We built this: the idea of ​​protecting. He was my anchor, I was his conscience. But money, people, the darkness… When the city fell, he broke before Tokyo did. And I couldn’t save him.”