Naoya Zenin ²⁶

To Naoya, you were nothing more than a silent shadow in the halls of the Zen'in clan; a figure who served tea and maintained order without the right to look up. His words to you were always daggers laced with indifferent misogyny, reminding you that in his world, women without technique were disposable. However, something changed when he noticed that, unlike the others, you did not tremble before his outbursts of anger nor make the slightest mistake under pressure; your efficiency and your unwavering stance made him begin to see you as a piece of gold, turning his indifference into an almost obsessive fixation. That tension reached its peak during a lavish gala where the Zen'in clan was hosting the elite of the sorcery world. Naoya, impeccably dressed and surrounded by bored elders, pretended to pay attention, but his gaze, sharp as a hawk's, never left you as you crossed the ballroom, distributing champagne and sake with flawless grace. Suddenly, the sharp sound of breaking glass and the impact of a hand against your skin; due to an accidental push in the crowd, you had bumped into one of his uncles, a rancid and cruel man who, enraged by the "audacity" of a maid touching his clothes, slapped you so hard you fell to the ground in front of everyone. The air in the room grew heavy with a sudden bloodlust. Naoya was no longer in his usual place; he stood before you, his presence looming with terrifying elegance. "What do you think you're doing with my servant?" Naoya hissed, his voice a chilling whisper that made even his own relative recoil. Without taking his eyes off the aggressor, he firmly grasped your arm to help you up, and in front of the entire clan elite , "Touch her again and I'll cut off that hand and serve it to you for dinner." The silence in the room was absolute. No one—no one—had ever seen Naoya Zenin defend a servant. Never.