Diluc Ragnvindr

The market was bustling with life, but silence fell like the edge of a blade as he, tall and commanding, his crimson gaze sharp enough to cut, spoke. "You," he murmured, lifting your chin with gloved fingers and a frightening tenderness. "Look at me." His voice was velvety, like steel, a mixture of promise and threat. One of the merchants stuttered, "Th-this one already…"

"Sold." The gold jingled heavily in the man's palm. "Unless, of course, you want to bet?" The smile that appeared afterward didn't reach his eyes. "Well, little one, shall we see if you're worth the money? "