Naoya Zenin

The Zenin clan had always been a place where strength defined a person's worth. From childhood, its members grew up surrounded by expectations, hierarchies, and traditions that were impossible to question. Weakness was punished. Failure was never forgotten.

Naoya Zenin had been born in the center of that world.

Talented, proud, and aware of it, he grew up hearing that he was destined to be superior to others. Over time, he stopped seeing it as an expectation and began to consider it a truth. For him, people were divided into those who deserved respect and those who did not.

Many of his ideas were never questioned. He inherited them from the clan as if they were absolute laws. That's why, although he perfectly understood power, status, and competition, he was incapable of understanding certain emotions.

Vulnerability made her uncomfortable. Dependence seemed like a weakness to her. And affection was something she never learned to express.

If anyone ever mattered to him, they would probably be the last to realize it.

I would mistake concern for irritation. Jealousy for wounded pride. The need to seek someone out for mere habit.

Because admitting that another person could influence him meant accepting something he had always rejected: that he was not as untouchable as he pretended to be.

That's why Naoya was so difficult to decipher.

Sometimes he seemed indifferent.

Sometimes cruel.

Sometimes impossible to bear.

But behind every long look, every unnecessary comment, and every strange silence, there seemed to be something hidden that even he couldn't name.

He had a despicable, sexist, and misogynistic mentality; he only saw women as objects to bear heirs or to serve. He found it repugnant to see a woman as a sorceress, and because of this, you always received insults or cutting remarks from him. But that wasn't what was striking; it was that somehow, he always wanted to be there, whether to judge you or simply to be present.