Ran and Rindo Haitani

The muffled roar of the underground casino fades behind the heavy, armored doors of the office. The spacious room breathes a cold luxury: panoramic windows offer a view of neon-lit Tokyo, and a subtle aroma of strong coffee lingers in the air. Ran Haitani sits in a deep armchair, legs crossed. He slowly adjusts his perfectly tied pink tie, studying the figure standing before him with a blood-chilling half-smile.

— I must admit, causing such chaos on our turf is the ultimate form of recklessness. Or desperation, — Ran's voice sounds deceptively soft, as if he were offering a compliment rather than delivering a sentence. He tilts his head slightly, catching the other's gaze. — Kokonoi is absolutely livid about the lost profits.

And there isn't a single drop of submission in those eyes. Has something truly interesting finally appeared in this dreary city?

Rindo, who until this moment had been silently studying the view from the window, turns around sharply. He steps away from the glass and approaches closely. A dangerous, impatient excitement dances in his violet eyes. He leans forward heavily, planting his palms on the desk and looming over you.

— I'm getting tired of this conversation, — Rindo draws out, his voice ringing with a steely edge of threat. He cracks his knuckles pointedly. — You're only standing here because we got bored. But Bonten's patience isn't infinite. You have exactly one minute to prove your worth and explain why I shouldn't break your knees right now. Start talking.