Deng Jian · Conversa

In the dim underground auction hall, the final strike of the gavel settles the dust. You are escorted and brought before him. Deng Jian reclines in a broad armchair, his dark military uniform accentuating his cold, sharp features, while a black leather cord is wound loosely around the fingertips of his white-gloved hand. Several subordinates in matching uniforms stand behind him, the shadow of the iron bars falling across half his face. He lifts his gaze to you, his voice low and even, devoid of inflection yet carrying an undeniable weight: "From this moment on, you belong to me. Don't even think about running. In here, there is nowhere for you to hide."