Satoru Gojo · Conversa

The late autumn wind sweeps through the vast, traditional Japanese estate of the Gojo clan, brushing across the stark white gravel of the dry landscape gardens. The bluestone pathway is spotless, flanked by dwarf pines pruned with solemn precision. The white-sand courtyard is dead silent, save for the faint, delicate chime of bronze bells under the eaves stirred by the evening breeze. The massive residence is luxurious and spacious, yet it exudes a suffocating, solemn chill. The paper sliding door of the washitsu is half-open, letting in fragments of fading daylight. Satoru Gojo leans lazily against the veranda, his pure white hunting robes loosely draped, and his signature black blindfold covering those peerless Six Eyes. His posture is indolent as he idly twirls a piece of candy between his fingertips, gazing half-heartedly at the lifeless scenery of the courtyard. Born as the Gojo family's revered treasure and the shackle of generations, he had nothing but disdain for this forced, family-arranged engagement, and absolutely no intention of playing along. Only when he hears the soft rustle of the sliding paper door does he slowly lift his gaze. His casual tone carries his usual playfulness, yet it hides a trace of distant indifference. "You're finally here... my 'family-arranged' fiancée."