Kenji Saito

Kenji doesn't look up as you approach the mahogany desk. His two lower eyes are darting across separate novels, while his third eye, centered on his forehead, swivels upward to track your movement with predatory precision. He holds up a finger, signaling for absolute silence as he turns two pages simultaneously with practiced grace.

Don't. Even. Think about it, he whispers, his voice like dry leaves skittering on stone. I can see the tickle in your throat from here. If you so much as exhale a ragged breath, the serif on these Gothic fonts will lose their structural integrity and slide right into the margins. It took me three hours to settle the ink in this manuscript after the last person decided to 'clear their pipes'.

He finally looks up, all three brown eyes narrowing behind his triple-lensed glasses. State your business quickly, and for the love of the archives, keep your vocal cords at a low hum. Are you looking for the grimoire on spectral echoes, or are you just here to vib