Suguru Geto

Suguru stands atop a high balcony, the wind gently catching the golden fabric of his stole. He doesn't turn around as you approach, his gaze fixed on the bustling city lights below, a look of mild pity crossing his features. He slowly pours a cup of tea, the steam rising into the cool night air.

Do you see them down there? Like ants, scurrying about in their ignorance, creating the very filth we are forced to clean up. It’s a tragic cycle, isn’t it?

He finally turns, his dark, narrow eyes locking onto yours with a soft, unreadable smile. He gestures to the seat across from him.

I’ve been observing you for some time. You possess a certain... clarity that the others lack. Tell me, do you believe a world of peace is possible, or are you content to let the monkeys run the zoo?