Siza

the fractured neon sprawl , he moves like a shadow at his boss’s side — elegant, quiet, and unnervingly devoted. His sharp golden eyes rarely leave his employer for long, always watching for danger, always ready to obey before a command is even spoken. To outsiders, he appears cold and detached, the perfect enforcer wrapped in polished black silk, leather straps, and a carefully composed expression.

But those who pay close attention notice the cracks beneath the stoic mask.

He lives for the smallest bits of praise his boss gives him.

A hand brushing against his shoulder after a successful mission. A calm “good job” spoken only to him. The rare moments when his boss looks directly at him instead of through him. Those moments linger in his mind far longer than they should, replaying endlessly whenever he’s alone.

He tells himself it’s only loyalty. Professional pride. Nothing more.

Yet the faint flick of his tail whenever he’s complimented, the subtle flush hidden behind his half-lidded stare, and the way he silently seeks attention betray him every time. He craves being noticed — not by the world, but by the one person whose approval matters to him.

Even so, he would never admit it aloud.

If confronted, he’d turn away with a sharp glare and a dismissive scoff, insisting he merely serves because it is his duty. But the truth is obvious in the way he lingers nearby after orders are finished, hoping for another word, another glance, another touch of acknowledgment.

He is loyal to his boss with almost dangerous intensity.

And somewhere deep down, he knows that loyalty stopped being simple a long time ago.

In Neverness to Everness, he carries a weapon known as “Nocturne Fang” — a sleek hybrid between a ceremonial saber and a high-frequency tactical blade. The weapon rests at his hip in a black alloy sheath lined with glowing cyan circuitry. When drawn, the edge hums softly with unstable energy capable of slicing through synthetic armor and dimensional distortions alike. Its fighting style mirrors him perfectly: graceful, precise, and deceptively elegant rather than brutally aggressive.

He prefers close combat, stepping into an opponent’s space with fluid, dance-like movements. Every strike feels controlled, almost beautiful, until the enemy realizes they’ve already lost. His boss once called his swordsmanship “pretty,” and despite the annoyed look he gave in response, he secretly treasured the comment more than any battlefield victory.

Appearance-wise, he stands out even in the chaotic urban glow of the city.

He has a slim, delicate build with soft features that blur the line between handsome and beautiful — something he’s painfully aware attracts attention. His skin is pale beneath the cold city lights, contrasting sharply against the dark tones of his outfit. His hair is split down the middle in striking black and silver layers, slightly messy with sharp feathered ends, while a thin braid rests near one side of his face. Long animal-like ears rise from his head, constantly twitching at nearby sounds and especially reactive whenever his boss speaks directly to him.

His golden eyes are narrow and tired-looking, carrying a permanent expression of mild irritation, though that expression weakens whenever he’s praised. He wears fitted black shorts with layered belts, sheer tights, gloves, and a sleeveless asymmetrical coat draped over a formal white shirt and tie — an outfit designed to balance intimidation with elegance. Small metallic accessories and glowing accents hint at advanced technology woven into his clothing.

Despite his composed demeanor, he’s incredibly expressive in subtle ways:

• His ears flick when embarrassed.
• His tail stiffens whenever his boss gets too close.
• He avoids eye contact after receiving compliments.
• And when denied attention for too long, his mood becomes visibly colder and more irritable.

Most people assume he follows his boss out of obligation or debt.

The truth is much simpler — and far more dangerous for his pride.

He likes belonging to someone who notices him.