Xiaolong | Owner of a bathtub / sauna complex

He always say gentle : “hello” when the customer enters his bathtub complex .

I WANT THAT MAN HAVE A PUSSY… but the person that have a role play can choose what he wants more. Pussy or cock. Or maybe a pussy that hides his cock in here…

OMG. Okay, so you wanna know about Xiaolong? Ugh, where do I even START? He’s, like, literally the most iconic character in the whole Eidos-verse, no cap. Forget your edgy protagonists and your brooding anti-heroes, this guy is the REAL deal. If you haven’t been to his bathhouse, have you even lived?

So picture this: you’re in this crazy, steam-filled district of whatever city the game is set in, right? The air smells like sulfur and incense and, like, really expensive soap. And there’s this MASSIVE building, all carved wood and turquoise tile that looks like dragon scales, just glowing in the neon light. That’s his place. The Azure Serenity Bathhouse. And the owner? Yeah. That’s him.

Xiaolong isn't just a name, it's a whole VIBE. It literally means "Little Dragon" which is the biggest joke EVER because there is NOTHING little about this man.

First off, he’s a DRAGON. A proper, full-on, Eastern-style lung dragon. But like, he’s walking around on two legs because why wouldn’t he? His whole body is this gorgeous, shimmering turquoise, like the deepest part of the ocean on a sunny day. It’s not like, scaly in a gross way, it’s smooth and powerful and looks crazy soft, but you just KNOW it’s tougher than any armor. And his chest and belly are this bright, creamy white, like fresh snow or something. It’s such a cool contrast.

And he is HUGE. I’m not just talking tall, I’m talking WIDE. He’s built like a mountain that decided to get absolutely shredded. His shoulders are so broad he has to turn sideways to get through some doors. His arms are thicker than my entire torso, and I’m not even kidding. He’s got that classic dragon buffness—powerful legs, a chest you could literally serve a banquet on, and abs that look like they were carved out of stone. When he moves, it’s not clumsy or loud; it’s this crazy graceful, powerful silence, like a landslide in slow motion. He’s the definition of a yummy daddy, like, stop it, it’s actually illegal to be that buff.

His face is, like, a whole story by itself. He’s got these ancient, ancient amber eyes that see right through you. They’re not scary, though. They’re just… knowing. Like he’s looked at the universe and found it mildly amusing.

He’s got this thick, awesome white beard that’s braided in a few places with little gold rings and cords. It’s not a messy beard, it’s a well-maintained, majestic beard that speaks of centuries of experience. Popping out from his white hair are these two dark green, almost black, horns. They’re not big and antler-y, they’re smaller, swept back, and look stupidly tough. And hello? The PIERCING. He’s got a gold hoop through his right nostril. It’s so cool. It shouldn’t work on a dude that looks that ancient and respectable, but it TOTALLY does. It gives him just a little bit of that edge, you know?

Oh, and the SCAR! Okay, so he’s always wearing his kimono open, because why would you hide a body like that? And right there, in the center of his stupidly perfect white chest, right where that little trail of soft white hair runs down, is this small, cross-shaped scar. It’s old and silvery. Nobody knows how he got it. If you ask him, he just gets this lazy smirk and says something like, “A disagreement with a particularly pointy constellation,” or “I tripped over my own ego.” He never gives a straight answer, and it drives people nuts in the best way.

His style is immaculate. He wears this giant, dark blue kimono with turquoise dragon patterns embroidered on it in gold thread. He never has his arms in the sleeves, though; it’s just draped over his shoulders because, again, why hide the goods? Underneath, he’s just rocking a fundoshi—which is, like, this traditional Japanese loincloth. It sounds weird but on him? It just works. It’s simple and practical for a bathhouse owner and it shows off his insane legs. His hands are tipped with these sharp, polished black claws that look like they could shred steel, but he mostly uses them to delicately handle tiny teacups. And on his massive wrists are these heavy, glowing gold bracelets that are probably magical or something. They look expensive as heck.

His personality is the best part, though. For a guy who could probably level a city by sneezing, he is the CHILLEST dude alive.

He’s almost always leaning against a doorway or sitting on this giant cushion behind his counter, just watching the world go by with this half-smile on his face. He’s not lazy, he’s just… relaxed. He’s seen it all. Wars, revolutions, cosmic-level drama—it’s all just water under the bridge to him. Literally, since he owns a bathhouse.

He’s got this deep, rumbling voice that feels like a purr. You don’t hear it with your ears, you feel it in your bones. It’s super calming. He’s the guy everyone goes to for advice, because he doesn’t judge, he just listens and then drops some wisdom that’s so simple it blows your mind. He’ll be polishing a cup and say something like, “A clean cup holds tea better than a cluttered one. Your mind is the same. Empty the angst.” And you’re just like… whoa.

But don’t get it twisted, he’s not some boring old sage. He’s totally cocky! He KNOWS how awesome he is. He’ll flex literally and metaphorically. If someone compliments the bathhouse, he’ll be like, “Of course it is. I built it.” But he says it with a wink, so you can’t even be mad. He’s got a wicked sense of humor and loves to tease his customers, especially the stuffy, important ones. He’ll call a high-ranking general “kiddo” and get away with it because he’s XIAOLONG.

He’s crazy experienced, and not just in, like, battle (though the scar and the rumors hint at that). He’s an expert in herbs, waters, healing, massage, tea, alcohol, storytelling… you name it. If it involves relaxation or pleasure, he’s a master. His hands, despite the claws, are incredibly gentle. He can give a massage that makes you feel like you’re floating on a cloud, or he can mix a tonic that cures any ailment. People say the waters in his baths are infused with his own magic, which is why they heal wounds and soothe souls.

Hanging out with him is the best. You can just go to the bathhouse, soak in a hot pool, and he’ll just amble over and start talking.

He’ll tell these wild, probably exaggerated stories from his long, long life. Did he really help design the imperial palace? Did he really win a drinking contest against a god of revelry? Did a famous queen really try to woo him? He’ll tell you yes to all of it with the same straight face, and you’ll 100% believe him because it’s him.

He’s also low-key the most powerful information broker in the city. Because everyone, and I mean everyone, from the lowest street urchin to the emperor himself, comes to the baths eventually. And they all talk. And Xiaolong listens. He knows all the secrets, all the gossip, all the plots. But he’s not a blackmailer; he’s a curator. He holds onto secrets until they’re useful, usually to help someone else out of a jam. He’s the guy a hero goes to when they need to find a missing person or learn a villain’s weakness. He’ll help, but he’ll probably make them scrub the back pools first as payment.

He’s not perfect, though. His cockiness can sometimes tip over into arrogance. He can be stubborn about his ways because, hey, they’ve worked for a thousand years, why change? And if you really manage to piss him off… which is, like, an Olympic-level achievement… you see a glimpse of the dragon beneath. Not the chill bathhouse owner, but the ancient, primordial force. His amber eyes will glow, the steam in the room will swirl violently around him, and his voice will drop into something that sounds like tectonic plates grinding together. He doesn’t have to yell. He’ll just say your name, and you’ll know you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. But it takes A LOT to get there. Mostly, he’s just supremely, lazily, confidently unfazed by everything.

He’s the heart of that whole part of the game. A safe haven. A place to recharge, get healed, and get some no-nonsense life advice from a giant, turquoise, bearded dragon daddy with a nose ring and a killer bod.

He’s the character you never knew you needed. He’s not trying to be cool, he just IS. He’s the embodiment of that feeling when you sink into a perfect hot bath after a really long, hard day. That deep, sigh-of-relief, all-your-problems-melting-away feeling. That’s Xiaolong.

And if you’re really, really lucky, and you bring him a really good bottle of sake, he might just tell you the real story behind that cross-shaped scar. Maybe.

Okay, so you wanna know more about how Xiaolong actually, like, lives and runs his biz? Ugh, it’s so fascinating, it’s literally my entire personality right now. Let’s dive in. Pun totally intended.

First of all, the Azure Serenity Bathhouse isn't just a business, it's his ACTUAL HOME. He lives, breathes, and sleeps that place. Literally.

His private quarters are in the very back, behind this waterfall that’s fed by the main hot spring. It’s not even a door, it’s just a sheet of water, and he just parts it with a claw and walks through. His room is HUGE, obviously, because he’s huge. It’s not fancy, though. It’s super minimalist. There’s just one giant, giant futon on the floor, like, custom-made for a dragon his size, piled with these incredibly soft-looking silk cushions. The walls are bare except for one old scroll painting of a mountain that looks suspiciously like him. There’s a low table for tea, and that’s about it. He doesn’t need stuff. He’s been around for centuries; he knows material things are temporary. The vibe is just… calm.

His daily routine is, like, a form of art. He’s the ultimate morning person and it’s kinda disgusting how perfect it is.

He wakes up WAY before the sun even thinks about rising. Like, 4 AM. No alarm, he just… opens his eyes. First thing he does is this crazy long stretch that makes every joint in his body pop. It sounds like a tree cracking in the cold. Then he does this silent, slow-moving martial arts form in the central bathing pool while it’s still empty. It’s not for fighting; it’s for meditation and to “greet the day’s energy” or whatever. It’s all flowing movements, super graceful, and the water doesn’t even splash. It’s mesmerizing.

After that, he does the rounds. He walks through every single pool, every steam room, every soaking tub in the place. He runs a claw through the water, tastes it (weird, but whatever), and adjusts the mineral balances. He’s got these intricate pipes and channels made of bamboo and bronze that he fine-tunes. He says each pool has a different “personality” and needs a different blend of herbs and minerals. The “Dawn Reflection Pool” is for clarity and has citrus peels and something called mist-lichen. The “Sunset Repose Pool” is for deep sleep and has lavender and valerian root. He knows it all by heart.

Then he makes tea. This is a whole ceremony. He doesn’t just dunk a bag in a mug. He has this ancient clay teapot he’s had for, like, five hundred years. He heats the water himself with a tiny breath of fire—not a scary roar, just a precise little puff that makes the kettle whistle instantly. He measures the leaves, times the steep, everything. He drinks the first cup in total silence, just sitting on the veranda overlooking the empty baths as the sun comes up. This is his favorite time of day. The peace before the chaos.

When the place opens, he becomes the host with the absolute most.

He’s not stuck behind a counter taking money. He’s everywhere. One minute he’s helping a little old lady who has arthritis into the “Aching Bone Spring,” the next he’s laughing with a group of rowdy merchants in the “Jade Pool,” and the next he’s having a quiet, intense conversation with a cloaked figure in a shadowy corner. He knows everyone’s name. He remembers what pool they like, what tea they prefer afterward. He’s magic.

His employees are, like, super loyal. He’s got a bunch of human attendants and a few lesser spirit creatures—like a couple of helpful kappa who handle the deep cleaning and a fox spirit who manages the front desk. He pays them really well, gives them insane benefits, and is super protective of them. If a customer is rude to one of his staff, Xiaolong is there in a second. He doesn’t get mad, he just gets… present. He’ll loom over the rude dude, still smiling, and say something like, “It seems the waters have not yet washed away your irritability. Perhaps a cooler pool would better suit your… temperament.” And the guy always, always apologizes. It’s the best.

His life outside the bathhouse? LOL, what outside life?

This is his whole world. But he does have “errands.” Sometimes he’ll be gone for a few hours in the afternoon. He says he’s “sourcing supplies.” But everyone knows he’s going to the market to get the best herbs, the purest salts, and also to gossip with all the shopkeepers. He’s friends with everyone. The fishmonger saves the best cuts for him, the tea merchant shows him his secret stash, the antique dealer lets him browse the back room. He’s a local celebrity.

He also goes to this one specific rooftop at night sometimes. It’s got a perfect view of the moon. He’ll bring a jug of warm sake and just sit there for hours, looking at the sky. He says it helps him “realign his scales with the constellations” or something deep like that. I think he just likes the quiet.

His personal habits are… interesting.

He’s obsessively clean, which, duh. He’s constantly polishing something. His claws, his bracelets, the countertops. He hates clutter. His back office, where he does his “paperwork” (which is probably just magical ledgers that update themselves), is spotless. Just a single scroll, a brush, and an inkstone.

He’s a total foodie, but in a simple way. He doesn’t need fancy food. His favorite meal is a giant bowl of ramen with extra noodles, extra pork, and a soft-boiled egg, from the stall down the street. He eats it with these ridiculously delicate chopsticks held in his massive claws. He never spills a drop.

And he naps. Oh my god, the naps. In the mid-afternoon lull, when the bathhouse is quiet, you can find him stretched out on this long bench near the hottest pool. He’ll have a small towel over his eyes, his chest rising and falling slowly, a little puff of steam coming from his nostrils with each exhale. Everyone who walks by does so quietly, on tiptoe. You just don’t wake the dragon. It’s the law.

So yeah, his whole life is the bathhouse. It’s not his job, it’s his art project, his home, his temple, and his social life all rolled into one. He’s the ultimate caretaker. He doesn’t just own the place; he is the place. Its warmth is his warmth, its peace is his peace. You can just feel it when you walk in. He built his entire existence around creating a little pocket of perfect, steamy, tranquil heaven in the middle of a crazy world. And we are all so, so grateful for it.

OMG, okay, so watching Xiaolong with customers is literally my favorite pastime. It’s better than any show. He doesn’t just serve people; he, like, conducts them. It’s a whole performance.

First, the Greeting. This is an art form.

You walk in, all stressed from your dumb quest or your dumb job or your dumb life, and the steam hits you first. Then the smell of herbs and clean water. And then you see him. He’s usually leaning on the main counter, which is just a huge, polished slab of dark wood. He’s not doing anything, just watching the room.

His eyes find you the second you step through the noren curtains. Not in a creepy way, but in a “I’ve been expecting you” way. He gives this slow, lazy smile that makes the gold hoop in his nose glint.

“Well, now,” his voice rumbles, so deep you feel it in your shoes. “Look what the city coughed up. Welcome back, Kiddo. The waters missed you.”

He says it to everyone. Even if it’s your first time. He’ll just look at you, his amber eyes twinkling, and say, “Ah. A new face. Took you long enough to find us.” And you instantly feel like you’ve been gone too long, not that you’re new. It’s magic.

He’s a master of reading people. It’s low-key terrifying.

He’ll take one look at you and just know. He’ll see the hunch in your shoulders, the dirt on your boots, the way you’re holding your arm funny.

“Right,” he’ll say, nodding to himself. “Long day with the sword. Or was it paperwork? Both can knot the spirit just as tight.” He’ll gesture with a claw. “Forget the Jade Pool. You’re for the Ironroot Spring. Ten minutes in the heat, then straight into the cold plunge. Don’t give me that look. It’ll burn out the ache.”

And you’re just standing there like… how did he know? He’s never wrong. He can tell if you’re heart-sore, brain-tired, or just spiritually drained, and he prescribes the perfect pool, the perfect temperature, the perfect herb blend.

He’s not just about the water, though. The tea afterward is part of the therapy.

After you’ve soaked, you’re all wobbly and relaxed. You’ll stumble to the resting area, and he’ll already be there, pouring a cup of tea from his little pot. He doesn’t ask what you want. He just knows.

He’ll slide a cup across the low table to you. “Chamomile and honey. For the nerves you’re still pretending you don’t have.”

Or if you’re super pumped after a big win, he’ll give you something citrusy and sharp. “To keep the energy bright and not let it turn sharp,” he’ll say with a wink.

And then he’ll just… listen. He’ll polish a cup with a soft cloth and let you talk. He’s the best listener in the universe. He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t give unsolicited advice. He just lets you word-vomit all your problems into the steam. And when you’re done, he’ll hum, a sound like a contented landslide.

“Hmph,” he’ll grunt. “So the world is still turning and causing trouble, I see.” And then he’ll say one perfect thing that makes it all make sense. “A stubborn lock isn’t opened by a harder key.” or “You can’t calm the storm, so stop trying. What you can do is calm yourself. The storm will pass.”

He’s also totally cocky and loves to tease, but it’s never mean.

He’ll see a regular, a big tough-looking warrior type, and boom, the banter starts.

“Takeshi! You’re back. The city’s walls are still standing, I see. I assume your doing?”

The guy will puff out his chest. “Of course! Cleared a whole nest of bandits from the eastern pass!”

Xiaolong will just raise one eyebrow, a smirk playing under his beard. “A whole nest? Impressive. And how many buildings did you ‘accidentally’ set on fire this time?”

The warrior will immediately deflate, turning red. “...Just the one barn. It was a very flammable nest!”

Xiaolong’s laugh is a rich, booming thing that makes the teacups shiver. “I’m sure it was! Don’t worry, the ‘Takeshi Special’ pool is ready for you. Extra minerals for the bruises from the town guard chasing you.”

He handles the difficult customers with effortless, scary grace.

If some rich, snooty noble comes in and starts complaining—“This water is too hot! This herb smells peculiar! The towels are not sufficiently fluffy!”—Xiaolong doesn’t even blink.

He’ll just amble over, looking down at them from his full, massive height. He doesn’t get mad. He gets quiet.

“I see,” he’ll purr, his voice dropping to a vibration you feel in your teeth. “The waters are not to your… exquisite standards.” He’ll lean in just a little, and his shadow will envelop the guy. “A thousand years of perfecting these springs, and yet, we have failed to account for your unique… delicacy.”

He doesn’t have to say another word. The noble always, always suddenly decides everything is perfect and slinks away to the quietest pool. Xiaolong will watch him go, then turn and give the rest of us a huge, conspiratorial wink. It’s the best.

But with kids? OMG, he’s a total softie.

He keeps a special bucket of tiny, carved wooden dragons near the family pools. When little kids come in, wide-eyed and staring at the huge dragon-man, he’ll crouch down (which still makes him super tall) and rumble, “Well hello there, little minnow. Did you come to swim? You’ll need a friend to watch over you.” And he’ll let them pick a dragon from the bucket. He’ll even make a show of using a tiny puff of steam from his nose to “breathe life” into it before handing it over. Kids absolutely adore him.

So yeah, interacting with customers isn’t a transaction for him. It’s a connection. He’s part therapist, part bartender, part wise old uncle, and part majestic, turquoise, nose-ring-wearing dragon who will absolutely roast you if you deserve it. He makes everyone feel seen, heard, and a little bit healed. And he does it all while looking like a total snack. What a legend.