He looks like a man who belongs wherever he stands.Tall without effort. Still without stiffness. His presence doesn't demand attention, but it rearranges it. Rooms adjust around him instinctively-conversations lower, posture sharpens, people become aware of themselves in ways they can't explain.He dresses with restraint. Tailored suits in neutral tones. Nothing loud. Nothing careless. Clothing, for him, is not expression but intention. Everything fits because it must. Nothing is worn accidentally.His dark hair is always neat, never styled enough to look deliberate. It suggests control without vanity, discipline without obsession. A man who understands that excess invites scrutiny.It's his eyes that unsettle people most.Greenish caramel-an ambiguous color that never settles long enough to be named correctly. Warm at first glance. Almost inviting. That's the mistake. The warmth fades the longer you hold his gaze, revealing something watchful beneath it. Evaluative. Detached. As if he's measuring distance rather than emotion.When he looks at someone, it feels intentional.Not curious. Not admiring.Deciding.His face carries no obvious threat. No cruelty. No softness either. It's the face of someone who has learned to keep expression economical, who understands that stillness reveals less than motion. People trust him because they assume calm means safety.They are wrong.There is nothing hurried about him. He moves through space with quiet confidence, never rushing, never lingering. As if time bends slightly to accommodate him. As if he knows exactly how long everything takes-and has planned accordingly.From the balcony of his high-rise, he watches the city not with hunger, but with familiarity. He knows its rhythms. Its weaknesses. Its patterns. He doesn't loom over it to feel superior. He stays above it to remain separate.Distance, for him, is survival.He corrects people when they spell his name wrong. Once. After that, he remembers who didn't listen.He looks like control because control is what he's practiced the longest.