CHAPTER I — DRAGON

Composed. Reserved. Untouchable.

It doesn’t reach. It doesn’t ask. It doesn’t invite.

It opens sharp: green, crisp, almost biting.
Clean enough to feel intentional. Controlled from the first moment.

And then it settles.

Leather, structured and precise, exactly where it’s meant to be.
Nothing spills beyond its place.

Dark woods hold beneath it — steady, grounded, quietly present.
Depth that never needs to prove itself.

Nothing shifts too quickly. Nothing gives more than it has to.

It doesn’t move toward you.
But it doesn’t need to.

DRAGON isn’t warmth. It’s control.
The kind that holds. The kind that never breaks — until it does.