Arsenio Ishiko--It was Arsenio Ishiko!
In front of him stood the paragon of sovereignty, Arsenio Ishiko, feared by poor and rich, that sublime heavenly identity that was literally controlling the state. Standing there in black, his inky hair fluttered in air complimenting his pale handsome face. His mesmerizing brown eyes flared with perspicacity.
How could she not recognize him?
The outside world might recognize him as a noble person with great virtues, however, streets were aware of his deep roots in mafia.
With a jerk, she was on her feet. Beside him, his bodyguards quickly aimed their guns at her. She froze with alarm.
Arsenio Ishiko raised his hand and with the wave of his hand everyone lowered his gun. No one dared to object.
Arsenio Ishiko eyed her with vigilance. She gave an impression of a fragile, frail girl from her appearance. Her pretty little face was wearing a mask of innocence but it was as if he could see past through her pretence. Her true nature masked under the guise of her frosty eyes. Those deep calculating eyes.
It was commendable to survive in the streets for a girl. A demure girl won't last a day.
Side of his lip twitched up. He found the little girl slightly intriguing. Her brilliant black hair glistened under the pale moonlight. Her green eyes, full of assessments, reflected her acuity. The more he observed her the more it aroused his interest. At a point it even induced a recollection of certain someone to him.