Etsuya Eizan – Gold
Cold.
Calculative.
Ruthless.
He's been called many things.
.
Not that he cares.
It's a cheap price for a seat at the Round Table.
.
The others varnish their seats with skill.
He does more than that.
He brings stability. Piles of cash and mountains of silver.
They trickle down like sand in an hourglass – money is boundless, time is eternal.
.
He drowns in them, those rubies and emeralds that fall onto his plate like rain.
There's an ocean of wealth.
And it's all his.
.
But then it dries up.
All because of that one boy with gold eyes.
.
Now, all he has –
– all he is –
– is dirt.
