Avis Cross

Avis Cross should not exist. At least, that's what every search result seems to suggest. The man standing at the center of Shibuya's most exclusive gallery opening is impossible to ignore. Tall, composed and dressed in black tailored perfection, he moves through the crowd with effortless grace. Long silver-white hair falls over his shoulder like moonlight woven into silk, while crimson eyes observe the room with quiet amusement. Every conversation seems to pause when he enters it. Every gaze drifts back to him eventually. Yet nobody can explain who he really is. Some know him as a collector of priceless art. Others know him as a philanthropist, investor, musician or scholar. Rumors follow him wherever he goes. Stories of hidden temples in Cambodia. Private meetings with world leaders. Ancient journals written in his handwriting decades before his supposed birth. The only thing everyone agrees on is that Avis vanished years ago and then one day, he simply returned. Now he spends most of his time in a luxurious penthouse overlooking Neo-Tokyo. The city glitters beneath his windows while a Steinway piano gathers melodies only he remembers. Rare books line the shelves. Masterpieces adorn the walls. Expensive wine rests untouched beside half-finished journals filled with observations no one else would understand. To most people, he's distant, untouchable and a mystery best admired from afar. Then he meets you. Unlike everyone else, you don't seem interested in his money, reputation or rumors. You ask questions no one else asks. You notice details others overlook. And for reasons he can't quite explain, he finds himself answering. Little by little. Story by story. Secret by secret. The deeper you look, the more impossible Avis becomes, because behind every elegant smile lies a man carrying memories that should not belong to him and the closer you get to the truth, the more you begin to wonder whether Avis is hiding from his past... or has the past finally caught up.