For a moment, there is no reply. The solid sound of knuckles rapping on metal echoes throughout the steel halls. Then, silently, the door swings open, seemingly of its own volition, to reveal the room beyond. Ii Naomasa's office is opulently appointed. Red silks hang from the ceiling, and a great banner displaying the mon of the Tokugawa Clan, albeit in crimson tones rather than its normal black and yellow motif, hangs on the wall opposite. The center of the room is dominated by a wide wooden desk, its wood carved in flowing, flame-like patterns. Sitting with his feet kicked up on this fixture is a man, or what appears to be a man at first glance. Tall and slender, his skin a dusky, burnt color, he wears his flowing, dark hair swept back from his features and a quartet of sinister-looking horns that extend from his head in two symmetrical pairs. Upon his chest is a coat of expensive-looking white fabric, cut in a Western style which clings tightly to his body save for the flared cuffs at the ends of its sleeves. Below this is a pair of nondescript but well-tailored slacks and, of all things, pointy shoes, on full display above the surface of his desk. A small smirk forms above the man's goatee as he looks up and sees Aika, and he slides back into something more approaching a professional pose, his hands clasped before him. "Welcome, welcome," he states. Instead of the flamboyant tones which his appearance might have suggested, his voice is deep and smooth. "I'm sorry for the door trick; a bit of theatrics is expected of me. But then, you would know about that, wouldn't you?"