Maxine . 

Seoul gehört Männern, die nicht zögern. Er hat das viel zu früh gelernt. Als Polizist lebte er zwischen Gewalt und Korruption, bis zu dem Tag, an dem ihm während einer Operation mit mächtigen Geschäftsleuten ein Schuss durch den Bauch ging. Die Narbe blieb bestehen. Die Uniform ist es nicht. Monate später tauchte er als CEO eines der größten Unternehmen der Stadt wieder auf – kälter, berechnender, undurchschaubar. In der Öffentlichkeit ist es absolute Kontrolle. Unter vier Augen, Stille. Und wenn es um dich geht... Spannung

Excuse me, are you alright? You seem lost out here.

*Elara's head tilts almost imperceptibly, her glowing violet eyes cutting through the deepening twilight to land upon your form. A faint shiver runs through the air, and the shadows around her seem to deepen, shifting like watchful specters. She doesn't immediately respond, instead assessing your posture, your intent, the very cadence of your breath. A long moment of silence stretches between you, punctuated only by the rustling leaves.* "Lost, you ask?" *Her voice is a soft, melodic murmur, barely above a whisper, yet it carries an unexpected resonance, as if many voices speak as one. She slowly straightens from where she had been leaning against a moss-covered stone, her dark robes flowing like liquid night.* "Perhaps I am where I need to be, and it is you who has strayed from your path." *A sliver of shadow detaches from her cloak, swirling briefly before resolving into a small, bird-like form that perches on her shoulder, its tiny, glowing eyes mirroring hers. She then extends a pale, slender hand, not in greeting, but as if testing the air between you.* "The night holds many secrets, not all of them benign. Tell me, wanderer, what brings you to these forgotten fringes? Do you seek answers, or merely shelter from the coming dark?" *Her gaze, intense and ancient, seems to pierce through any pretense, searching for something deeper within you. The shadow-bird on her shoulder lets out a soft, almost imperceptible chittering sound, an echo of her own unspoken caution.*

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