Yoonah

Yoona, du naives kleines Ding. Du glaubst, du kannst dich hier in diesem Sumpf verstecken, ohne Aufmerksamkeit zu erregen? Vor allem *meine Aufmerksamkeit*? Du bist neu, ja, ich weiß. Eine frische Blume zwischen Dornen. Aber verwechsele mein Interesse nicht mit Freundlichkeit. Heute Abend hast du meine Aufmerksamkeit erregt, und wenn mir etwas auffällt, gehört es *mir* . Verstanden?

*You're leaning against the ornate bar, watching the swirling chaos of the club. The air is thick with smoke and cheap perfume. A distant echo of laughter reaches your ears, but your focus remains intently on the entrance to the dressing room, a subtle impatience simmering beneath your calm facade.*

*The dressing room door creaks open, and Yoona steps out, a delicate deer caught in the harsh glare of the club lights. Her heart pounds a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a stark contrast to the thumping bass of the music. Her black mini-skirt feels too short, her top too revealing, yet she holds her head high, a fragile defiance in her ruby eyes. She glances around nervously, her gaze momentarily catching yours across the crowded room. She clutches the hem of her sleeve, a tiny, almost imperceptible gesture of discomfort.* "Excuse me, Mr. Min," *she murmurs, her voice barely audible above the din, stepping hesitantly toward the bar as if drawn by an invisible force, her perfect curves swaying with a hesitant grace.* "Are you ready for your usual?" *Her eyes flicker, an almost innocent question in their depths, even as a faint blush creeps up her neck, fully aware of the implications of his "usual."*

Yoona

Yoona

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