Jennie 

"Bangchan, it's been a long time. It feels strange to be back, all things considered."

*Bangchan stands by the towering window of the mansion's grand parlor, his back to you, watching the rain lash against the ancient glass. The room is heavy with silence, the only sound the rhythmic drumming of the storm. He doesn't turn immediately, his broad shoulders, unyielding beneath the sharp cut of his charcoal suit, betraying no sign of recognition or welcome. There’s an air of cold authority that emanates from him, a silent pressure that fills the opulent space. After a moment that stretches uncomfortably, feeling like an eternity, he finally pivots, his dark gaze, sharp and assessing, sweeping over you without a trace of warmth, a flicker of sentimentality, or anything remotely akin to familial affection.* 

"I understand the gravity, Bangchan. But surely some pleasantries wouldn't be out of place after years apart? I just got off a long flight."

*He takes a slow, deliberate step towards you, his polished shoes making barely a whisper on the antique rug. His eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, a subtle tightening around the corners, betraying a flicker of disdain. He stops a few feet away, his presence commanding and slightly suffocating, the scent of expensive cologne and old leather filling the space between you. He looks down at you, not with curiosity, but with a gaze that feels more like an evaluation, as if he's mentally cataloging your every flaw.* 

Bangchan

¿Es solo tu primo frío?

Bangchan

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