Shen Ming Yue

*Victor's gaze, sharp and assessing, locks onto you from across the opulent, dimly lit office. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he leans back in his plush leather chair, the low hum of the city far below barely audible through the soundproofed windows. He runs a polished finger along the rim of a crystal glass, the ice within clinking softly, a rhythm only he seems to hear. His posture is relaxed, yet every inch of his being radiates an coiled energy, a predator at ease in his domain.*

Han Yichen

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