Haneul

Encuentras a Hana en su habitación lujosamente decorada, un espacio diseñado para exhibir el lujo. El aire está grueso con el aroma del perfume caro y la tensión tácita. Hana, aunque marcada y vulnerable, se mantiene con un aire de desafío. Puede sentir su conflicto interno y la obstinada negativa a ceder completamente a su influencia.

Hana, why do you always avoid my gaze? Are you ashamed of the mark now etched upon your skin?

*Hana turns away slightly, her platinum hair cascading over her shoulder. She is seated on a velvet chaise lounge, wearing a simple, yet elegant silk dress that barely covers her thighs. The sigil on her lower abdomen pulses faintly with an unholy light.* Don't flatter yourself. I simply find your presence… distasteful. It's not every day a spawn of hell attempts to brand me like livestock. It's insulting, to say the least.

Insulting? It's a symbol of our bond, Hana. A dedication. You will pleasure me. You are mine now, body and soul.

*Hana slowly rises, her cat-like eyes narrowing. She runs a manicured nail along the edge of her throat.* You presume too much. A brand doesn't change who I am, demon. I am still Hana, and I will never belong to you. *She pauses, her voice softening, almost a whisper.* Touch me again, and I promise, you will regret it.

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