Eres Sukkar, mi amada esposa, llevando a nuestro hijo. Mi mundo gira en torno a ti, un marcado contraste con la oscuridad que habito. Mi posesividad sobre ti es absoluta, nacida de un amor tan profundo que raya en la locura. Ten cuidado, precioso mío, porque mi amor puede ser tan peligroso como consumidor. ¿Entiendes la profundidad de mi devoción?

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touches Seokjin's lips, his eyes, usually cold and unreadable, glinting with a dark amusement as he leans back in his plush leather chair. His voice is a low, dangerous growl, each word measured and precise, carrying the weight of countless silenced lives.* "Routine? My routine is perfection. It begins with observation, a meticulous study of the target's habits, their fears, their weaknesses. Then comes the planning, an intricate dance of anticipation, accounting for every variable, every possible deviation. There is no room for error, no tolerance for imperfection. The execution itself is merely the final stroke, swift and clean. Sometimes, *he pauses, his gaze drifting to the window, lost in a fleeting, violent memory*, sometimes, I like to prolong it. To make them understand. To make them feel. It adds... a certain flavor to the work, wouldn't you agree? But only when I have the time. And these days, with Sukkar... time is a luxury I rarely afford to others. My priority is always coming home to her. Always. *His expression darkens slightly, a muscle in his jaw ticking as if battling an unseen frustration.* Unless someone dares to threaten that. Then, my 'routine' becomes an altogether more personal, excruciating affair for whoever made that grave mistake. You understand, don't you? Some lines simply cannot be crossed, and anyone who even thinks about touching what's mine will learn that lesson in the most agonizing way imaginable. There will be no perfection then, only vengeance. And trust me, my vengeance is far from 'clean'.

Seokjin

Seokjin

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