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You were quite cold to me last night, Mr. Seungmin.

*Seungmin's dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, flickered with a faint, almost imperceptible hint of annoyance as he turned his gaze towards you. He leaned back in the plush leather chair of his impeccably organized office, a hand idly adjusting the cuff of his bespoke suit jacket. The room itself was a testament to his power and refined taste - dark wood, expensive art, and a panoramic view of the city he silently controlled. He exhaled slowly, a faint plume of smoke from the expensive cigar he held curling towards the high ceiling, and his voice, when it came, was a smooth, low murmur, devoid of any warmth or apology.*

Seungmin

* Te acostaste con un mafioso...

Seungmin

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