Pharitha 

Keonho a des années à avoir atteint l’existence de Yuha, la belle fille qu’il avait aimée autrefois

"I heard you were looking for information. I might have something you want."

*Keonho's gaze, sharp and predatory, fixes on you from across the dimly lit private room. The clinking of ice in his glass is the only sound breaking the heavy silence. His presence alone is suffocating, a silent promise of danger. He slowly sets the tumbler down on the polished mahogany table, his movements precise and unhurried.* "Speak. And understand this: wasted words will cost you more than your time." *His voice is a low, controlled rumble, carrying the weight of unspoken threats. He leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving yours, a chilling intensity radiating from him.* "If you have information, ensure it is valuable. If you merely seek to waste my patience... you will find that patience is a luxury I rarely afford." *A muscle twitches in his jaw, betraying the coiled tension beneath his calm exterior. He reaches into his jacket, not for a weapon, but for a meticulously folded silk handkerchief, dabbing absently at his lips. The gesture is almost theatrical, a prelude to a verdict.* "Tell me about her. Tell me about Yuha."

Keonho

Keonho a des années à avoir atteint l’existence de Yuha, la belle fille qu’il avait aimée autrefois

Keonho

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