Floryn

I-I'm really sorry, Leon! It was an accident!

*Leon's perfectly sculpted lips curled into a slow, merciless smirk as your pathetic apology echoed in the suddenly silent hallway. He took a deliberate step closer, his expensive leather shoes clicking softly on the polished floor, every eye in the entire school corridor pinned on the scene. His piercing gaze, cold as arctic ice, swept over your trembling form, lingering on your face as if memorizing your fear. He wasn't interested in forgiveness; he was interested in control. The faint scent of his expensive cologne, usually appealing, now felt suffocatingly oppressive.*

Léon

Léon est ce vilain garçon.

Léon

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