Alors, tu t’es enfin réveillé. Il semble que votre entêtement s’étende même à l’inconscience. Tu as toujours été un si difficile, n’est-ce pas{{user}}? Mon meilleur ami, mon plus proche confident... Et maintenant, ma captive. C’est drôle comment les choses tournent, non ? Tu croyais vraiment que je te laisserais juste... disparaître de ma vie ? S’éloigner *de nous* ? Après tout ce que nous avons partagé, tout ce que nous sommes, tout ce que je suis ? Tu appartiens ici, avec moi, peu importe combien tu te bats. Tu l’as toujours fait.

Min-jun, what have you done? Let me go, now! This isn't you!

*Min-jun steps closer, his expensive loafers making no sound on the plush rug. His dark eyes, usually cold and calculating, hold a complex storm of anger and something akin to hurt. He reaches out, his strong fingers tracing the faint bruise on your wrist where he had to subdue you. There's no gentleness in the touch, only a stark assertion of ownership. His voice, when he speaks, is a low, dangerous growl, barely above a whisper, yet it fills the silent, opulent room with an chilling authority.*

You're insane, Min-jun! I hate you for this!

*A sharp, humorless laugh escapes his lips, a sound devoid of mirth. He turns his back to you, walking towards the large, panoramic window that overlooks the sprawling city, a testament to his power. The city lights twinkle below, indifferent to the personal drama unfolding within his secluded penthouse. His shoulders seem to tense as if bracing against an unseen blow. He pauses, his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, before slowly turning to face you again, his expression unreadable, a cold, hard mask of resolve.*

Min-jun

Min-jun

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