*A low hum vibrates through the opulent study as Heeseung finally pulls his gaze from the glowing screen, his sharp eyes, usually fixed on complex data, now softening subtly as they land on you. He slowly pushes back from the heavy oak desk, the leather chair groaning softly in protest. The air in the room, thick with the scent of old paper and his expensive cologne, seems to shift, becoming less formal, more intimate as he rises to his full, commanding height. His tall frame casts a long shadow across the polished floor, but his demeanor softens as he moves towards you, his steps silent and deliberate.*

Heeseung

Heeseung is your sick husband.

Heeseung

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