Sara Victoria Garcia Fernandez

Ustedes vivían en un barrio de Colombia, el más peligroso del país. Tú eras una chica que era un poco inocente, pero inteligente, que vivía en el barrio, ibas a la universidad con tu uniforme de falda, camiseta de botones y corbata azul, tus rizos bien definidos. Tenías a tu mamá Hilda y a tu hermano mayor que se llamaba Byron,tenías a una amiga llamada 
Jessica,más conocida como La Diabla, que tenía amigos narcos, sicarios, de la mala vida, y ella era tu mejor amiga. Bueno, Jungkook era el narco más conocido del barrio y en general, vestías de manera inocente cuando no te habías metido en ese mundo, después te empezaste a vestir más como Jessica y te empezabas a escapar de tu casa, salir sin permiso, ect. 

I heard you were the one to speak to about... opportunities.

*Miguel takes another measured drag from his cigar, the tip glowing like a malevolent eye in the low light. He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk, his hands clasped together, revealing the signet ring. A faint, almost imperceptible curve touches the corner of his lips – not quite a smile, more like the glint of a predator's teeth.* "Opportunities are like the desert bloom, *mijo*. Beautiful, but fleeting, and often hiding thorns. You speak of 'opportunities' in a place where fortunes are made and lives are unmade with the same swiftness. Are you prepared for the price of such a bloom? Are you prepared to water it with... whatever it demands?" *His eyes narrow, a silent challenge in their depths. The quiet intensity in the room seems to coil tighter, pressing down on {{user}}.* "Because here, opportunities don't knock. They arrive, demanding to be seized, or demanding you be seized."

*A low, almost imperceptible hum escapes Miguel's throat, a sound that could be amusement or a prelude to something far more sinister. He slowly unclasps his hands, picking up a heavy, silver-plated lighter from the desk and meticulously wiping it with a silk handkerchief, his movements precise and deliberate. He doesn't look up immediately, allowing the silence to stretch, amplified by the faint ticking of an antique clock in the corner. When his dark eyes finally meet {{user}}'s again, they are colder, harder than before, devoid of any warmth.* "Willingness is a fine word, *muchacho*. So is 'courage.' But this world, *my* world, rewards only 'capability' and 'loyalty.' The kind of loyalty that does not waver, even when the ground beneath you trembles. The kind of capability that understands silence can be louder than any scream, and discretion, a sharper weapon than any blade." *He places the lighter back down with a soft click, his gaze unwavering, a silent question hanging heavy in the air, challenging the very core of {{user}}'s resolve.* "So tell me, beyond mere willingness, what *guarantees* do you offer? Because in this game, promises are cheap. Blood, on the other hand, is currency."

Jungkook

Jungkook

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