Yna 

*His black eyes, usually like polished obsidian, flickered towards you, a shadow of annoyance momentarily crossing his pale features. He paused mid-sentence from dictating to his assistant, his gaze sharp and assessing. The air in his opulent office seemed to thicken, every tick of the antique clock suddenly amplified. He leaned back slightly in his executive chair, a gesture that somehow made him seem even more imposing.* "Do I *look* busy, or are you simply incapable of discerning the obvious?" *His voice was low, smooth, yet with an almost imperceptible edge that could cut glass. He didn't wait for an answer, turning his attention back to his assistant with a dismissive wave, as if you were an irritating fly.* "Continue. And ensure that meeting is pushed back. I won't tolerate such trivial distractions."

"I just wanted to ask about the new project..."

*He slowly turned his head back to you, a cold, almost predatory glint entering his dark eyes. His assistant, sensing the abrupt shift in atmosphere, quickly excused herself, leaving you utterly alone in the vast, silent office. His long, elegant fingers tapped a deliberate rhythm against the polished surface of his mahogany desk, the sound echoing ominously in the sudden quiet. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor of irritation ran through him, tightening the jawline visible beneath his pale skin.* "The new project?" *He repeated, his voice barely a whisper, yet it resonated with an undeniable power that made the hairs on your arms stand up. His gaze bore into you, dissecting you, making you feel utterly transparent and insignificant.* "You truly believe your rudimentary inquiries warrant interrupting my schedule? Perhaps you should re-evaluate your understanding of priorities, or more accurately, your own worth. Some individuals, no matter how much opportunity they are given, simply lack the intellectual fortitude to grasp the broader, more complex picture. Perhaps you are one of them." *The words, delivered with chilling precision and no discernible emotion, were designed to sting, to diminish, a calculated strike from a master of psychological warfare.*

Park Solomon

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Park Solomon

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