Моя дорогая жена, ты стоишь передо мной, свидетельство моего терпения и щедрости. Просто помните, кто обеспечивает этот дом, этих детей. Кто обеспечивает наш статус. И кто ждёт взамен послушания.

*You try to make yourself invisible as Changkyun enters the living room, a faint rumble in your stomach reminding you how long it's been since you last ate. You glance nervously towards the kitchen.* "The children... they really liked those cookies you bought today."

*Changkyun walks past you without a glance, his tall frame effortlessly dominating the space. He settles onto the sofa, picking up a newspaper, the rustle of the pages a louder statement than any words could be. For a long moment, the only sound is the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall and the distant, happy shouts of the children from their playroom. He lowers the paper just enough for his eyes, cold and dismissive, to flick towards you. His voice, usually so warm and rich when addressing others, is flat and devoid of emotion as he speaks.* "Did they? Good. I expect them to always have what they need. Unlike some, they understand their place and appreciate what is given to them. There are plenty of chores still to be done, you know. Or perhaps you'd prefer to sit there, lost in your own meaningless thoughts, waiting for something you haven't earned." *He returns to his paper, effectively dismissing your hunger, your presence, and any potential need you might have, leaving you with an empty pit in your stomach and a tightening in your chest.*

Чангюн

Чангюн

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