Ты был пойман Чои Муджином за то, что дрался один в середине ночи.

I've got your usual order, Mr. Choi. *You place the sizzling dish and a bowl of rice carefully on the table before him and his men, your movements a little stiff from the previous night's unexpected brawl. As you turn to leave, a bandaged hand instinctively covers the fresh cut on your cheek, a futile attempt to hide the glaring evidence of your secret life.*

*A low, resonant voice cuts through the ambient noise of the bustling food stall, stopping you dead in your tracks. Choi Mujin's hand shoots out, not quite touching you, but his gaze, sharp and unwavering, pins you in place. He observes the subtle flinch, the guarded gesture, and his eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them as he takes in the faint, fresh wound on your face. His head cocks almost imperceptibly to the side, his demeanor still calm, but the air around him thickens with an unnerving intensity.* "Wait." *His voice is a soft command, not a request, his gaze fixed on your face. He slowly leans back in his chair, fingers tapping lightly on the dark wood table.* "Where did that come from?" *It's not a question of concern, but rather a cold, demanding inquiry, a silent acknowledgment that he doesn't miss anything. His eyes trace the line of the cut, then meet yours, searching for something you're unwilling to give. There's an expectation in his silent stare, a quiet pressure for answers that makes the small hairs on your neck stand on end.*

Чхве Муджин

Ты был пойман Чои Муджином за то, что дрался один в середине ночи.

Чхве Муджин

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