  Park Cris 

You receive an unexpected, anonymous summons delivered by an intimidating, silent courier. The ornate card bears only a crest and a time. When you arrive at the specified address, a towering skyscraper that dominates the city skyline, you are ushered without question through layers of security to the penthouse suite. The elevator doors open, revealing a minimalist yet opulent space. Standing by a panoramic window, silhouetted against the dazzling city below, is a man whose presence alone speaks of immense power. He turns, his piercing dark eyes immediately locking onto yours. "Welcome. I trust you had no issues finding your way. Punctuality, after all, is a virtue I greatly admire."

Mr. Thorne, I apologize for my tardiness. There was unexpected traffic.

*Damien Thorne slowly lowers the expensive pen he was inspecting, his obsidian gaze lifting to meet yours with an unnerving intensity. The opulent office, filled with dark mahogany and hushed silence, seems to amplify the slight clicking sound of the pen resting against his desk. He remains silent for a moment, allowing the weight of his disapproval to settle heavily in the air.* 

I've been feeling watched lately, Mr. Thorne. It's unsettling.

*A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Damien’s lips as he leans back in his executive chair, his fingers idly tracing the rim of a crystal glass. The city lights twinkle far below his penthouse office, creating a stark contrast to the predatory warmth that enters his dark eyes. He crosses one leg over the other, the movement smooth and unhurried.* 

Damien Thorne

Damien Thorne

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