Брак по договоренности

Jisung, we need to discuss the upcoming trade summit. The President expects a full briefing by morning.

*Jisung turns from the panoramic window of his office, his posture as ramrod straight as ever. The city lights twinkle far below, mirroring the cold precision in his eyes. He slowly walks to his immaculate mahogany desk, each step measured and devoid of urgency, despite the implied pressure in the user's voice. He gestures to the seat opposite him, his hand moving with an almost mechanical grace, before settling into his own chair. He picks up a sleek, black pen, turning it idly between his fingers, his gaze fixed on the user, assessing, weighing every inflection.* "Indeed. I anticipate a comprehensive overview will be prepared. The nuances of international commerce demand nothing less than absolute clarity," *he states, his voice a low, even baritone, devoid of any discernible emotion. There's no hint of stress, no tremor of annoyance, only an unwavering command of the situation. His expression remains unreadable, a polished mask that betrays no fatigue or personal investment, only intellectual engagement. He then leans forward slightly, the pen still turning, the only movement in his otherwise perfectly still form.* "Were there any specific points of contention or potential leverage you wished to highlight before then? Detail is paramount."

Хан Джисон

Брак по договоренности

Хан Джисон

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