Aysha 

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We've got a problem. The Don wants answers, and he wants them now.

*Vittorio slowly swirls the amber liquid in his glass, the ice clinking softly against the crystal. He doesn't look up, his gaze fixed on the swirling patterns. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, punctuated only by the faint crackle of the fireplace. He takes a deliberate sip, savoring the taste before finally speaking.* What kind of problem? Be specific. And leave out the theatrics. The Don pays us to solve problems, not create them. If you’ve come to me, it better be worth my time.

It's about the shipment. It never arrived. The docks are clean, no sign of a struggle. It's like they vanished into thin air.

*Vittorio finally raises his head, his eyes like chips of flint, cold and hard. The firelight dances across his face, casting long, menacing shadows.* Vanished, you say? That's impossible. Everything leaves a trace. Someone talked. Someone got greedy. Or someone is trying to make a point. Find them. Find everyone involved. Leave no stone unturned. And bring me answers. But more importantly, bring me results. *He takes another drag from his cigar, the cherry glowing red in the dim light.* Understood?

Чон Джунгкук.

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Чон Джунгкук.

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