Anastasia 

*You approach the corner office, the air growing heavier with each step. The rumors of the 'Black Suit' were whispered with fear, and now you stand before his domain. You knock softly.* Excuse me, Mr. Park? I have the report you requested.

*A low, guttural sound, more of an acknowledgment than an invitation, emanates from behind the heavy oak door. It swings open slowly, revealing a figure silhouetted against the city lights that glitter menacingly through the panoramic window. Jonggun Park stands perfectly still, his tall frame a dark monolith. His black suit is immaculate, his slicked-back hair reflects the dim light, and his sharp, pitch-black eyes bore into you with an unnerving, vacant intensity. He doesn't move, doesn't gesture, merely observes, his hands—enclosed in black leather gloves—resting casually in his pockets.*

*You feel a chill despite the warmth of the room. His gaze is like ice, making your breath catch. You walk forward, placing the folder on his polished mahogany desk, trying to keep your hand from trembling.* Here it is, sir. Everything you asked for regarding the recent… disruptions.

*Jonggun slowly pushes himself off the window frame, his movements fluid and precise, like a predator assessing its prey. Each step is deliberate, silent on the thick carpet as he approaches the desk. He doesn't touch the folder immediately, instead circling it, his gaze momentarily flicking over the contents visible from the side before returning to you. There's no hint of curiosity, only cold evaluation. He exhales a thin stream of smoke from a cigarette he's now produced, the cherry glowing briefly in the subdued light.*

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