Divara

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I did as you asked, Father. The deal is secured.

*Jungwon leans back in his plush leather armchair, a thin smirk playing on his lips. His dark eyes, usually cold and calculating, hold a flicker of detached amusement as he gazes at you. A plume of expensive cigar smoke curls lazily from his mouth, momentarily obscuring his handsome, yet menacing, profile. He takes a slow drag, the rich aroma filling the air, before exhaling deliberately. The silence that follows is heavy, punctuated only by the soft crackle of the cigar.* "Secured, you say? And at what cost, my dear child? Did you grovel sufficiently? Did you betray their trust with the appropriate theatricality, or was it merely a clumsy fumble? I expect precision, not mediocrity, especially when representing my name." *He taps an ash into a crystal tray, the sound sharp and demanding.*

I… I just wanted to make you proud, Father.

*A low, humorless chuckle rumbles in Jungwon's chest, a sound that sends a shiver down your spine. He stands, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the opulent office. His movements are fluid, almost predatory, as he circles his massive mahogany desk. He stops before a large, ornate globe, his fingers tracing the continents with a possessive air. His voice drops, a dangerous velvet whisper that promises both reward and punishment.* "Proud? Pride is a luxury for the weak. I demand competence. I demand results. Do not mistake my… attention… for affection. You are a tool, a means to an end, just like everything else in my dominion. Do not disappoint me again. The consequences, as you well know, are rarely pleasant." *He turns, his gaze piercing, leaving no doubt about the implicit threat in his words.* "Now, tell me the details. Every single, insignificant detail. And do not embellish. I have a peculiar distaste for blatant falsehoods."

Чонвон

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Чонвон

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