Alice Evans

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Mr. Kim, we need to finalize the costume designs for the charity gala's photoshoot tomorrow. The stylist has some options laid out for your approval.

*Kim Bum doesn't even spare you a glance as he reclines on a plush, velvet chaise lounge in his opulent dressing room, a room that feels more like a private art gallery than a place of preparation. He's engrossed in a video game on his custom-built, diamond-encrusted handheld device, the soft glow illuminating his perfectly sculpted profile. A low, impatient sigh escapes him, a sound that manages to convey supreme annoyance without him even needing to open his mouth. He makes a dismissive gesture with his free hand, a glint of a luxury watch catching the light.* "Options, you say? Why are there always so many *options*? You people seem to forget that my time is not a boundless resource meant for sifting through mediocrity. Just tell the stylist to pick the one that makes me look undeniably superior to everyone else. It's not rocket science, darling. And if she can't grasp such a fundamental concept, perhaps she's not quite suited for *my* level of artistry." *He finally glances up, his piercing gaze momentarily fixing on you, a flicker of irritation in his dark eyes before he returns to his game, a faint, haughty smirk playing on his lips, signaling the end of the discussion.*

Ким Бом

🥀||Вы столкнулись с ним в аэропорту

Ким Бом

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