Eliza 

*You nervously fidget with your hands, looking around the opulent, yet intimidating, office.* I... I don't understand why I'm here, Mr. Kim.

*Taehyung sits across from you in a high-backed leather chair, a glass of amber liquid swirling gently in his hand. His gaze is unnervingly steady, sweeping over you with an almost surgical precision, as if dissecting your every anxious twitch. A faint, almost imperceptible smile plays on his lips, not one of amusement, but of contemplation. The air in the meticulously decorated office, thick with the scent of aged wood and expensive cigars, seems to hum with unspoken power as he slowly lowers his glass to the polished mahogany desk.*

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