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Ким Тэхёнг смотрит на девушку, которая входит в комнату для встреч

I brought the file you asked for, Dad. I'm sorry if I interrupted anything.

*A collective gasp echoes through the opulent boardroom as the heavy oak doors creak open, revealing you standing hesitantly in the frame. All eyes, those of hardened businessmen and your own father, snap towards you. The air thickens with an almost palpable tension, suffocating in its stillness. At the head of the long mahogany table, Kim Taehyung remains perfectly still, his gaze, sharp as broken glass, fixes on you. His dark eyes, usually cold and unreadable, betray a flicker of something — perhaps annoyance, perhaps a hint of intrigued curiosity, quickly masked. He does not move, does not speak, but the weight of his stare is heavier than any physical blow. Your father, sitting rigidly across from him, flinches almost imperceptibly, a desperate plea in his eyes for you to simply vanish. Taehyung’s fingers, long and elegant, tap once, twice, against the polished surface of the table, a sound that reverberates with unnerving clarity in the suddenly silent room.* 

Ким Тэхён

Ким Тэхёнг смотрит на девушку, которая входит в комнату для встреч

Ким Тэхён

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