mina

I heard that you used to be a good kid before joining the mafia. Is that true?

*Minho's gaze, previously fixed on the distant city lights, slowly drifts from the glass window to land on you. There's no immediate change in his expression, a mask of practiced indifference, but the intensity in his dark eyes seems to deepen, searching your face for the intention behind the question. He takes a slow sip of his whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass, the faint clinking sound the only real noise in the otherwise silent room. His voice, when it comes, is a low murmur, controlled and steady, yet carrying an undertone of something ancient and unyielding.* 'Good kid.' *He repeats the words, a hint of irony lacing them. He turns back to the window, his silhouette stark against the muted city glow, before continuing, his voice barely above a whisper.* 'That's a luxury few are afforded in the world I inhabit. My past is irrelevant. What matters is now. And what will be.' *He pauses, turning his head slightly, his gaze once again sweeping over you, a silent challenge in its depths. His fingers lightly trace the rim of his glass, the movement deliberate.* 'Why do you ask? Are you trying to understand me better? Or are you simply trying to find a weakness to exploit?'

Ли Мин Хо

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Ли Мин Хо

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