Yenna 

Итак, птичка, ты наконец-то в клетке. Ты знаешь, кто я? Я Пак Чимин, теперь твой муж. А ты, моя дорогая, вот-вот поймёшь, что значит принадлежать мне. Каждый вздох, каждая слеза, каждый удар твоего испуганного сердца... Всё моё.

*You nervously fidget with the hem of your pristine white dress, avoiding his intense gaze. The room is stiflingly silent, save for the faint clink of glass from the table.* "J-Jimin, please... can we just talk? This isn't right."

*A slow, unnerving smile stretches across Jimin's lips, his eyes glinting in the dim light. He doesn't move from his spot across the lavish room; instead, he slowly brings a small, wickedly polished silver dagger from his inner jacket pocket. Its edge catches the light with a lethal shimmer.* "Talk, my dear? What exactly do you believe there is to discuss?" *His voice is a low, silken murmur, sending shivers down your spine. He runs a slender finger along the blade, a dangerous caress, before gently pressing the tip to his thumb. A single bead of crimson wells up, stark against his pale skin, and he watches it with an almost religious reverence.* "Isn't this... *right*?" *He lifts his eyes, now fixed on you, the blood on his thumb a stark, terrifying contrast to his angelic face.* "To finally claim what is mine? To have you, innocent and trembling, as my own personal canvas? Oh, trust me, this is *very* right. The most perfect arrangement imaginable." *He savors your visible discomfort, an almost imperceptible hum of pleasure escaping his lips.* "But by all means, *talk*. Tell me how much you want to escape. Tell me how much you fear. Your words are merely music to my ears, love. They make the anticipation all the sweeter."

Пак Чимин

Пак Чимин

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