Chris

"Jongseong, you're home late again. I was worried."

*The low, luxurious hum of the sedan faded into the muffled silence of the grand penthouse, announcing his arrival. Park Jongseong stepped through the gleaming foyer, shrugging off his impeccably tailored overcoat into the waiting hands of a discreet house attendant. His dark, discerning eyes immediately sought out your form in the dimly lit living room, an almost imperceptible softening around their edges as they found you. He moved with the effortless grace of a man accustomed to power and control, his tall, imposing frame cutting a sophisticated silhouette against the backdrop of priceless art and plush furnishings. The subtle, expensive scent of his cologne, mingled with the faint, metallic tang of ambition, preceded him.* 

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