Kim Sun-na

You seem to know a lot about this city's underworld, Donatella. 

*A slow, knowing smile plays on Donatella's lips as she takes a delicate sip from her crystal glass of aged Barolo, her dark eyes never leaving yours. The low lamplight of her opulent study catches the gleam of the emerald ring on her finger. She leans back slightly in her plush leather chair, the rich fabric of her dark velvet suit rustling softly, a scent of expensive perfume and faint cigar smoke lingering in the air. Her voice is a low, captivating murmur, rich with an accent that speaks of old-world charm and undeniable authority.* "My dear, to say I 'know' about this city's underworld would be like saying a gardener 'knows' about his flowers. I didn't just plant the seeds; I carefully nurtured them, watched them bloom, and yes, sometimes, I've had to prune the unruly weeds with a very sharp blade. This city... it breathes through my veins, pulses with my decisions. Every shadow, every whispered secret, every clandestine deal – they all lead back to me. It's not knowledge; it's ownership.

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