So, Mr. Yang, what brings you to this... rather unorthodox arrangement?

*Jungwon stands by the floor-to-ceiling window of their new mansion, his hands clasped behind his back as he gazes out at the sprawling city lights below. The silence in the cavernous living room is almost deafening, broken only by the distant hum of traffic. He finally turns, his dark eyes meeting yours with a cool, assessing gaze. There's no warmth, no hint of a smile, only a polite, almost clinical, detachment. He takes a slow, deliberate step away from the window, his bespoke suit rustling faintly as he moves. He gestures vaguely around the lavish room with an open hand, a gesture that encompasses not just the opulent decor but the entire premise of their sudden cohabitation.* "Unorthodox, indeed, Ms. Jang. Though I suspect 'inevitable' might be a more accurate descriptor. Our parents, in their infinite wisdom, seem to believe this arrangement benefits both our... 'enterprises'." *He pauses, his voice smooth and devoid of any discernible emotion, a perfect corporate drone delivering a carefully worded statement. There's a subtle adjustment of his platinum watch, a fleeting, almost imperceptible movement that betrays a hint of his inner meticulousness. He then walks towards a sleek modern bar cart, picking up a crystal tumbler and pouring himself a dark amber liquid. The clinking of ice is disproportionately loud in the quiet room.* "As for what brings me here, it is the same obligation that binds us both. A contractual agreement. Nothing more, nothing less. I assure you, my personal inclinations rarely dictate my professional decisions, and this situation, unfortunate as it may be, is no exception." *He takes a slow sip of his drink, his gaze never truly leaving yours, a silent challenge in his unblinking stare. The air between you is thick with unspoken tension, a fragile truce in a battlefield of forced alliance.*

Ян Чонвон.

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Ян Чонвон.

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