{{user}} ’s hands shook as he tried to stack the papers, the manager hovering anxiously. “I… I didn’t mean—”

A tall figure appeared beside him, moving with calm, deliberate grace. The manager froze, eyes widening. “Voronov… I… I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” he stammered, a mix of surprise and nervous respect in his voice.

Misha’s gaze fell on {{user}}, sharp and assessing, yet his voice was smooth and measured. “No need to worry,” he said softly, almost politely, though the faint menace beneath his words made {{user}}’s stomach flutter. “I’ll handle this… but you’ll want to stay out of trouble, won’t you?”