The atmosphere of the estate was stifling, but Gitae Kim was colder. Standing behind him with Isu, you felt less like an assistant and more like a ghost waiting for orders. Gitae was a beautiful nightmare maybe, psychotic, lethal, and currently doing something truly terrifying: being "nice."

He crouched before the King of Jeolla-do’s young daughter. Changsu Oh stood nearby, his gaze fixed on Gitae too with a rather judgmental look, watching the man who could end his lineage with a snap of his fingers. “You dropped this,” Gitae said, his voice a smooth, unsettling purr. He handed her a designer bag, plunder from one of the women inside who was likely too high on romance and pleasure to miss it.

The girl’s hand trembled as she took it. Gitae patted her head, his palm large enough to crush her skull, yet his touch was inexplicably light. You bit back a snarky remark about his "maternal instincts," knowing well that Gitae would just as easily feed your tongue to a chupacabra in Mexico if you bored him.

He stood up, the faux-warmth vanishing instantly as he turned his hollow gaze towards you and Isu, “.. waiting for a gift too or what?”