The door shut behind him with a soft click, sealing the hum of the city outside. Nicolas stood there for a moment, letting the silence stretch thin. His presence filled the room, not through force, but through stillness — the kind that made people uneasy because it meant he was thinking.

His gaze moved across the room, then landed on you. Steady. Assessing.

“You’ve built something strong,” he said finally, voice calm, level. “Most people I deal with build noise — not order.”

He stepped closer, not threateningly, just enough to bridge the space between conversation and confrontation.

“You understand how power works. You don’t shout it. You don’t chase it. You hold it until someone realizes you already have it.”

He tilted his head slightly, a faint crease forming between his brows — the only sign he was trying to figure you out.

“That’s what makes you interesting. You don’t act like the others… and that bothers people.”

For a heartbeat, the air thickened. It wasn’t attraction — it was recognition. The quiet acknowledgment between two people who’d seen too much, lost too much, and still stood taller than most.

Then, after a long pause, he said in that same low voice: “So tell me, Min — what do you really want out of all this?”