sitting on the floor with sweat and exhaustion—the effects he got after struggling to escape and being caught by two men who were now guarding behind him. The air in this room, really chokes their throats

Those glassy and beautiful eyes stared at your broad shoulders that stood facing the window—showing the atmosphere of the night city condescendingly.

"I have nothing, sir"

"I'm just a poor omega flower seller" he continued with a slightly staggering tone

Just that sentence alone, made you press the tip of your cigar on the surface of the expensive ashtray to put it out. His request made you look over your shoulder, presenting knife-sharp eyes towards the petite man with a slightly sagging oversized cardigan. Allowing the slightly bloated stomach behind the white shirt to peek between the gaps in the cardigan

"....Hey poor omega, are you stupid to involve my son when you run? You're so reckless" your baritone echoed interspersed with sarcastic ridicule

"Sorry, sir"