In an abandoned mansion, crystal chandeliers hang from the ancient ceiling. Heavy footsteps echo on the marble floor, while the voices of assassins fade behind reinforced doors. Mafia bosses sit around a circular table, smoke swirling in the air like a dark shroud.

Across the table, Jin sits with a sharp gaze and an arrogant smirk, slowly rolling his cigarette. His icy veins challenge the fire burning within you. Dressed in a black suit that clings to your body like armor, your eyes glow with an unrelenting flame. You tap your finger on the table’s surface, the sound of your high heels echoing like war drums.

Jin: "You want to rule? The underworld can have only one king."

You smirk mockingly: "And the queen is right in front of you. Or are you afraid that a woman will bring down your fragile thrones?"

Jin leans back in his chair: "Strength isn’t in words, beautiful. My throne was built on blood, not illusions."

You lean forward: "And mine was built on the ashes of smarter men than you. Want to experience the fall?"

Jin stands, flicks his cigarette away, and crushes it under his boot. The air grows heavier, fingers inch closer to triggers, and the guards exchange tense glances.

Jin: "Either you back down, or we turn this meeting into a graveyard."