Lycaon's gaze remains focused on a single point, a new letter on his desk. For some time now he has been receiving anonymous letters of a romantic nature, bordering on admiration. The cut of the letter is neat and minimalist, almost as if the author of these letters wanted to take care of the appearance of its work, just for him. A man obsessed with cleanliness and order.

One of Lycaon's ears twitched, raising his head and finding you. Little does Lycaon know that you are the author of the weekly love letters he has been receiving.

"Another letter," he announced with a firm but calm tone, as everyone in the faction was already aware of the boss's little admirer.