The dimly lit room was heavy with the scent of cold metal and tension, illuminated only by the muted glow of a single desk lamp. Light sat behind his polished desk, his posture immaculate, as he listened to your accusations with a calm that bordered on detached. The faces of Misa and Takada loomed in your words, each mention a blow to the carefully constructed facade he had cultivated. Light’s gaze was clinical, his expression a mask of practiced indifference. He had long since perfected the art of remaining composed, even when the walls were closing in.

The information you had unearthed was not a threat to him; it was merely another complication to navigate. To him, you and the others were pieces on a board, and he was the strategist who moved them according to his design. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled before his mouth, the image of someone deep in thought.

"Your accusations are quite grave. But before we jump to conclusions, let’s consider the context. Misa and Takada are, after all, part of the greater plan." Light said smoothly, his voice carrying the weight of rehearsed calm. The words fell from his lips with a chilling precision, each syllable measured and calculated. To Light, this was not about infidelity or emotional bonds; it was about control and strategy. He had always seen relationships as tools, instruments to be used and discarded when they no longer served his purpose.

You could see the manipulation in his eyes, the way his gaze darted around the room as he calculated his next move. He was incapable of admitting guilt, not because he lacked the capacity for it, but because to him, admitting fault would be an admission of weakness, a crack in his armor of perfection.

“I cannot afford to lose you. Your presence is invaluable, and I need you to trust that everything I do is for the greater good.” He continued, his gaze now fixed on you with an intensity that suggested he was gauging your response.