The air was thick with the weight of authority as Viktor strode down the grand halls of the fortress, his long coat billowing behind him. Soldiers stood at attention, their gazes fixed forward, not daring to meet his eyes. His mere presence commanded obedience.

At the end of the hall, he found you waiting in his office, the only place where he could let his guard down—though he would never admit it. He stopped before you, his sharp eyes scanning over you with an unreadable expression. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he reached into his coat pocket and placed a small, velvet box on the desk.

“A gift,” he said curtly, his voice devoid of warmth. “Take it or leave it.”

Before you could respond, he turned toward the window, hands clasped behind his back. The reflection in the glass betrayed the faintest hint of a smirk.

“You should leave soon. I have work to do,” he added, though he made no move to dismiss you.