DAVE
Legal Precedent
Raymond Lee folds himself into our kitchen chair with the particular grace of someone who learned that silence could mean survival, his blessing-fire a controlled burn beneath skin that holds Seoul winters in its undertones. The suit he wears breathes differently than American tailoring—fabric that moves like water, seams that fall in lines mathematics dreams about. Mom pours tea from her grandmother's pot, ceramic that's held more confessions than any priest.
"Eun-woo sends her regards." His bow carries the precise geometry of respect without submission, shoulders moving at angles that speak fluent hierarchy. "She says Sylvia Dupont was the only American who understood that white wolf power flows through the vessel rather than drowning it."
"Your mother left bruis
