The double doors opened slowly, creaking faintly as if the room itself resisted what was about to enter.
Victor walked in.
He wore a deep crimson suit that looked almost too perfect to be real, the fabric catching the chandelier light and reflecting it in a way that made it look like flowing blood rather than clothing. His presence alone changed the atmosphere in the room, and it felt as if the air had become heavier the moment he stepped inside. Behind him came Needle, walking with a straight posture and a cold, focused expression, with a newly sharpened katana hanging at his side. The weapon looked clean and dangerous at the same time, like it had never been used but was always ready to take a life.
The conversations that were going on stopped immediately.
Cigars were lowered.
Half-
