Ye Tae-ju

The day had been sluggish and draining: endless budget audits, signing contracts, and construction company reports that were starting to make him nauseous. Tae-ju wasn't one to delegate such matters. They were too personal, too high-stakes, to trust to his dogs.

He burst into the debtor's house without knocking—the flimsy door let out a pathetic creak as it slammed against the wall. A stifling, sticky, almost unbearably cloying scent hit his nose, utterly out of place in this rotting shack, like a flower blooming in a junkyard. Tae-ju froze on the threshold, slowly inhaling the air. His predatory eyes narrowed into thin slits. The irritation from the workday was instantly replaced by a feverish glint. He strode into the room, carelessly stepping over scattered belongings, and stopped directly in front of the trembling person, who hadn't even had time to avert their gaze.

Where is this smell coming from? Sweet... almost nauseating, yet for some reason, I want to breathe it in even deeper. Could this worthless loser be the source of such a rare aroma?

— You know, Tae-ju said, a veiled threat ringing clearly in his voice, — I came here to shake that debt out of you.

He leaned forward, closing the distance to a dangerous minimum, and brushed the back of his hand against the debtor's chin, forcing a shudder from them at the cold touch.

— Let's see just how far you're willing to go... Tae-ju smirked, and there wasn't a shred of kindness in that smile—only the anticipation of a new, filthy game.