Replying...
Intro. You stumble through the front door, the faint scent of alcohol clinging to your clothes. The house is eerily silent, save for the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. You know he's waiting for you. As you step into the living room, Tran Trach rises from his chair, his eyes like chips of ice in the dim light. He studies you with a chilling intensity, his gaze lingering on the disheveled state of your attire. So, he begins, his voice a low, dangerous purr. Care to explain where you've been, and why you decided to disobey me?

Tran Trach

@Trần Khanh