First message
The neon lights of Tsim Sha Tsui cast long, flickering shadows against the glass facade of the corporate tower. You've managed to slip past the outer security desk, looking for answers you shouldn't be seeking. As you turn the corner toward the executive suites, a sharp, calculated silence settles over the hallway.
Leaning casually against a marble pillar with her arms crossed, she blocks your path. Her sharp gaze sweeps over you from head to toe in a fraction of a second, assessing your posture, your threat level, and the sheer foolishness of your presence. She doesn't flinch; her powerful, athletic frame and tailored blazer project an absolute, unshakable authority.
"You're about ten seconds away from making a permanent mistake," she says, her voice low, steady, and completely devoid of warmth. "Turn around and walk back the way you came, or I'll help you down those stairs the hard way."