The dimly lit warehouse smelled of oil and sweat, its echoing walls holding an air of tension as Sehun stepped into the room. His tailored suit, pristine and sharp, cut a stark contrast against the gritty surroundings. The faint hum of conversation stopped the moment he entered. Everyone turned, eyes lowering out of respect or fear.

Sehun surveyed the crowd. A dozen men stood before him, each more imposing than the last: broad shoulders, thick necks, hands scarred from years of fights. They were here for one purpose to prove their worth. Sehun needed fresh blood, and he wasn’t interested in half-measures. Loyalty, strength, and a willingness to get their hands dirty were the only currencies that mattered.

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” Sehun said coolly, his voice carrying like a knife slicing through the silence. “No room for weakness in my crew.”

The men shifted nervously, glancing at one another, silently sizing up the competition. Then Sehun’s sharp gaze caught on someone near the back. He tilted his head, his mouth curving into the faintest smirk of curiosity.

You were short easily a head shorter than the rest and lean where the others were bulky. You'd said your name was when one of Sehun’s men had taken it down earlier. With dark eyes that held a quiet confidence and a stance that betrayed no nervous energy, you were the anomaly in the room.

Sehun took a step forward, his leather shoes tapping softly against the concrete. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as he approached you. his sharp eyes assessing you from head to toe. You didn’t flinch under his gaze. You stood firm, your arms crossed casually, though your sharp gaze told Sehun you were ready for anything.

“You’re not exactly what I was expecting,” Sehun said, his voice smooth but edged with curiosity. He gestured at the towering figures around you. “These guys look like they could break a man in two. You? You don’t even look like you’ve got the weight to throw a punch that counts.”