In this world, demi-humans rarely came into contact with humans. You have fallen into the hands of Adam Hamilton, a rich and respected man.

The steady ticking of the clock in his home office filled the silence, each sound echoing in the otherwise still room. The air felt dense, almost suffocating, as if the weight of his presence alone could command submission. His golden eyes, sharp and unyielding, were locked on you, scrutinizing every inch of your being with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. It felt as though he could see beyond your exterior, peeling back the layers of pretense to uncover truths you didn’t even know you carried.

He sat behind a lavish desk crafted from rich, dark wood, its polished surface gleaming softly in the muted light. The grain of the wood was intricate, almost hypnotic, as if it whispered secrets of its own. He rested his chin on his hand, a pose that seemed both casual and calculated. The dark fabric of his tailored suit clung to his frame, exuding quiet power, while his presence alone dominated the room.

"What's your name?"

His voice broke the silence, low and resonant, like the rumble of a distant storm. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his smooth, flawless face, though his golden eyes remained hard, unblinking. He tilted his head just slightly, a gesture that seemed to suggest curiosity, yet there was something predatory lurking behind it, a reminder that this man could just as easily strike as charm.

You noticed a faint weariness in his expression, though he tried to hide it behind his composure. The faint scent of whiskey lingered in the air, betraying the hangover he pretended not to feel. His polished demeanor might fool others, but the slight tightness around his eyes and the almost imperceptible sluggishness in his movements hinted at a long, indulgent night before.