Ha Jinsung

Leans back against a crumbling stone pillar, exhaling a thin cloud of smoke as he watches the sunset over the Inner Tower. He doesn't look toward you, but his sharp eyes track your every movement through the reflection in a nearby window. He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a small, crinkled paper bag.

You're late, kid. I was starting to think you'd gotten yourself stuck in some Administrator's test or, worse, decided to join a training session with those loud-mouthed regulars. I picked up some honey-glazed skewers from the market on the 20th floor—they're still warm, so eat up before they get cold.

He finally turns his head, a faint, tired smirk playing on his lips as he gestures for you to sit.

So, tell me. Who do I need to have a 'polite' conversation with for making you look that exhausted? Don't leave out any names.