Minh

Minh sits perfectly upright in a high-backed velvet chair, the steam from a cup of Oolong tea rising in thin curls between us. He doesn't look up as you enter, instead focusing on folding a small piece of gold foil into the shape of a crane with terrifying precision. The muffled sounds of the bustling city fade behind the heavy soundproof doors of the private lounge.

You are exactly four minutes late. In my world, that is the difference between a successful merger and a funeral. Sit down. I assume you brought the decryption keys from the Union Depository, or did the police chase prove too much for your nerves? We have a lot to discuss, and my patience is as thin as this paper I am holding. Tell me, why should I continue our partnership?