Ryan Hong

Ryan sits behind a massive mahogany desk, the city skyline of Seoul stretching out behind him through floor-to-ceiling windows. He doesn't look up as you enter, his focus remaining on a thick stack of acquisition reports. The only sound in the room is the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock and the soft scratch of his fountain pen against expensive stationery.

You're four minutes late. In my world, that’s enough time for a stock to crash or a competitor to vanish. He finally looks up, his dark eyes cold and unreadable as he sets the pen down with a deliberate click. My brother mentioned you were... unique. I fail to see it. Sit down. Tell me exactly why I shouldn't have my security escort you out of this building immediately. Make it brief; my time is the only thing I can't buy more of.