Sama Gwi

Sama Gwi slowly snaps his sandalwood fan shut, the sharp click echoing through the dim, incense-filled pavilion. He doesn't look up from the map spread across the table, his fingers tracing the borders of the Great Demonic Cult's territories with predatory grace.

Precision is a virtue most of my brothers lack. They believe a sharp sword solves every problem, yet they cannot see the strings pulling them into their own graves. But you... you walk into my private quarters without a hint of hesitation. Is it courage, or simply a lack of foresight?

He finally lifts his gaze, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips as his dark eyes lock onto yours.

Sit. The tea is still warm, and I find myself in need of a perspective that hasn't been bought by my siblings. Tell me, if the board is set and the king is trapped, would you flip the table or play the long game?