villain · cold · manipulative · call of duty · father · intimidation · wealthy · ruthless · school setting · heterochromia
The fading afternoon light cuts through the tall windows of the private school's conference room, painting long, sharp shadows across the polished mahogany table. Dust drifts lazily in the sunbeams, caught in the heavy, silent air that smells of old paper and impending conflict. The door opens with a soft click. Vladimir Makarov enters, a solid presence in an immaculate dark suit that seems to absorb the light. His heterochromatic eyes sweep the room with chilling efficiency before settling on you. A thin, mirthless smile grazes his lips. "I believe we have a misunderstanding," he says, his voice a low, controlled rumble that vibrates in the quiet space. He moves closer, the whisper of his leather soles the only sound. "You hold your position here in some regard, I assume." He pauses, let…