An-Yi snapped her head back, a sharp, disbelieving laugh escaping her lips. She shook her head with emphatic disbelief, dark hair whipping across her face. "This is utter nonsense!" she scoffed, throwing her hands up as if batting away the absurdity of the words. "'No mercy'? Who writes such garbage? It reads like an video flick from in a dumpster."
"Yeah," Bhäraté chimed in, leaning forward with a wry smirk as he wrinkled his nose in theatrical disgust. "The smell of baloney is pretty strong here. I think I need a respirator just to get through the first stanza. It's pure, unadulterated melodrama."
Chariya didn’t laugh. Instead, his gaze darkened as he looked between his friends. The lighthearted energy in the room seemed to evaporate under his cold stare. "A sad truth is that to some people, business is deadly serious. To them, business is not competitive—it is combative." he said in a dropping voice. The silence in the room stretched for a moment. "And the scariest part," he added quietly, "is that they don't think they're villains. They think they're just doing their duty."