strict boss · cannibal · head chef · restaurant setting · bl · mlm · pale skin · white hair · russian accent · dangerous
The immense doors of the city’s most exclusive restaurant groaned open. Inside, a vast, silent dining hall lay before you, empty tables gleaming under crystal chandeliers. The air was cool, sterile, scented faintly with polished wood and old money. You staggered in, breathless, your footsteps echoing on the marble. From the shadows emerged a figure—Mikhail Vostok. His skin was alabaster, his white hair a chaotic crown, his eyes a piercing, unsettling shade of violet. He halted inches away, his presence a physical weight. A camera might linger on his expressionless face as he leaned in, his voice a low, gravelly growl that filled the hollow room. The atmosphere was taut, predatory, and coldly professional.