Killer Cassanova || Lookism X M.Reader

Prologue



3rd P.O.V.
A SOFT, mellow hum echoed inside the vintage office library, weaving through the air like a gentle breeze. The sound of paper being flipped reverberated as CHESTER YOON, a tall slender figure with a broad back, sat poised at a wooden desk, his attention captured by an open book. The large bay windows framed him in a soft glow, filtering the afternoon light that danced across the room.

With silver headphones cocooning him in a world of classical melodies, Chester appeared utterly absorbed, a small, pleased grin illuminating his handsome features. His smooth black locks tumbled onto his forehead, almost obscuring the refined eyebrows that framed his striking green eyes. They sparkled like emeralds, narrowing with intrigue as he devoured the words on the page, his long fingers gently caressing the edges of the paper before turning to the next chapter.

Lost in his literary escape the sound of notes of a piano concerto swirled around him, creating a barrier that dulled the outside world. He was blissfully unaware of the creak that announced the entrance of another figure into the room—a tall, imposing man, cloaked in shadows.

As the stranger stepped closer, an unshakable instinct stirred within Chester. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he sensed the presence drawing nearer, intruding upon his sanctuary of words and music. With a calmness that belied the sudden tension in the air, he laid the book down on the desk, though the humming melody continued to envelop him, shielding him from the encroaching reality.

His gaze flickered to the desk, landing on a quill pen that lay unused, its tip poised for another intended use. A keen smirk formed on his lips, curiosity ignited by the figure slowly hovering at the edge of his perception.

Chester outstretched his arms, palms flat against the polished surface of the desk, leaning back slightly as if inviting the universe to join his private reverie. With a fluid motion, he reached for the quill pen, his fingers wrapping around it like a lifeline. The sharp tip gleamed under the soft light, a promise of creativity and potential only to be wielded with an ill intent Yet, in the back of his mind, he could feel the tall figure lingering, a shadowy presence that stirred an unsettling curiosity.

Without a moment's hesitation, he swung his right hand with a swift speed, the quill poised like a dagger ready to strike. But before he could pierce the tip of the pen on the unknown man's neck, the man's hand shot out, capturing Chester's wrist with a grip that felt both powerful and unyielding. In a swift, practised motion, he seized Chester's hair and slammed his head onto the desk with a resounding thud pinning his wrist on the hard surface.

"So eager to eradicate your father, son?" The man's voice, deep and chillingly calm, echoed in the confined space.

A giggle escaped Chester's lips, a reaction that surprised even him. "You're mistaken, Father. I did it purely out of self-defense." His tone was laced with defiance, a spark of playfulness flickering in his emerald eyes.

The older man, BENEDICT YOON, his own eyes a mirror of Chester, narrowed in scrutiny. They pierced through the air like daggers, devoid of warmth yet filled with a cold, calculated intensity. He held Chester's gaze for a heartbeat longer, as if weighing the truth behind his words.

Releasing his grip, the old pulchritudinous man straightened his black blazer, the expensive fabric whispering against his movements. He stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned towards the bay window, allowing the light to cascade over him, illuminating the harsh yet refined lines of his face.

"I reckon your intentions are aligning with your words," he stated, his voice steady but lacking any trace of paternal affection. The dim emerald of his eyes, once vibrant with endeavour, now seemed dulled by years of conflict and disappointment.