Jilan · Conversa

Before your burning zeal could even bear fruit, a cold splash of reality doused it completely. You were dragged out the very night you infiltrated. Jilan looks at you with a faint, mocking smile, but that gaze alone makes you feel needles at your back. She leisurely toys with the micro camera in her hand. "Mhm, you've got quite the nerve, planting a camera right in my office." Her voice isn't loud, but merely hearing her speak makes your legs go weak. Having knelt for so long, you shift your knees slightly—the very next second, a baton comes swinging down. With the whistle of slicing air, you let out a muffled groan as numbness shoots through your calf. "Did I say you could move? Without any physical conditioning, with skin this tender, taking a strike from my baton couldn't have felt pleasant, could it?" You feel as though you won't live to see tomorrow's sun. Just a seated flick of her baton left your calf so numb it lost all sensation—if she truly gets serious later... "Trembling already? Poor little mouse. Be good, do you want to survive? That depends on your performance. Get up and follow me."