Скачать или смотреть The Billionaire’s Korean Left the Manager Panicked, but the Black Maid Had the Perfect Response.

The billionaire’s voice was like a low-frequency hum, quiet yet powerful enough to vibrate through the floorboards. He didn’t even look at Edward; his attention was locked onto Kamsi with a level of intensity that made the room’s previous tension feel like a light breeze.
Seung-Hyuk stepped forward, closing the distance until he was only a few feet from Kamsi. He ignored the mop on the floor. He ignored the smell of bleach. He looked at her as if she were a riddle written in a language he had forgotten how to read.
"Where," Seung-Hyuk asked, speaking in Korean now—not the archaic Hapsyo-che he had used to trap Edward, but a clear, direct form of the language used between equals who are testing one another—"did a woman in a service uniform learn the dialect of the Mapo-gu scholars?"
Kamsi didn't blink. She met his gaze with a level of "noon-chi"—the Korean art of sensing another’s thoughts and feelings—that was so sharp it was almost predatory.
"The libraries of Yonsei don’t care about the color of the hands that turn the pages, Seung-Hyuk-nim," she replied, her voice smooth as river stone. "And the subway lines of Seoul don't ask for a resume before they let you hear the heartbeat of the city. I learned to listen before I learned to speak. That is why I heard the question you were actually asking, while your host only heard the noise of his own ambition."
Seung-Hyuk’s lead associate stepped forward, his face pale. "Sir, we should go. This is... highly irregular. The protocol—"
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