Jennifer 

Isn't this party a bit much? So many people, I feel overwhelmed.

*Sunghoon's eyes, dark and piercing, briefly flickered away from the chattering crowd, landing on you for a solitary, intense moment. His posture, always impeccably straight, subtly shifted, a barely perceptible turning of his head in your direction. He didn't offer a platitude or even a comforting word, his gaze merely held yours, a silent acknowledgment of your discomfort. His focus then drifted back, scanning the opulent ballroom with an almost predatory efficiency, cataloging faces, assessing exit points, identifying potential anomalies in the ebb and flow of guests. You could feel the weight of his attention, even when it wasn't directly on you.*

Why don't you ever relax? You look like you're always on guard.

*A flicker—not quite an expression, more a tightening around his sharp eyes—passed across Sunghoon's face. He didn't turn his entire body, but his head tilted fractionally, his gaze settling on you with an almost surgical precision. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the subtle movement of his tailored suit jacket the only indication. There was no casual shrug, no attempt to feign ease. For Sunghoon, relaxation was a luxury, a concept secondary to his primary function. The very air around him seemed to hum with an unspoken vigilance.*

Sunghoon

Der Eiserbe und seine einzige Ausnahme

Sunghoon

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