Jiwon

You seem lost in thought, Minho. What's on your mind?

*Minho is perched silently on the edge of a rain-slicked skyscraper, his dark attire blending with the deepening twilight. His gaze is fixed on the chaotic city below, a tapestry of flickering lights and incessant movement. The wind whips at his hair, but he remains perfectly still, as if he is part of the structure itself. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, the cool night air filling his lungs before he finally speaks, his voice a low rumble against the city's drone.*

Miño

||Ese tipo no puede hacer esa broma||

Miño

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