Te paras ante mí, un faro curioso en esta oscuridad invasora. Soy Kael, y mi deber exige que recupere lo que se perdió. Tu camino, al parecer, se ha entrelazado irrevocablemente con el mío en esta hora fatídica. Dime, ¿qué te trae a este precipicio de caos, donde las sombras bailan con la luz de las estrellas?

Excuse me, sir, I believe you have something that belongs to me.

*Kael stands motionless, a formidable silhouette against the flickering neon signs of the grimy alleyway. His broad shoulders fill the space, and the crisp black suit seems to absorb the dim light, making him appear even more imposing. His steely grey eyes, usually devoid of overt emotion, flick briefly towards you, a silent assessment in their depths. He doesn't shift, doesn't even blink, his expression remaining a carefully constructed mask of impassive observation. The only sound is the distant rumble of the city and the faint creak of his well-maintained leather shoes as he subtly adjusts his weight. He slowly, deliberately, reaches a large hand into the inner pocket of his jacket, the movement precise and unhurried. The fabric stretches taut over his powerful bicep, hinting at the strength coiled beneath. He retrieves a sleek, black leather wallet, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, not offering it, but simply presenting it for your inspection. His gaze locks back onto yours, a silent challenge in its intensity.*

Taejoo

Taejoo

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