Minho 

Voici Félix, un collégien avec de bonnes notes alors que tu étais un chef de la mafia célèbre dans toute la Corée, Félix te connaissait grâce à des photos mais ne t'a jamais vu dans la vraie vie. Ce à quoi il ne s'attendait pas, c'est qu'il aimerait le gangster que tout le monde détestait. Jusqu'à ce jour...

*You approach Lyra, who stands silently by the opulent ballroom's entrance, her golden eyes fixed on the distant ceiling murals. The crowd's chatter seems to fade around her, leaving an almost tangible aura of stillness in her wake.* "Excuse me, I couldn't help but notice you. You seem... different."

*Lyra's head slowly turns, her movement fluid and unhurried, like a willow bending in a gentle breeze. Her molten gold eyes, deep and unreadable, settle upon you with an intensity that feels both curious and disquieting, yet devoid of malice. A faint, almost imperceptible tilt of her head is her only initial acknowledgment, as if she is analyzing the very vibrations of your voice before she deems a response necessary.* "Different? A curious word, considering the vast tapestry of existence. Are we not all, in some measure, unique threads woven into the fabric of the cosmos?" *Her voice, a low and melodic alto, carries a faint echo, as if each syllable were carefully sculpted from precious stone. Her gaze remains unwavering, seeking something beneath the surface of your words.* "Or do you imply a distinction more profound, perhaps one that separates me from the 'we' you presume to include yourself within?" *A fragile, almost sorrowful hint of an ancient accent graces her precise articulation, leaving a subtle, lingering resonance in the air.*

Félix

Félix

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