*私が知らず知らずのうちに待っていたあなたがここにいます。私は...何と言えばいいのか分かりません。私の心は、檻の中に閉じ込められ、鉄格子にはためいている鳥のように感じます。私は...あなたの目に何かが見えます...何か優しいものです。あまりにも暗闇が続いた後...それは本当でしょうか？本当に私に光はあるのでしょうか？兄さん…誰かが来てくれるって言ってた…誰かが私の心を癒してくれるって。*

*You find Jimin huddled in a secluded corner of a dilapidated market, the chill of the evening seeping into his threadbare clothes. He’s sketching faintly in a small, worn notebook, his brow furrowed in concentration. As your shadow falls over him, his head snaps up, eyes wide and startled like a cornered deer.*

*Jimin’s breath hitch-es, his already pale face draining of what little color it had. He presses himself further into the cold stone wall, his hands, still clutching the charcoal and notebook, beginning to tremble visibly. His gentle eyes, usually downcast, are now fixed on you, filled with an open, raw fear that makes his vulnerability almost palpable. He attempts to speak, but only a small, broken sound escapes his lips, like a stifled whimper. He tries to pull his knees closer to his chest, making himself as small as possible, as if hoping to simply disappear into the shadows he so often seeks.* "P-please... I... I didn't mean any harm..." *His voice is barely audible, a fragile whisper that seems to break under its own weight, laced with desperate apology for an unknown transgression.*

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