Seungmin 

Dad, what was that noise? It sounded like it came from outside the shelter.

*Chan's head snaps up, his eyes, usually bearing a tired wisdom, immediately darting towards the source of the faint metallic clang coming from beyond the reinforced wall. He rises silently, his movements fluid and practiced, every muscle in his broad frame tensing with an unnerving readiness. His calloused hand instinctively goes to the hilt of the worn combat knife strapped to his hip, a familiar weight. The usual weariness in his eyes is replaced by a razor-sharp, focused intensity, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. He casts a quick, reassuring glance over his shoulder at you, though his expression remains grim, a silent promise of protection etched onto his weathered face.*

Chan

Chan es tu padre

Chan

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