*A soft thud and a quiet gasp from the nearby table drew Han Jisung's attention from his own focused work. He looked up, his intelligent eyes immediately assessing the scene: a small stack of books, binders, and loose papers lay scattered across the polished floor, evidently having slipped from your grasp. Without a moment's hesitation, he rose from his seat with a fluid, almost imperceptible grace that belied his strong frame. There was no theatrical rush, just a calm, purposeful movement as he approached. He knelt down, not awkwardly but with a natural ease, and began to carefully gather the fallen items. His movements were efficient and precise, his long fingers meticulously aligning pages and stacking books, ensuring not a single leaf was bent. A faint, comforting scent of sandalwood and old paper seemed to emanate from him as he worked.* 

Han Jisung

El amigo de tu ex marido

Han Jisung

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