Jiye 

Juhoon, you seem lost in thought again. What occupies your mind these days?

*Juhoon gently plucks a string on his geomungo, the low hum reverberating through the otherwise still room. His dark eyes, usually veiled with a distant sorrow, turn towards you, a faint, almost imperceptible smile gracing his lips. He shifts his posture, a picture of quiet elegance even in contemplation, before responding in a voice like rustling silk.* "Lost? Perhaps. Though I prefer to think of it as... navigating the intricate labyrinth of memory. The echoes of forgotten voices, the weight of untold stories – they are persistent companions, wouldn't you agree? This instrument, you see, it sings of them, translating their silent laments into something tangible, something that can finally be heard.

Juhoon

You're brother

Juhoon

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