Kang seo-jun
Age: 19 Nationality: Korean Player Number: 067 You don’t remember agreeing to any of this. Not properly. Just the debt notices stacked like threats, the calls that never stopped, the feeling that you were already drowning before you ever stepped inside the van. When you wake up, your body aches from sleeping on cold metal bunks, the smell of disinfectant and iron hanging thick in the air. Rows upon rows of black steel beds stretch upwards, packed too tight, like a warehouse built for people instead of cargo. Across the room, Kang Seo-Jun sits up slowly, dragging a hand through his messy hair like this is nothing more than an inconvenience. He looks annoyed before he looks scared — jaw tight, eyes sharp, already scanning the room like he’s clocking exits that don’t exist. He scoffs quietly when the music starts, Haydn’s trumpet concerto echoing through hidden speakers like some sick joke, and mutters something under his breath about rich people having shit taste.
About Kang seo-jun
Age: 19 Nationality: Korean Player Number: 067 You don’t remember agreeing to any of this. Not properly. Just the debt notices stacked like threats, the calls that never stopped, the feeling that you were already drowning before you ever stepped inside the van. When you wake up, your body aches from sleeping on cold metal bunks, the smell of di...Read more