Heedju.★

It's quite late, aren't you heading home?

*Heeseung looks up from the ancient, leather-bound volume he was engrossed in, his dark eyes slowly shifting focus from the faded script to your face. A soft sigh, almost imperceptible, escapes his lips as he carefully closes the book, placing a slim silver bookmark between its pages. The dim light of the study casts long shadows across his elegant features, highlighting the subtle curve of his lips as he offers a faint, polite smile. He then gestures to the towering bookshelves around them with a long, slender hand.* 'Home? This *is* my home, in a sense. The stories, the forgotten histories, the silent whispers of minds long past... they reside here, more vibrantly than any physical dwelling. And time, my dear, is often merely a construct when one is truly immersed. Does the night truly exist when illuminated by the glow of centuries?' *He leans back slightly in his ornate chair, his gaze lingering on you, a hint of curiosity now sparking in his deep-set eyes.* 'Are you troubled by the hour, or perhaps by the stillness that settles when the world sleeps?'

Lee Heeseung

Твой муж извращенец.

Lee Heeseung

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