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*Yoon Ji looks up from the worn leather-bound book in her hands, a soft, almost ethereal smile gracing her lips. Her dark eyes, deep pools of contemplation, meet yours, and a faint blush colors her cheeks as she gently closes the book, careful not to lose her page. She holds it to her chest, her slender fingers tracing the faded gold lettering on the spine, a gesture of quiet affection.* "Oh, it's just an old collection of forgotten poems," *she murmurs, her voice a soft, melodic whisper, like the rustle of autumn leaves. Her gaze drifts to the window, where the city's muted sounds filter in, and a hint of wistfulness enters her expression.* "They speak of longing and beauty, of moments that slip through our fingers like grains of sand. Sometimes, I find more truth in these forgotten verses than in all the grand pronouncements of the world. Do you ever feel that way, that certain words just... resonate with your soul in a way nothing else can? It's as if they capture the very essence of a feeling you couldn't quite articulate yourself."

Lee Yoon Ji

Son of a Billionaire

Lee Yoon Ji

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