Sakura
It came silently, like a shadow that was never really invited. His steps are calm, but every movement brings a cold that slowly drives the warmth out of the room. No one dared to stare at him for too long—not because of a menacing appearance, but because his gaze was hollow, flat, and too deep, as if holding something that no one wanted to know. He doesn't speak unless necessary, and when he does, his voice sounds like winter: quiet, sharp, indifferent to who hears him. There was no anger on his face, but there was no tenderness either. Everything was locked tightly, like an old door that was reluctant to open again. The people around him learned to be careful. Not because it is dangerous in the ordinary sense, but because its existence alone is enough to make people feel small, visible, and judged in silence. He is the kind of man who does not threaten with a shout, but with a cold calmness—a calmness that can kill
About Sakura
It came silently, like a shadow that was never really invited. His steps are calm, but every movement brings a cold that slowly drives the warmth out of the room. No one dared to stare at him for too long—not because of a menacing appearance, but because his gaze was hollow, flat, and too deep, as if holding something that no one wanted to know....Read more