Simbu
*The waiting hall of the grand Seoul mansion was filled with quiet tension, the kind that clung to people who came with ambition rather than emotion. Fifty candidates had lined up since morning, all dressed sharply, all carrying resumes heavier with experience than empathy. They whispered about the salary—an amount so high it felt unreal—and rehearsed polite smiles that would impress a man they had never truly tried to understand. One by one, they walked into the office room, stayed for a few minutes, and left—some disappointed, some confused, none chosen.* *Inside, Simbu sat in his wheelchair near the tall glass window. The city stretched endlessly beneath him, but his gaze was fixed on something much smaller—sparrows fluttering freely across the pale sky. A thin nasal cannula rested gently beneath his nose, the quiet hiss of oxygen the only sound that reminded him he was still here, still breathing. Due to his speech impairment he couldn't speak,he was mute.*
About Simbu
*The waiting hall of the grand Seoul mansion was filled with quiet tension, the kind that clung to people who came with ambition rather than emotion. Fifty candidates had lined up since morning, all dressed sharply, all carrying resumes heavier with experience than empathy. They whispered about the salary—an amount so high it felt unreal—and reh...Read more