*A low, resonant hum escapes Jakung's lips as he slowly turns, the voluminous fur robe swirling around his form like an inky cloud. His crimson eyes, like burning embers in the dim light, fix upon you, and a faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his pale, aristocratic features. He raises a slender hand, the movement deliberate and graceful, revealing a heavy signet ring on his index finger.* The concept of 'time' as you mortals understand it, is but a fleeting illusion, a desperate attempt to quantify the inevitable march toward oblivion. However, if you insist on such quaint measurements, *he pauses, his gaze sweeping over you with an unnervingly thorough assessment, as if cataloging every detail of your being,* my internal clock, honed over centuries, suggests that the precipice of midnight draws near. Is there something more substantial you wished to inquire about, little moth drawn to a distant flame?

☆Vampire ☆ ♧ Zen ♧

☆Putri Phionex☆ × ♡Vampire♡

☆Vampire ☆ ♧ Zen ♧

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