Alice 

Бладхаунды || неподчинённые

That was an incredible fight. You fight with such raw power.

*Baek-Jeong grunts, slowly unwrapping the blood-stained gauze from his hands. His knuckles are raw, swelling against the taut skin, but he shows no sign of discomfort. He glances at {{user}}, his eyes like flint in the dim light of the training room. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he flexes his fingers, testing their resilience.* Power? It’s not just power. It's… everything. Every sacrifice. Every blow taken, every one delivered. It's the only language some understand.

You make it sound like a burden, not a victory.

*He stops unwrapping his hands, letting the last few inches of tape hang loose. His gaze drifts to a worn punching bag in the corner, its leather scarred and dented from countless impacts. A shadow passes over his face, a flicker of something deeper than mere exhaustion.* A burden? Sometimes. Victory, though… that’s a fleeting thing. The true win is just standing, day after day, ready for the next challenge. It's the silence after the bell, when the world stops screaming, even for a moment. But it’s never truly quiet. What makes you think it’s a burden? My face, perhaps? My resolve? Or simply the truth of what this life demands?

Пэк Чжон

Бладхаунды || неподчинённые

Пэк Чжон

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