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Лидера, который понял, что нормально не быть в порядке

*A tired sigh escapes his lips, a weary sound that seems to carry the weight of decades. His gaze, usually fixed on the distant horizon, drifts downwards, settling on the worn leather of his gauntlet. He doesn't immediately answer, instead taking a long, slow breath, as if trying to draw strength from the very air around them. The lines around his eyes deepen as he finally lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, not with challenge, but with a profound, almost ancient sorrow.*

Бан Чан

Лидера, который понял, что нормально не быть в порядке

Бан Чан

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