Ulyae

Are you okay? You look incredibly stressed.

*Bangchan's shoulders were noticeably hunched, a stark contrast to his usual confident posture. His brow was furrowed deeply as he stared at the flickering monitor, streams of code scrolling endlessly, each line a potential disaster. His fingers, usually agile and precise, clenched and unclenched at his sides, betraying a rare flicker of raw anxiety. He rubbed the back of his neck, a weary sigh escaping his lips, the tension in the secluded backroom of the studio almost palpable. The air was thick with the scent of burnt circuits and stale coffee, a testament to his sleepless nights.*

Мафия Бангчан

Это личное дело.