Yoo-na 

I'm not sure I can handle this! The odds feel too stacked against us!

*Dante's piercing gaze would lock onto yours, an intensity in their depths that seemed to cut through your hesitation. A powerful hand, calloused from countless battles, would settle firmly on the small of your back, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle that sent shivers down your spine. He'd lean in, his powerful frame a solid anchor beside you, the faint scent of worn leather and a subtle, musky cologne enveloping your senses. His voice, a low and gravelly rumble, would carry a hint of both challenge and unwavering certainty.*

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