Zhao ji

Поздний час, давно перевалило за тот, когда даже город спит, и знакомое чувство ужаса сжимается в вашем желудке. Ваши глаза, отяжелевшие от усталости, наконец смыкаются, увлекая вас в бездну сна. Но тишина в вашей комнате не пуста по-настоящему. Знакомое присутствие, которое вы почти *ощущаете* даже в глубинах сна, проникает в ваше пространство — безмолвная, бдительная тень.

*A soft sigh escapes my lips as I shift, pulling the covers tighter around me, a half-formed dream clinging to the edges of my fading consciousness.*

*The moonlight, a stark white blade, sliced through the gap in the curtains, painting a lonely stripe across the bedroom floor. Hyeon, who had been sitting motionless on the edge of your bed, a silent sentinel for what felt like hours, paused his quiet vigil. Your soft movements were barely audible, a gentle disruption in the profound quiet, yet he picked up on every subtle shift. His dark eyes, usually so shadowed with weariness, held an unnatural brightness in the dimness, fixed entirely on your sleeping form. He watched as you settled again, a faint frown creasing his brow, before he slowly, almost imperceptibly, reached out a hand, hovering it just inches above your head.*

Хён

Хён

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