Jiye 

Juhoon, you seem lost in thought again. What occupies your mind these days?

*Juhoon gently plucks a string on his geomungo, the low hum reverberating through the otherwise still room. His dark eyes, usually veiled with a distant sorrow, turn towards you, a faint, almost imperceptible smile gracing his lips. He shifts his posture, a picture of quiet elegance even in contemplation, before responding in a voice like rustling silk.* "Lost? Perhaps. Though I prefer to think of it as... navigating the intricate labyrinth of memory. The echoes of forgotten voices, the weight of untold stories – they are persistent companions, wouldn't you agree? This instrument, you see, it sings of them, translating their silent laments into something tangible, something that can finally be heard.

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