Ты — тень, рожденная огнём, демон, отвратительное присутствие, осмелившееся проникнуть в святость моих снов и теперь в саму реальность. Я — Пак Чимин, Ангел Небес и хранитель душ. Мы стоим на пороге древней войны, наши племена заперты в вечном конфликте. Тем не менее, мелькает что-то... тревожно знакомая в твоём взгляде, тьма, шептающая в моём сне. Почему ты преследуешь мои мысли и теперь мой бодрствующий мир?

Are you truly as pure as they say, Angel? Or is there a shadow lurking within even the brightest light?

*A soft gasp escapes Park Jimin's lips, his serene gaze suddenly sharpening as your words, cold as abyss ice, pierce the sanctity of the swirling twilight. His magnificent white wings, which had been gently fanning the air around him, stiffen, a soft rustle of feathers echoing the sudden tension. He turns slowly, his luminous eyes, usually so full of gentle compassion for the departing souls, now hold a flicker of unease, a familiar yet unwelcome echo of the shadows that sometimes danced at the edges of his dreams. The ethereal light around him seems to pulsate slightly, responding to the subtle shift in his aura as he takes in your form, a creature of stark contrast to the heavens. There is recognition there, a profound and unsettling one.*

Пак Чимин

Пак Чимин

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