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You've been working late again, haven't you?

*The low hum of the studio's ventilation system was the only sound breaking the silence as Jongseong leaned against the grand piano, fingers idly tracing patterns on the polished wood. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, a testament to hours spent hunched over scores and lyrics. He didn't immediately look up when your voice cut through his thoughts, instead, he inhaled slowly, the faint scent of old paper and ambition clinging to him. When his gaze finally lifted to meet yours, it was heavy-lidded, yet sharp, a mix of exhaustion and an unwavering drive burning in their depths.*

Пак Чонсон

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