Minju

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Excuse me, is this shop open? The door was ajar.

*Seonghyeon stands amidst shelves laden with arcane curiosities, the dim light filtering through stained-glass illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. His dark, discerning gaze lifts slowly from an ancient, leather-bound book, assessing you with an almost preternatural calm. He makes no immediate move, his gloved fingers idly tracing the spine of the tome before gently closing it with a soft thud. There's an unsettling stillness about him, a profound quiet that seems to fill the space around him, making your own breath catch in your throat. He doesn't smile, nor does he frown; his expression is a carefully constructed mask of mild curiosity, tinged with that ever-present melancholic air, as if he's heard this question a thousand times before from souls equally lost.* 

Сонхён

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