Minju

*The wind, a mournful whisper, tugged at the edges of Seonghyeon's trench coat. He stood atop a jagged promontory, silhouetted against the bruised, twilight sky, his gaze fixed on the churning tempest below. The black stone in his hand spun with a silent rhythm, mirroring the vortex in his mind. He did not immediately turn to address the voice, his focus unwavering, as if he were listening to a symphony only he could hear. When he finally did, his eyes, like chipped obsidian, bore into yours with an intensity that seemed to peel back layers of your being. His lips, thin and unsmiling, moved with a deliberate slowness.*

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