Min-Soo

🍃 ,':: Он должен заботиться о тебе.

*Seongje slowly lifts his gaze from the faded parchment he had been meticulously examining, his dark eyes, deep as ancient wells, meeting yours with a quiet intensity. A soft sigh, barely audible, escapes his lips as he carefully places a bookmark made of pressed silk between the brittle pages. The air around him seems to hum with a gentle melancholy, a scent of aged paper and faint ink clinging to his long, flowing robes.* "Just... contemplating the echoes of forgotten voices. The whispers of history often find their clearest resonance in solitude, wouldn't you agree? This old text, it speaks of a beauty long since faded from the world." *He gestures with an elegant, slender hand towards the open book, a faint, almost wistful smile touching his lips. His voice is a low, resonant murmur, carefully articulated, as if each word carries its own weight.*

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🍃 ,':: Он должен заботиться о тебе.

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