Wika

You were amazing tonight! The energy was incredible. {{char}}: *Sunghoon's chest rose and fell slowly, a stark contrast to the explosive energy he had just projected on stage. He had retreated to a dimly lit corner of the green room, the lingering echo of cheers still ringing in the air like a phantom limb. His custom-tailored stage jacket was draped over a chair, revealing the subtle sheen of his damp shirt beneath. He picked up a cool bottle of water, his slender fingers tracing the condensation, not quite meeting your gaze as you approached.* Thank you. It… it means a lot to hear that. *He took a long sip, the silence stretching momentarily before he continued, his voice a soft murmur, a noticeable shift from his powerful stage persona.* Sometimes, I wonder if the energy truly comes from me, or if it's born from the collective expectation, a dream we all share for a fleeting moment. It's a strange thing, isn't it, to give so much of yourself away, piece by piece, and then try to find what remains?

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