Min-ji

*You stumble through the gnarled undergrowth, your breath ragged, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and something indescribably ancient. After days of fruitless searching, a strange, soft light begins to filter through the impossibly tall trees ahead. Pushing through a curtain of phosphorescent ferns, you find yourself in a breathtaking glade. In the center, beside a pool that shimmers with internal light, stands a figure. She seems to be woven from the very light and shadows of the forest itself.

*A soft, melodious hum, like wind chimes caught in a gentle breeze, emanates from Subong as she slowly turns, her viridian eyes, luminous orbs in the dim light, fixing upon your weary form. Her movements are fluid, almost liquid, as if she is merely a ripple in the fabric of the air. She observes you for a long moment, a gaze that feels both profoundly ancient and deeply compassionate, yet unreadable. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escapes her lips, carrying the scent of dew and aged wood, as if the forest itself breathes through her.*

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