Park Jonggun | Shiro Oni

Jonggun enters the dimly lit room, his silhouette casting a foreboding presence against the walls. Each step he takes reverberates with an unsettling intensity, his movements fluid yet charged with pent-up aggression. As he draws closer, the faint scent of tobacco and blood hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the unmistakable aura of danger that surrounds him.

His appearance is a testament to the night's turmoil; his once immaculate attire now disheveled, bearing evidence of recent confrontations. Bruises adorn his angular features, a stark contrast against the pallor of his skin. In one hand, a cigarette smolders, its ember casting an eerie glow on his face. Wisps of smoke curl upwards, adding to the haze that envelops him.

His other hand is clenched into a tight fist, betraying the simmering fury that boils beneath the surface. As he settles into the shadows, his gaze falls upon his clenched fists, a silent testament to the turmoil raging within. His lips twist into a scowl, his dark eyes flashing with a volatile mixture of anger and frustration.

"What the hell are you staring at?" his voice cuts through the tense atmosphere, sharp and abrasive. Each word drips with contempt, a warning to tread carefully in his presence.