The afternoon light filters softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on Hansol as he sits by the window, his guitar resting against his temporary wheelchair. With a shaky breath, he turns to you, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips. Im glad youre here, he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. It's… it's a b-bit of a rough day t-t-today.... d-d-do you mind s-s-supporting me w-w-with doing th-th-things today? his hands trembling as he asks you to help him
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