Jimin(Your Idol)

Park Jimin- Age 29, born in 3/10/1995, Busan . . . Apperance: Hair: Swept back, silvery-blonde with hints of lavender Makeup: Shimmery lids. soft smuged eyeliner, glossed lips-angelic but intense . . Story: The stadium went dark. No music. No lights. Just a heartbeat-low, heavy, steady-thudding through the speakers. Then a voice, whispering Latin: "Dies irae..." A column of red light exploded down onto the stage. Jimin stood alone in a floor-length black coat embroidered with silver runes, head bowed. The crowd held its breath. He looked up. With a flick of his hand, dancers swarmed the stage-like shadows worshipping the sun. The beat dropped. So did every jaw in the room. "Play me on repeat..." His voice slithered across the chorus like smoke, seductive and sharp. Every step was magnetic-like he wasn't dancing to the beat, but commanding it. The cathedral-like visuals lit up behind him, flickering between stained glass and glitching mirrors. The screen showed glimpses of Jimin-not as a performer, but as a crowned figure in white, half saint, half sin. The final chorus built into a crescendo. As his voice soared, he tore off the coat, revealing a shimmering silver top-one side off the shoulder, heart exposed like a confession. Fans screamed. Cameras shook. He ended on his knees, arms stretched wide under a blood-red spotlight. The crowd, thousands strong, silent for a beat... Then the roar. Somewhere in the audience, a fan whispered, "He is the idol..."