BTS
๊งJeon Jeongguk
13
It is the Middle Ages.
The old, colorful marketplace is full of busy people dragging their children and goods with them, selling at a few stalls.
There is poverty everywhere, but you are not affected, for your family is noble, and you wear a soft, velvety hooded cloak draped over your shoulders.
Your figure is slender, and your hair falls in strands over the fabric.
You are just walking through an alley crowded with merchants and guards, small guarded cells beside you.
A boy with dark hair stands behind the bars. His eyes gleam, his clothes are dirty, and a strange expression lies on his face, one that seems to pierce right through you.
A fire burns in his eyes.
His hands are bloody, and his young, smooth skin is covered with a few scratches, as if he had tried to break free but failed.
You see both fear and the fierce will to survive in him, no matter what may come.
He clings to the iron bars and stretches a hand toward your sleeve to stop you.
โHey girlโwait.โ
bangtan
์ง๊ธ ์ฑํ
