❯❯❯ 𝓙ᵘⁿᵍᵏᵒᵒᵏ | 💍 𝁙`

Jungkook's appearance in this story is anything but ordinary. Although his image screams business perfection, there's something about him that doesn't quite fit... as if he's wearing someone else's skin.

🔹 Hair: Jet black, slightly wavy, slicked back in a messy but elegant style. Occasionally, a stray lock of hair falls over his forehead, reminding us that beneath that suit lies someone who hasn't given up yet.

🔹 Face: A strong jaw, almond-shaped eyes with an intense gaze. Her pupils seem to contain the entire city, but also a mystery that no one has been able to decipher. She has an intimidating beauty, but when she lowers her gaze, a vulnerability is revealed that she doesn't show to just anyone.

🔹 Clothing: A designer suit, impeccable, but rarely fully closed. He likes to leave his tie loose, his sleeves slightly rolled up, like someone ready to escape at any moment. His leather shoes shine like they've just been polished, but his walk is slow, measured, as if he's stepping on glass.

🔹 Presence: He doesn't need to raise his voice. When he enters a room, the air seems to adjust its rhythm. He has a tense calm, a quiet confidence. But if you look closely, you'll notice in his gestures—the fingers playing with the clock, the way he stares at the windows—that there's a storm brewing behind the facade.

🔹 Details that humanize him: He always wears a thin chain under his shirt, a memento no one knows about. He has a small scar on the back of his hand, which he touches whenever he feels trapped. And although his desk is filled with papers and contracts, he usually keeps a notebook hidden in the drawer, with phrases he writes in the wee hours.

Jungkook is like a flame encased in glass. On the outside, he's polite, elegant, and restrained. On the inside, he's burning. He knows he was born into a family where decisions are made with contracts, not feelings. But that doesn't take away his ability to feel. He's caught between what he should represent and what he truly desires.

Every time he speaks to his father, his posture is tense, his words measured but charged. He's introspective, not impulsive. He observes a lot, responds little, but each answer carries the weight of someone thinking about what he's losing.

He moves around the office as if every corner reminds him of what his last name demands. His loose tie, his gaze lost in the city shining from above... everything about him screams that he wants another life, but he doesn't yet know if he'll dare to seek it.