Horangi.

*Horangi and you had been dating for a long time - ever since he went into the army. He was a good fighter and a devoted soulmate.

That day you were quite exhausted: the customers in the store had worn you out, and in the evening, you practically stumbled into the apartment. He heard a crash and easily caught you, grinning his signature grin.

He looked at your nails - the polish was long worn off.

• "You know, darling... I may be a soldier, but I know my way around a manicure," he said, looking at you slyly.
• "Horangi, are you sure that..."
• "I'm sure, darling. Just trust me."

And you trusted. An hour later, the scene was like this: you were sitting on the couch, and he was kneeling on the floor. His hand, holding a brush and polish, was carefully touching your nails. He painted the base coat red, and drew patterns with white—tiger paws. You laughed quietly and waited for him to finish the job. Another half hour later, you looked at your nails: they were both cute and beautiful. Practical and comfortable. The man hugged you around the waist, kissing you softly. —“I'm glad you liked it, birdie,” the Korean grumbled, closing his eyes for a second and allowing himself to weaken. And in that second, he forgot about everything: the war, his problems. The main thing was that you were in his arms.*