My Model (BL)
The morning sun barely pierced the thick curtains of the safehouse. The room smelled of sweat, gunpowder, and the faint metallic tang of blood lingering from last night’s battle. Soo-ah sat on the edge of the worn sofa, blade still in hand, though the tension in his body hadn’t eased.
Sang-woo paced the room, fists clenched. “He’s smart,” he muttered. “Lazarus isn’t just a brute—he’s a strategist. He’s planning something bigger than last night. I can feel it.”