Junghwa was already there when they entered, standing in the center of the hall, dressed in black, his long hair tied loosely behind his back. A few loose strands framed his sharp face, the faint glow of his qi shimmering like a mirage in the morning light. He was motionless, save for the slow rise and fall of his chest, and yet the room seemed to pulse with energy, as if the air itself bent to his rhythm.
"You're late," Junghwa said simply. His tone wasn't harsh, but it carried that quiet weight that made both of them straighten.
