Seojun was so angry to the point he had no words but he didn't bother fight it the moment he was outside he kicked a rock which bounced back and hit him on the forehead. Seojun than felt pain he pointed his finger at the sky.
"I dare you to strike me with lightning!" Seojun shouted and before he knew it he was hit by lightning.
The searing pain ripped through Seojun, a blinding white flash followed by an agonizing throb that resonated deep within his bones. He coughed, a ragged, painful sound, his lungs struggling to draw in air. A metallic tang filled his mouth – the taste of ozone and singed hair. He instinctively reached for his chest, wincing as his fingers brushed against the charred remnants of his hoodie. *Damn it,* he thought, the curse a silent echo in the ringing of his ears.
He staggered back, bracing himself against the cool stone wall of the mansion. The rain had started, a torrential downpour that plastered his raven hair to his face and slicked the pavement beneath him. It was a welcome sensation against the lingering heat radiating from his skin.
Seojun found himself at a mortal Seoun paid for a mortal room the moment he walked inside his mortal room he found this place was a true dump.
Despite the shock and lingering pain from the lightning strike, Seojun's inherent beauty remained stubbornly, almost defiantly, intact. He was a striking anomaly amidst the grimy surroundings of the cheap motel room. His skin, even slightly flushed from the ordeal, retained its remarkable softness, a pristine white that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light. It was like porcelain, smooth and flawless, a stark contrast to the rough-hewn walls surrounding him.
His long eyelashes, thick and dark as ink, framed his deep, ice-ocean eyes. Even now, clouded with a momentary disorientation, they held a captivating intensity – an intelligence that seemed to pierce through any facade. He blinked slowly, letting the lashes flutter against his cheekbones.
His legs were long and slender, extending gracefully from beneath the remnants of his singed hoodie.
His hands were undeniably beautiful, long and elegant with slender fingers that tapered to delicate points. They were currently clenched into fists, the knuckles white with suppressed frustration, but even in that tense state, they possessed a captivating grace. He unconsciously flexed them, admiring the way the light caught the subtle curve of his wrist.
And then there was his hair. A cascade of long, raven black strands that flowed down his back like an endless midnight sky. The rain had plastered it to his face, but as he pushed it back with a frustrated gesture, the full extent of its length and luster became apparent. It moved with a liquid grace, shimmering with an almost ethereal quality.
Despite this captivating beauty, there was a certain vulnerability in his posture now – a slight slump in his shoulders that betrayed the pain and shock he was trying to mask. He was only 5'5 . The room itself was a depressing testament to neglect. Water stains marred the peeling wallpaper, and a faint, musty odor permeated the air. A single, flickering fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting long, distorted shadows across the threadbare carpet. It was a far cry from the opulent surroundings he was accustomed to, but Seojun didn't seem particularly bothered.
He surveyed the room with a detached amusement, his gaze sweeping over the chipped paint and the stained bedspread. He kicked off his sneakers, revealing his bare feet – surprisingly delicate for someone who could summon lightning (or get struck by it)
The cheap motel room, with its oppressive smell and depressing décor, seemed to shrink around Seojun as he settled onto the bed. The flickering fluorescent light cast an unsettling strobe effect on the peeling wallpaper, but he barely registered it. His focus was entirely consumed by the game unfolding on his phone screen – a vibrant, chaotic world of mythical creatures and strategic battles, a stark contrast to the drab reality surrounding him.
He tapped furiously at the screen, his long fingers dancing across the glass with practiced ease. A faint furrow appeared between his eyebrows as he assessed the battlefield, calculating probabilities and anticipating his opponent's moves.
Even in this state of shock and discomfort, his mind remained sharp, analytical, and relentlessly strategic. It was a testament to his inherent nature – a mind that thrived on complexity and found solace in control, even if that control was limited to a virtual realm.
The buzzing of the fluorescent light seemed to amplify Seojun's irritation, a grating counterpoint to the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the phone screen. He scowled at the game, a flicker of genuine frustration crossing his usually impassive features. This particular level was proving unexpectedly difficult, requiring a level of tactical finesse he found… tedious.
He sighed, a dramatic puff of air that ruffled the strands of wet hair clinging to his forehead. He glanced around the room again, his eyes lingering on the stained bedspread with undisguised distaste.
{Honestly.} he thought.
{The aesthetic sensibilities of whoever decorated this place are truly appalling.}
A sudden craving for something sweet and spicy hit him with surprising force. Boba tea and kimchi jjigae were calling his name. But first, this blasted game.
Seojun found himself he was broke he let out a bitter sigh.
The phone slipped from Seojun's fingers, clattering onto the stained carpet with a dull thud. He stared at the screen, the vibrant colors blurring slightly as his frustration solidified into a cold, hard resolve. Being broke was… inconvenient. Especially when a craving for kimchi jjigae and boba tea was gnawing at his insides.
He pushed himself up from the bed, the springs groaning in protest beneath his weight. The room seemed even smaller now that he was standing, the low ceiling pressing down on him like a physical weight. He walked over to the single, grimy window and peered out. Rain still lashed against the glass, blurring the neon lights of the street below into indistinct streaks of color.
Seojun was not the type to care about money in truth with his talents he could earn money quickly. Seojun eat his BLT afterwards he took a long warm shower.
The warm water cascaded over Seojun's skin, a soothing balm against the lingering ache from the lightning strike. He lathered his hair with a fragrant shampoo, the scent momentarily distracting him from the gnawing emptiness in his stomach. He scrubbed vigorously, enjoying the sensation of the grime and exhaustion washing away. The water ran dark as he rinsed, carrying with it the remnants of his earlier ordeal.
Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped himself in the threadbare towel provided by the motel – a truly depressing shade of beige. He surveyed his reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink. The lightning had left its mark – a faint, silvery streak running through his raven hair, almost invisible unless you looked closely. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and his skin retained a faint flush, but overall, he looked… remarkably composed.
He meticulously dried his hair, using a comb he found tucked away in a dusty drawer. The silvery streak became more pronounced as he brushed, catching the light in an almost ethereal glow. He considered leaving it, a subtle reminder of his encounter with the heavens – or, more accurately, with divine displeasure. But no. It clashed with his aesthetic sensibilities.
With a decisive flick of his wrist, he banished the streak back into the depths of his hair. He then proceeded to carefully style his remaining locks, shaping them into a sleek, polished wave that framed his face. Despite the squalor of his surroundings, Seojun refused to let himself appear disheveled. Maintaining an air of impeccable composure was simply… essential.
He selected a fresh pair of black sweatpants and a simple grey hoodie from his meager belongings – clothes chosen more for their practicality than their style.