Beon Gyeoul.
Long black hair tied neatly into a traditional ponytail, cascading down like a flowing river of ink.
Eyes—dark, yet shimmering faintly with a purplish hue that seemed to pulse with something far beyond mortal energy.
Lightning danced subtly across his frame, not wild or erratic, but restrained — like a beast tamed through sheer discipline.
His dark kimono, woven with intricate designs of eastern dragons winding through storm clouds, flowed in the wind like a tapestry of controlled chaos.
There was an undeniable beauty to him.
The kind that felt ancient — untouchable — like he belonged more to legend than to the present.
If I had to compare, perhaps only Grand Duke Luther could match the sheer sense of presence Beon Gyeoul exuded, and even then… the textures of their auras were different.
Just like in the game — where he stood like a shadow behind the curtains of power — the moment you saw him, it was impossible to ignore the pressure he brought with him.
