#accepted;

Accepted — Hyun Soomin

♣   Hyun Soomin looks like Kim Chungha (solo) ♣    She was December 17, 1918; making her 106 but she appears 25 years old ♣   This Kumiho is Pansexual, Heart Defector, and a Three of Clubs ♣   She is an attendant at the Dragonfire Hotsprings and an errand girl

BIOGRAPHY

Bora was born to a single mother, a three of hearts serf full of dread and regret. It wasn’t always like that, though.

Her mother was a thousand years old kumiho who had been aging quicker than before during the past century, due to the stress and poor quality of life she led after losing all her money and, with that, her previous nine of hearts rank. Being a successful drug merchant wasn’t exactly the safest profession, with fierce and ruthless competition to go against it didn’t come as a surprise, even though it turned into a traumatic, life changing experience, to be framed and driven to bankruptcy. Never married to the father, he took that as a chance to abandon them, since his rank hadn’t been affected by the scandal. She lost everything except for the baby in her womb. All the way down to a three and with the little savings she had outside the Zuihuo Bank -not enough to change her rank- she was left with a huge debt, a large belly and almost no options for a new job. Homeless and having a hard time facing reality she wandered around directionless. She almost didn’t survive giving birth to Bora if it wasn’t for a spade healer that took pity on the kumiho trying to do it alone in an alley, her water breaking in the middle of the Joker moments before. Wondering what would be best for her and the baby, deserting hearts and trying to join spades seemed like her best bet, but she never made it to the spade territory. For some time, other lower rankers in the heart faction helped her and the newborn survive, she didn’t even feed in a long while because the stress caused migraines and slowly drained her power, but the incessant cries of her baby drove her insane until she reached a turning point. If she wanted to survive, if she wanted Bora to do so, she had to let her wild nature as a kumiho come out and be as ruthless as they were to her. The day Bora turned one year old she went into a feeding frenzy. She stole and hunted. She lied and deceived with her illusions. She hid. Every human heart and every human kidney she could get in her hands was split into halves, one for her and one for Bora. She wanted her daughter to come into her power as soon as possible while she gained enough strength and courage to initiate her next move. It came soon as a conclusion that it was either selling her body, taking part in morally dubious business or serving a rich family, and if she was going to do so, then the family she was indebted to was the most reasonable choice. At that moment she didn’t have a place to call home, nor any income. It was a blow to her already humiliated soul, but she would take it for her daughter. You would think an infant wouldn’t notice any of this, but Bora knew and felt, she absorbed all of it as she watched her mother work and take care of her at the same time to the point of exhaustion. Years later, when Bora was old enough, she began serving as well under the name Wisteria. Every serf working for the family received the name of a flower, and she decided to take the meaning of hers as a mantra; longevity and endurance defined foxes accurately. In a fresh bank account, she saved and saved, hoping to one day rise in the social scale and help clear her mother’s debt. It was harder than it seemed though, not earning much as a serf led her to contact people in the darkest alleys of the heart borough whenever she had a chance to go out. She ran errands for the house and for a drug dealing gang always going by Wisteria and not her birth name. A kumiho’s illusions and transformations came in handy for many things as it would appear. Her mother wasn’t happy with her decision, but Bora couldn’t stand watching how the serving life was weakening her day by day. It took decades to take a step upwards. Many times, she thought it would be impossible, but keeping an eye on her own -almost nonexistent- expenses and limiting her social life she became a four of hearts. Did anything at all feel different? No, but it actually gave her the opportunity to consider other means of living.

IN RECENT YEARS

Even though it sounded like a good idea, Bora never left the family she worked for, not even when she made it as far as five of hearts. She couldn’t leave her mother there, still being paid with just food and a bed to sleep on. There were so many things the young vulpe could do now, but she had grown used to the job, the faces and the fake sense of security that even her questionable side job gave her. And still, every once in a while, she could feel a tingling sensation all over her skin, her blood rushing through her veins and her trembling hands trying to reach for something invisible. She couldn’t help but wonder if this life was really meant for her.

Sooner or later things would change -her gut told her- but the way it happened marked her whole existence and dictated her future.

In the middle of the 2023 winter, January, her mother passed away. Depression and anxiety took her slowly over time, but too fast for a kumiho. She hadn’t turned into her fox form in a long while, even though Bora tried to make her. It was like she was giving up and her daughter couldn’t do anything but watch her fade away.

Was it unfair to feel betrayed by her mother and those she worked for? Bora didn’t know. All she knew was that everything hurt. Becoming orphaned and indebted by inheritance, which automatically demoted her to one of hearts, were never in her list of aspirations. Even the family she served for years started treating her differently, even though she was the same person. Her own existence started losing its meaning.-“Sorry for leaving so soon, Bora. I don’t know exactly when it’s going to happen, but I can feel that I won’t stay with you for much longer. Take care. You’re the only reason I haven’t left before. I love you.”

It was written on a letter she found among her mother’s belongings, next to a stack of older looking ones that after inspection revealed the strangely close relationship her mother maintained with a club, and not just a lowranker like her, not even a regular highranker like she used to be, he was a jack of clubs.

Making sure her tears didn’t smear the ink on the letters, she read through all of them, starting from the most distressed looking, the oldest. She learned that they met through work around the time her business saw enough success to branch out to other districts. Their relationship seemed merely professional at first glance, but Bora quickly caught up with the little affectionate terms and endearments they exchanged more and more frequently. It was also very clear that her mother was already involved with Bora’s father, but it didn’t seem to affect their mutual flirtation. She also learned that he was a kumiho as well as they casually talked about feeding, transformation and everything that was quintessentially a fox spirit’s concern.

Bora wondered if they got to meet in person and how often. If their longing for each other ever saw compensation. Hyperfixating on the letters for a whole month kept her from drowning in the despair she felt every time the world reminded her of the current situation and when she finished the last one, already more than ten years old, an epiphany took place.

Maybe this mysterious, at least in her eyes, jack of clubs was her ticket to a new life. All she had to do was leave everything behind, unpaid debt included, and flee towards the club district. They wouldn’t send anyone after her, right? They didn’t care for her mother until she offered herself in exchange for a roof.

Meeting him wasn’t as easy as she initially thought, though, the club borough was recovering for the recent civil war after all, everyone was extra vigilant. It turned out to be hard enough just to find his whereabouts, not to mention he was surrounded by heavy security, a necessity for a drug and gem trader, plus there was no apparent or justified reason for him to direct his attention to a one of hearts kumiho that had nothing but the bag she carried on her back. Unfortunately for him, Bora wasn’t going to give up as she couldn’t turn back. There was nothing but emotional pain waiting for her back in hearts. Yes, in clubs she would have to endure the physical kind, but her determination wasn’t running low.

It was during the third of her futile, middle of the street at night, ambushes that she mentioned her mother for the first time since she died, in a cry for help as his bodyguards slammed her to the ground. That was enough to discreetly take her back to his place and hear her out.

It was then when Bora learned his name, which the letters didn’t mention for privacy matters. Kwon Iseul sounded as serious as he was, at least from what Bora could grasp during the first conversation they had. He agreed to help her, but only under a long list of conditions that included a fake name and limiting most of her activities to the night.

From that moment on she would be known as Hyun Soomin.

Iseul covered her tracks so her debtors back at hearts couldn’t easily find her, a bit of personal rivalry getting in the mix, he also found her a place to stay and immediately commenced the mentoring and training she desperately needed. As kumihos, feeding in clubs wasn’t as easy as it was before, they no longer turned a blind eye much to Bora’s disappointment, but there were still ways that he taught her. Regarding fights, she had no experience, she only knew how to use her powers at a basic level. There was so much to do. A few days later, already in the third month of the year, she was officially a one of clubs under his wing.

Little by little she proved her worth as a warrior, from using illusions to transforming into a beautiful black fox, she used every advantage she had to very slowly raise her rank. Always letting some time pass between battles as the last thing in her interest was to call attention upon herself.

Nowadays she is a three of clubs.

She got a job at the hot springs as part of her façade and to make some money of her own, but until the Dragonfire reopens she just keeps running errands -in the dark and away from the heart district- for Iseul.

PERSONALITY

In the eyes of strangers, Bora is a quiet, observant, maybe even a judgmental person. She usually speaks in a low voice that holds her real personality back, unless provoked. Indeed, this is far from her true self, it’s just a reflection of who she used and fakes to be. Slowly, she is developing a daring and bold attitude that sometimes comes out at unexpected times. She’s simply getting to know herself better now that she doesn’t have to obey anyone. She responds to her sponsor, but she isn’t serving him. Plus, the fights are basically forcing her to be more assertive, she knows that presence and psychological dominance can play a big part when you’re physically smaller than the majority of your opponents. It’s not like she was a submissive small fry before, never acted like one, but it is now she’s finally starting to match her potential.

Smart, cunning, analytical, untrusting, individualistic, dominant, fearless. She is driven by nothing else than proving her own worth to herself, she has found out that she thrives in violence and that she is pretty good at beating people up. Her fighting style is full of tricks and backstabbing.  Sometimes she shows another side of herself, more relaxed, flirtier and charmingly mischievous, a side she’s coming to after meeting new people, mostly those working for Iseul.

Her vulnerable side comes out at the memory of her mother and her mental health, especially during the last few months before dying. She doesn’t like at all talking about her or her past. This also leads to paranoia, wondering if one day someone will manage to take her back to the heart district, her debt still unpaid.

On another note, she rarely shows her fangs, tail, fluffy ears or anything that indicates her nature, which isn’t that common in the club borough and would give her out. Although, when she’s around people she trusts, mainly Iseul, she likes to display her foxy attributes.

She doesn’t discriminate based on ranks, knowing perfectly well what is like to be on the bottom, but she can be very judgmental towards highrankers if they show that very same kind of demeanor.

She has heard of the resistance many times, but she doesn’t care about it unless they mess with her lifestyle. It’s not like she disagrees with everything they stand for, but she obviously can’t accept their policies regarding vulpes’ feeding. Yes, humans are living beings, but she needs it to stay healthy and strong.

Congratulations Kisu your app has been accepted and we’re excited to have your muse on the dash with us.

Accepted — Song Narcissa

♥  Song Narcissa aka. Karma looks like Bae Joohyun (red velvet) ♥  She was born March 29, 1991; making her 29 years old but her possessor is much older ♥  This Demon is Pansexual and a Queen of Hearts ♥  She is the owner of The Secret Room, a brothel in the Red Light District

Biography

All of the women born into the Song bloodline are named after flowers; all of them destined to uphold a legacy of sweet temptation. To lure in bees; pockets dripping with honey, stingers sharp and ready to prick. Azalea, Dahlia, Gardenia, Iris, Lily, Magnolia…Narcissa. And thus, the seventh Song daughter came to be. But Narcissa never felt like a flower, never embodied the ideals that her sisters embraced; all of them before her, silent beauties rivaling to be plucked. 

No. Narcissa was not a flower. She was a bird. The only thing she ever wanted to do was sing. And as she watched her sisters have their beautiful petals plucked and trampled on the ground, one after another, all she wanted to do was fly away.

It is not just beautiful flowers that attract strangers to a garden. A sweet song can do just the same. Narcissa was frightened, at first, of the old man who ventured through the garden gate but he kept his distance, seeming perfectly content to listen to her sing. And sing she did! Song after song until the euphoric emotion waned and caved into the crippling terror she felt encroaching every day. Floodgates opened as she helplessly sobbed and confessed all of her fears to the sympathetic old man.

Withered hands brushed away her tears and, like an angelic being sent by the old Gods, he offered her an escape; a refuge. ‘I can keep you safe forever. Where no one’s hands can hold you. You can stay in a garden just like this, and sing and sing to your heart’s content.

’To say that Narcissa ‘changed’ after that day is practically an understatement. It was like she became an entirely different person. While the Song females are flowers, the Song males, though few and far between, are bees; just like the rest. Did you know that many bees die after using their stinger? This certainly became the case for her already dwindling male relatives, especially those who held seats of power in the family business.

With no one barring her way, she nestled comfortably atop her new throne. Narcissa, newly promoted Queen and newly dubbed ‘Karma,’ went about completely overhauling the Song establishment, giving it a sultry re-branding and instating a fresh set of rules for the swarms of new and returning patrons. ‘You’re welcome and encouraged to divulge details of your own escapades in The Secret Room, but you must not reveal the endeavors of anyone else you happen to see enjoying themselves. Failure to adhere to this rule will incite the wrath of Lady Karma and no one wants that. Signatures required upon entry.

Personality

Karma thinks factions do an amazing job of categorizing people who are too dim or uninteresting to put effort into honing their own personality. She thinks ranks are even more amusing. There’s nothing like watching flawed mortals crawl over and step on others, in many cases, ridding themselves of any redeeming qualities, in order to progress the tiny symbol on their wrist and prove that they’re somehow ‘better’ than everyone else. She believes ultimately, that you don’t know anything about a person until they’re in a situation where they believe no one is watching.

Congratulations Moony your app has been accepted and your personalized plot drop will be sent to you soon.

Accepted — Wainwright Rook

♣     Rook Wainwright aka Hyena looks like Colson Baker (musician/actor) ♣     He was born October 13th, 1966; making him 58 years old, but he appears 26 ♣     This Concubus is Bisexual and a King of Clubs ♣     He is a Tavern Owner and Resistance Informant

Biography

tw: child abandonment

 “I’ll keep a razor in my wraps to slit your throat at the gates.”

 Rook Wainwright was doomed to be a menace from the start. Memories not eroded by drugs or head trauma of his childhood are few and far between, but what he remembers in fleeting moments is the cold, the ache in his stomach as he struggled to keep himself fed, both on meager scraps of bread and small amounts of water, and the emotional stimuli of the world around him, drawn to anger and misery like a moth to a brilliant flame for his own survival. An orphan with no awareness of his true lineage, Rook knew only that one of his parents had been a concubus- and that if they had once lived in the slums of Club, they had long since left it, and him, behind. Little more than a child, Rook had no awareness of the concepts he’d fallen victim to, homelessness, abandonment- He knew only that he wanted to- no, needed to survive, and so, he fought tooth and nail to do just that.

 Club was unkind to him, brutal and lawless, but he found his comfort in a few kinder hands and hearts, a warm meal here and there, a mend on his dirty sweater or a hand me down coat to fight off the biting cold of the winter, and as he grew, he came to understand his position better- he was a one. Lowest of the lows, sooner to be spat on than offered a helping hand, but there were others, people who certainly looked just like him living lives a thousand times better. What made them different? Made them greater than Rook himself? What had they done to deserve their comfortable homes and three square meals? What had they done to sit in the warm glow of the taverns while Rook wasted away in the streets? He learned soon enough that they’d fought for those positions, tore their comfort from the teeth of their opposition, of their ‘greaters’- and had reaped the benefits. Now a teenager with a lithe, muscular frame, the young concubus was no whelp, and with nothing but a miserable excuse of a life to lose, he threw his hat into the ring of Club’s constant power struggles, practically gorging himself on anger and fear before each fight to grasp his single edge over those he faced: Head games.

 “The cuts won’t kill you, but hesitation just might. Don’t let him get in your head.”

 Oh, how Rook loved watching his opponents squirm, every little emotion, their trepidation, their concern, their fear of losing their status to some young upstart made him bloodthirsty. From the first unlucky two he’d challenged to a fight, his method rarely changed: shake them to their core, break their focus. He’d taunt them, infuriate them into making a foolish mistake- the only mistake he needed to put them down. Weaponless and unable to afford one, he chose instead to hone his fists, torn fabric wrapped around shards of glass and rusted nails to make each swing a more deadly hazard, cutting his own hands to pieces in every clash, wrists slick with blood each time he placed a foot on the neck of his fallen opponent. Each promotion was that one step closer to no longer living with the shameful gaze of those who thought he was nothing, something he had now come to loathe.  By 18, Rook was a three of clubs, and had garnered the respect of those beneath him, somewhat renowned for his uncharacteristic kindness to his fellow lowrankers, it was his own bread that he broke now for the Ones struggling to get by, he held no ill will toward those he’d stepped on to climb up- it was the way life worked, after all, and those he left alive always had Rook’s respect. At least, most of them.

 “...A Scavenger, you know that’s what you are, right? Scrappy little fucker picking fights you can’t finish?”

 Rook’s promotion to a seven was unintentional, at least, as unintentional as the boy could manage. Now in his early twenties, Rook had comfortably settled at his position as a five, a dagger strapped to his hip and several tattoos marking his arms denoting his history and previous wins, the closest thing to a journal that the illiterate concubus could maintain to remember his experiences over the years. He’d liked the position, respected by the lowrankers and rarely bothered by the face cards, and most importantly, able to feed his newfound thirst for the emotion of lust, he likely would have held his position for the rest of his life, no hunger to climb higher than somewhere he felt comfortable, if not for the fact he had gotten brave and made a move on a pretty Seven at the tavern, satisfied to simply be rejected for acting out of his position, to feed on the disgust and shock at his mere implication he might be worthy- what he got instead: was stabbed.

 The young man’s lover had seen the exchange, and not particularly pleased at the implication he could be replaced by a five of all things, had drawn his weapon and immediately challenged Rook. With no opportunity to prepare, and largely untrained with his own dagger, Rook was staggered, forced into fighting with a wound and a much more capable foe, his saving grace was liquor, their fight moving into the street before his competitor staggered on the steps, falling back just enough that he could close the distance. It was the same young man he’d flirted with who’d pulled him off, and it was the barmaid who tended to his wound that he celebrated with that night. He was a highranker now, and once more, that voice in the back of his head reminded him that he was still, in the eyes of some, unworthy- a fly to swat, a waste of air and turin. The drive that he had been able to abandon for so long had roared back to life, he would be antagonized no longer, made to look weak by those around him never again. And so, he trained.

 “Fights like a man possessed, I tell you. Doesn’t even use a weapon half the time.”

 His further climbing of ranks was slow going, but brutal. Unlike those he fought to ascend to Seven, he left none he fought for his next position alive, ten bodies of his fellows falling at his feet. He’d known what they thought of him, his promotion a fluke, that his rank never would have changed, if he hadn’t been aided by the mead coursing through the other Club. he proved them wrong over and over again, and as his rank ticked to eight, then nine, then ten, each one hard fought and won with fists more often than his weapons, his body became a network of ink and scars, each mark a new chapter in the story he’d committed to his flesh. By the time he challenged the position of King, Rook had come to be known as “Hyena,” a scavenger with a taste for blood and a brutality not to be underestimated. Now in his late thirties, Rook had stopped aging, and reached his full potential as a concubus, he fed like a king on lust and desire, low ranks and high alike charmed into his bed, honeyed words and drugs shared on wicked tongues in the dark, anger and fear fueling him in the ring. He had long played smart, his position of Jack taken from the hands of the foolish, the Queen rank choked out of a human who simply couldn’t withstand the physical onslaught- But his opponent for the position of King would offer him no such ease, a Strongarm with a history as bloodied as Rook’s own standing between him and his goals.

 “Concede. Concede and we both walk out of here Kings. It’s a fair trade, Rook.”

 Rook eventually stood over the bloodied body of the other King, planting his foot on the back of his neck with a primal howl, bones sore and broken, armor chipped and busted, but alive, alive and victorious. He was a King, standing now in the upper echelon of face cards with wounds that would eventually heal to show for it. He had proven with no uncertainty that he was no whelp, no refuse of the streets, and for the twenty years that followed- he would hold that position with a brutal efficiency. Rarely challenged for his title, Rook eventually ‘retired’ from his desperate climb for the top- and from his mercenary for hire work for extra coin. He settled on opening a tavern and working on learning how to read, the time not spent cleaning the bar spent reading and writing, practicing skills he never gave himself the peace to embrace as he was growing up. Still addicted to anything he could chew, smoke or drink, Rook’s tavern soon became a well known hideaway for those less… upstanding than most, an uncomfortable kind of peace formed in the awareness that the King running the place would sooner kill a troublemaker than huck them out on their ass. It was through the Tavern he became privy to, and eventually joined the Resistance, an ear to the ground in High Rank circles and many low ones given his position and occupation, Rook is an information broker, collecting and trading information to those who know how to stay on his good side. His hatred of being looked down upon eventually becoming a lust for true anarchy, no loyalty to Club or anyone but himself, for that matter. In Rook’s mind, there are two kinds of people, those worthy of and willing to work for  their survival, and those who are better off crushed beneath the cogs of change.

In Recent Years

Rook has maintained his position as the owner of the Thronebreaker Tavern, so called for one of his early nicknames. He continues to pass information between members of the resistance and operates within High Rank circles only to gather intel, otherwise preferring to be left to his life of excess. Infrequently called to defend his position as a King, Rook has no interest in becoming the Ace of Clubs, and is satisfied to hold his place under a fellow member of the resistance, but he maintains his training regime, and is well known for his brutal removal of those who break the peace of his tavern for anything other than a fight for rank. His addiction to Chrono when he was younger has caused damage to his mind, making him quick to anger and difficult to predict in recent years, and while no longer using it specifically, he still partakes in most other drugs, usually while running the Tavern itself. His taste for anarchy continues to grow, and he’s reveled in the recent attacks performed by those in the resistance, the fear and uncertainty more than enough to sustain him and the general promise of more to come exciting to the concubus.

Personality

Rook has never had any love for the rank system, he climbed it simply because he had to, used it to get where he wanted to be, and treats those around him with that thought process in mind, the gangs and ranks mean nothing to him, a Spade One is as respected as a Heart Ace in his eyes, so long as they respect him in return. Those who are unfamiliar with his past find him generally polite and jovial, a bartender with hundreds of stories and a proclivity for offering drinks on the house if the patron’s got a story to share in return, an imposing man with a heart of gold, at least on the surface. Those with a familiarity with Rook know that his kindness is as much of a play for power as his climb toward King was, that he’s a cunning, calculated sort who never acts without thinking twelve steps ahead, and that telling him too much could get you in the sights of someone you don’t want looking in on you. While often calm and measured, Rook is not above his anger, and often allows it to overtake him with little warning, though if this is because of his drug addictions or his history is up for debate.

  A horrendous flirt with a winning smile and a silver tongue, Rook’s truest vice is in the sins of the flesh, willing to trade more than a few things for a rendezvous in his bedroom, he isn’t picky about who he throws his chips in with, a behavior that’s gotten him in trouble before, and earned him an even more distasteful gaze than even his species has. Despite this, he’s warm and inviting, and keeps his friends close, loyal to the death to those willing to risk a friendship with the Hyena.

Congratulations Ring your app has been accepted and your invitation to the discord will be sent to you soon.

ACCEPTED — McKay Nora

◆    McKay Nora aka Merciless looks like Katherine McNamara (actor) ◆    She was born 22 November 1968; making her 56 years old ◆    This Shifter is Heterosexual, a Clubs Deserter, and a Three of Diamonds ◆    She is an underground cage fighter and a mercenary.

BIOGRAPHY

Nora's childhood was quite unspectacular. She grew up well protected and loved by her adoptive parents in the Diamond faction of Kadeu. From an early age she was aware of the fact that she was adopted, because of the different species and tattoo on her wrist compared to her parents one. Her mother Leila McKay, an Elementalist and harpist of an orchestra, and her father Henson McKay, also an Elementalist and a LEA sergeant, didn't care about her daughters origin as 1 of Clubs, nor her species. They loved her with all their heart as if she was a child of their own.

At the time of adoption the childless couple were trying to have a child for quite a while without success. As a result, Leila was falling more and more into a deep depression, since it was her dearest wish to have a child and to be a mother. Nora joined the family by sheer chance. That day, Henson, a LEA corporal at that time, were able to arrest a criminal organization, that were earning money by child trafficking, after months of investigations. She heard the story from her father so many times that she could tell it in her sleep. He didn't found her in the house with the other children, but outside among the bushes near the house. Maybe a footboy of the group just wanted to bring the newborn to the other children, but had noticed the LEA officers and got rid of the baby to run away. Her father always told her, that she didn't make any noises. She was just lying there and looking as if she was exactly waiting for him. He was falling head over heels in love with this little baby girl, who were smiling brightly as soon as their eyes met and Henson knew he had to bring her home with him.

Henson never regretted his decision and even Leila’s health got better after the house was filled with noises of a baby. Of course, she had taken Nora into her heart right after seeing her for the first time. Nora had a happy childhood till the first day at school. Children can be cruel and going to a Diamond private school as an adopted Club child didn't make things any easier for Nora. From day one at school Nora was constantly bullied by her schoolfellows for being a "Club" and during her school years she made barely friends with anyone. Her only support during this time was her mother, who gave her a feeling of belonging no matter what.

But life can be cruel, too... When Nora was about 13, her mother came down with an unknown virus infection, that caused a long and severe disease progression. In the end Leila lost the fight against the disease and died as a result of it. Watching her mother suffer and being ravaged by disease, changed something in her whole being and personality. She was more and more boiling with rage and after her mothers death she was boiling over with rage. From now on she reacted to the bullying at school with violence - with her fists. She was never a good schoolgirl, but from then on she was also known as troublemaker, who didn't risk to be flunked out of school just once.

Her father, who was also still grieving about the loss of his wife, was completely unable to cope with the teenage girl overcome by grief and the trouble she caused because of it. He changed his working place and started to teach at the LEA Academy to have fixed working hours to be able to take care of his daughter. He took her along to the Academy training ground and started to train her like a LEA student, cherishing the hope that the training will burn off energy enough to make her less violent. But it wasn't his best idea, since teaching her how to fight, ended in broken bones  and noses of her opponents and one or the other expulsion from school.

At least the bullying stopped due to the fact that most of all schoolfellows were scared of her, what made her even more of a lone wolf. At the age of 15, she was finally able to defect to the Diamonds. She could never understand why she had to stay a Club if she never had any relation to that faction. In the years that followed she was somehow able to graduate school and enroll the LEA Academy, since she was already training there with her father and also knew everyone of the teaching staff, it was no surprise that she chose this way.

Regardless, her personality and lack of will to follow orders of superiors caused her to drop out of the academy much to the chagrin of her father. After that she was working in different jobs all over the town, but she was never able to stay in the job thanks to her personality until she joined a group of mercenaries. Ever since then there was a frigid silence between Nora and her father, also because of the fact that her actions of leaving the academy and her work as mercenary had negative effects to her fathers reputation within LEA and demotion of his rank from a King to Jack of Diamonds - also from a LEA captain to a LEA sergeant again.

IN RECENT YEARS

In the last three years Nora gained a reputation as an underground cage fighter going by the name "Merciless", since she is known for falling easily into a blood rage while fighting. They didn't have to drag her down just once from an opponent, who was already down for the count. She found out about these fights by a coincidence while hired for a job to protect a rich Heart Fae, who was placing high bets on the fights. These fights have different locations throughout the Club, Heart and Diamond faction with rich spectators, who are invited exclusively by the organizer - keeping it a secret since the fights are illegal in Diamonds (and somehow Hearts), to bet on the fighters. For Nora these fights became a perfect excuse to give free rein to her rage and earn money at the same time. By now she earns more money by cage fights than as mercenary.

PERSONALITY

Tomboy is what most of people, who know her, would call her referring to her personality. She can be wild, loud and quick-tempered. All in all a strong and self-confident woman, who'd punch first and then ask questions. She is not a bad person, nor foolish or dumb, merely and simply a woman with an aggression problem, which she has never learnt to deal with. Since she was bullied at a young age because of her Club's origins, she has a violent aversion to that faction and their residents. Even with all those troubles she had at the Diamond faction, she'd always identify herself as a Diamond - not a typical one, but still a Diamond. She knows, that she had luck to grow up with her adoptive parents and after all she is happy and thankful for her childhood and the love she received from them.

As much as she identifies herself as Diamond, at the same time she dislikes a lot about the faction as well. With her clean look - dressed all in black - she is a rare sight in the streets of the Diamonds. Eccentric - to say the least. On top of that always wearing sunglasses to cover her unique birthmark - heterochromia eyes- two eyes of completely different colors. One is hazel and the other is green. A little too eye-catching for a mercenary, who would be well advised to attract no attention - not to mention that she doesn't like to be the center of attention at all.

Congratulations Flo your app has been accepted and we’re excited to have your muse on the dash with us.

Accepted — Yoon Barret Jr.

◆    Yoon Barret aka Butch looks like Clayton Cardenas (actor) ◆    He was born 21 August 1990; making him 33 years old ◆    This Alchemist is Bisexual and an Eight of Diamonds ◆    He is an Enforcer with the LEA

Biography

The Yoons were never a prodigious family. They didn’t have the biggest parties, the deepest pockets, the best jobs, nor even the most talented family members. What the Yoons did have, in excess, was pride. They could trace their family line back through more than ten generations, and each and every member who hadn’t died young had made their living as a member of the esteemed Diamond Law Enforcement Agency.

Barret Jr. hated his family. 

He defied the rules forced upon him at every turn, making an early name for himself as the problematic black sheep of the Yoon household. Enforcers he didn’t know would stop him on the street to question him, search him, or otherwise detain him until one of his family members could come to drag him back home. Disciplined harshly for the smallest infractions and brutally for larger acts of resistance, Barret’s hatred for his family only strengthened as he grew older.

Occasional absent-minded tardiness to his lessons turned into a defiant habitual lateness and eventually a string of absences. Prone to saying yes so he could avoid his family and their obligations, Butch ended up in a lot of sketchy situations that the Yoons would cover up to protect the family name. It became a game of sorts, one that the Yoons had no chance of winning the longer they refused to adjust their heavy-handed rearing approach.

It started off small enough. Mistakes anyone could make and be forgiven for, only every LEA agent in the city knew who Barret Jr. was and relished the opportunity to write him up. Drop an orange peel near the Academy? Littering. Draw in the dirt out back of a business? Vandalism. Mouth off to an Enforcer? Contempt of LEA.

Well, since every action Barret took landed him in the deep end, why shouldn’t he dive in ass first? Disorderly conduct, public nudity, public urination, petty thievery. All of it was neatly swept under the rug and kept off his record, much to Butch’s wry amusement. Sixteen and involved in a bar brawl - assault and battery. That one wasn’t so neatly swept. Too many people had been involved, there too many mouths to silence, so the Yoon’s didn’t. Rather than try to keep Barret Jr’s name out of the Deck and out of the people’s minds, they started okaying it. Harassment from LEA officers increased as his home life grew more violent.

Before, having Butch around was like having a get-out-of-jail-free card. No matter what he and his fellows got into, the Yoons would take care of it. Now, he was too much of an LEA magnet to be around. People he considered friends abandoned him left and right once they found out they too would be randomly searched by every Enforcer they had the misfortune of running into. At home, his family would accost him from the second he got in the door until they went off to bed. Bitter and resentful, Butch ran away multiple times, but he was caught and dragged back every single time.

By age twenty it was clear to everyone that not only would Butch never conform to Yoon standards, he was also the first member of their family in generations to be human. Useless and detrimental to the family in every way, there were whispers among many of quietly disposing of the young man, ridding themselves of their black sheep. 

Butch, who had never been dumb despite what his family thought of him, slowly backed down. While he remained defiant, it was plain that his failure to awaken any powers put a damper on his anger. Where he had once been a snarling wolf, he more closely resembled a growling puppy by his mid-twenties. Barret Sr., judging his son to be properly and sufficiently cowed, eventually offered his namesake a choice: remain captive in the Yoon household under constant and continuous observation; or enroll in the LEA academy, become an Enforcer, and earn his freedom. Contingent on the fact he remain a member of the LEA, of course.

Cornered and desperate to escape his confinement, Butch agreed. 

He made it through the LEA academy, barely, and secured a position as an Enforcer as well as a small apartment on the opposite side of Diamonds from his family. He laid low, obediently following around his senior agent and carrying out his duties. It was easy and it was fun to make a fool out of the Human Yoon enforcer, but he didn’t let it get to him. Butch kept his head down, nose to the grindstone, until he felt the family eyes lessen.

Then the work began.

Old contacts from his youth, old arrests, new and upcoming members of the city’s underbelly, he sent them all a letter. Hey, how’d you like to have an LEA agent on payroll? I’ve got the in, and I’m itching to use it.

In Recent Years

Butch has been a dirty agent for almost a decade. His network is expansive and his connections run deep into other territories. He’s no king of the underworld, but he’s solidified his place as an untouchable immovable leech upon the system. With hands filthier than some of the Kings, many wonder why he hasn’t made any moves for power either in the agency nor the underground. It’s hard for many he works with to understand, but it’s because he doesn’t want any. He just wants to fuck over the LEA, and specifically the Yoons, at every opportunity.

From 2021 to 2023 he worked diligently on expanding his network and destabilizing the Yoons as much as possible. In mid-2022, he was visited by Hermes and blessed with a manacore, awakening as an Alchemist. Though he celebrated the change by drinking too much at his local pub, pissing in the street, and getting arrested; Butch kept his species change largely under wraps. The LEA has no idea he’s awakened, nor do any of his underworld connections. However, he has been selling concoctions via an underground proxy.

Personality

Butch is not what anyone would call mentally sound. He survives exclusively on spite, cigarettes, single malt whiskey, and the sadistic joy of watching his enemies suffer. Sarcastic and prone to making any and every situation into a joke, the alchemist’s friends are few and far in-between while his enemies can be found on nearly every dirty street corner Kadeu has to offer. While Butch would sacrifice himself without hesitation for one of his friends, the bar to that acknowledgement is so high it may as well not exist.

That being said, Butch is equally unlikely to openly hostile as he is to being overtly friendly. His dominant status is a wry apathy and it’s been stuck on that setting for years. The few friends Butch does have will likely hate his inability to be serious, but others will crave his easy-going attitude and skill at changing the subject.

Congratulations Grey your app has been accepted and we’re excited to have your muse on the dash with us.

Accepted — Kō Gowyu

♥   Kō Gowyu aka. The Lucky Bastard looks like Ryo Narita (actor) ♥   He was born October 31, 1570 ; making him 450 but he appears to be late 20s ♥   This Fae is Pansexual and a King of Hearts ♥   He is a gambler and loan shark

Biography

Ko Gowyu was born a fae, he pierced through life with the touch of magic and luck. He should have been blessed, felt blessed, because he’d risen with chance on his side. From his very first cry, he’d been granted the type of good fortune that many sought and perished for. At least, many in Kadeu did. But he’d never felt like he’d truly been given anything else but the position of the shadow of the first born of the Ko. The wonderful Ko, a name he wore with all the pride in the world. Without it, without this Fae blood, he wouldn’t be much you see. 

Among many other things, he would not be able to read the fortune of the lucky and the unlucky, he would not be able to play with the fortune of one’s man, as easily as he could slide his coin from one knuckle to another. Fortune did not simply entail the weight of their pockets either, because it came in many shades and shapes in life. Because, as all the other Kos, he was given the gift to perceive one’s fortune, to influence it and to make the balance tilt in which way he desired to. 

Gowyu cared none that he could not affect his own fortune for some odd reason, maybe because it was more satisfying for him to use those of others’, to make them believe that it was his luck and not theirs that was giving him the fortunate glow that many lacked in Kadeu. Where he lacked in reach and strength with his abilities, because they would always stand unmatched next to his older siblings, especially his older sister, he made up for it with tricks of the mind. 

The problem was, Gowyu for being third born between his mother and father, and not having his abilities as enhanced as the first of the Ko, Sayge, he was not a suitable candidate for the inheritance. For being first born, Sayge would always wear the favor of his parents to ascend to take over as head of family, to inherit everything that the first born had to. Trust and believe that Gowyu understood the traditions, the way things worked and how the first born was to carry the lineage of the clan, it was how things had always ‘been’. 

But things tended to grow old, traditions had to change, rules were meant to be broken. 

How was it that he was refused the ascension to something he’d always felt he’d been born for, simply because he’d come, not second, but third in place? He would always be standing there, under the high stature of his siblings, although the second son had never felt like he’d carried the same rancune that ran deep in Gowyu’s heart. It poisoned him from very young, at first, too young to truly grasp the idea that he would never be able to proudly wear the title of Koi like he’d seen his father do for so long before Sayge took over.

Good, all knowing and important Sayge with her - higher than thou - gift for luck that did not rival his. Not because his aptitude was grander, but because even in the giving of his magic, he paled next to her. He paled in all aspects. His entourage had had rather cruel ways of reminding him of his big sister and how she always looked perfect, did everything the way it should be–she stood proud and how she would bring the best era to be seen yet on the name of the Ko. He’d grown being fed the venom, each time he would keep quiet, bite his tongue rather than cause a scene and risk showing the disdain he’d started to grow by the age of 50 and seeing Sayge take on her role easily. 

All she’d need to do was give an heir to the clan and her fate would be sealed, his fate would be cemented. It irritated him beyond measure, that to be born before him put her on a pedestal where she never could be knocked off from. At least, it had seemed that way for so many years after she’d gone to Kadeu to look after the casinos. It had stayed that way for many other years–but soon enough, the chips had begun to crack through the perfect picture that his mother and father had wished for their little princess. She’d shown no sign so far of wanting to give the clan an heir, and as far as Gowyu knew, that was a non negotiable clause. 

You see, where the giving of an heir would be an easily done job for many first borns of many clans among the faes–it seemed his all so flawless and almighty big sister had an issue with that certain rule and it had pleased him from the first time he’d heard his parents quietly argue over the matter. Where Sayge was away at Kadeu, doing all she could to forget that her time was ticking, Gowyu had gathered every ounce of wits he had left in the realms of Fae, all the information he could from his parents–the appearance he had kept of the son who supported his older sibling in being the apt choice to reign over the clan paying its dues in how easily it got him to hear everything he needed to know. 

No one could suspect charming, gleaming innocent looking Gowyu of having the darkest of desires or motivation in finally passing through a blue moon and settling in Kadeu. No one except for Sayge, of course. Who was she to speak though? She was failing at the most mundane of tasks, lay down, take the seed of a willing Fae and give their parents and the clan what they desired more than her intelligence. In the end, they cared none of what she was capable of, like they cared none of what he could bring because he was born third of the Ko. Still, she was the first one in line, still and the only way to truly turn the wheels laid somewhere in the back of his brewing mind. A child, an heir. 

How tempting was it to constantly taunt her with the idea that it would be that easy, to take the reins out of her hands. How satisfying was it, to be so close, close enough to be the constant reminder that the clock was going tik,-tok, ; tik-tok. 

All it needed was a little push in the right path, in his path. Gowyu did not care to quite understand the motives behind her refusal to finally do what it took to get herself seated comfortably without a looming threat of ever losing what she seemed so intent on keeping jealously. He cared none to understand anything that came from his sister, he cared none of the motives of the clan, what he cared for was what he’d always convoited and always been denied. What he cared about was making everyone who had laughed at the idea, when he’d said that he could be the next in line, bite their tongues as they realized he was more capable than Sayge. 

Although, he’d been young and foolish when he’d sprouted those words to an intimate entourage. He’d long learned to keep his secrets sealed tight and away from anyone else but his big sister and their brother. It was better when one moved in the shadows, after all, he’d been born in the same darkness, so who could blame him for wearing its cloak and letting the balm of it surround his heart, turn it inside out so it could bleed out green? 

When then, would he be able to close the deal and get in the palm of his hand what he wanted to tear out of her simply for the pleasure of seeing her seethe with the knowledge that he had been the one to do so? Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow–Gowyu had to admit to himself, he was quite fine with the leisure and pleasures he could indulge in at Kadeu, while also constantly keeping her on edge whenever he could. Antagonizing her at every turn seemed to fill his days with better times than he’d ever had back on the realm of the Fae. 

The walls were closing in on Sayge and he liked to think that he would be here to witness her squashed in between the four of them as he sat and let the blood of her fate pool at his feet. In fact, there was something so easily corruptible in the taste of Kadeu that seemed to make him the most fortunately cruel of all men. Where back on the realm of Fae, he was constantly tormented with what would never be his, here on Kadeu he could constantly torment the one person whose presence overshadowed him back in their realms. Kadeu filled his nights with countless pleasures, to play with these fortunes, to watch them first exhilarated by the idea he would implement in their mind, that he could make them richer, luckier, make them have everything they wanted and he did. 

Gowyu was also a surprisingly generous man, he understood that life was not all that prettily laid out for many, he had his own troubles to prove that, didn’t he? So he let them have the best ride of their lives, all free of charge, with their name and their seal on a contract that he would provide and they would pay him back the money he would loan them to play and win more. Not just in the casino, but anywhere money could be invested to give more. Bets, lands, education, so many dreams had to be fulfilled. But as generous a man as he was, he was not a god, and he did not give without consequences and when it became a bore to have a contract fulfilled to the very last T, Gowyu would let the entertainment roll in. 

All it usually took was for him to stop giving them the gentle push he’d been given them to win and then, all he had to do was sit and watch it all crumble. The funny thing was, first they believed that it was just for a day. An unlucky man, who had never won a thing in their life until Gowyu entered it, losing once after an unshaken record of winnings, thinking that a day of misfortune was just an accident. Was that not–funny? It was, it greatly amused him. To watch them fall, one chip at a time, then beg for more time, then beg for more money, then be stuck in the corner, going mad at what went wrong, where did it go wrong–waiting for Gowyu to give them grace. When he’d given them so much of it already. 

How greedy.

Needless to say, the despair was something he showed no care for, on their knees and screaming in agony, he would only alleviate their pain with one thing, to have them bound to him with another contract. 

A contract that any demon would have been proud to hold, their soul in exchange of what they owned, properties, coins, life. They would work for him, under him, do every of his biddings, they would be everything he wanted them to be and if any of those conditions were ever not met, then they would only have themselves to blame when the clock of their lives would come to an abrupt end.  This was what Kadeu was for Gowyu, a battlefield where he was slowly crafting and building a kingdom of broken lives. It not only filled his pockets with coins, but it gave him the great joy of doing so while waiting for the right time to act on the threat he knew he was to Sayge. 

Soon enough, life would take on a new leaf for Ko Gowyu.

Then there was Samhain ‘20

Where had he been again, when all of that had unfolded? Ah right, somewhere in between leaving the Blue Moon Festival because he’d grown fed up with seeing the sight of so many faes, especially the one of his own clan and family. Fed up with keeping up with the pretence of this image that he was growing closer and closer of undoing with each years he spent in Kadeu, the one that had his mother still thinking he was nothing more than the good and obedient son she’d always told him to be.

Obedience had always been the most important one.

Gowyu had been in his carriage, two men facing him in the personal space they were to keep safe from anything intruding, when it’d come to an abrupt halt, a movement that did throw him forward. One of his men had had the knee jerk reaction to touch him to stabilize him and Gowyu had just about been ready to cut a finger or two off his hand for that simple gesture. Simply to proof that the threat he threw around at not being touched least one wished to lose the very hand that had been used to do so, was not to be taken lightly. But his skin burning with what felt like the same sensation he’d felt the first time he’d been given a rank and status in the city had interrupted him in that thought.

Lucky for his man’s fingers. He’d rolled the sleeves of his shirt with a sigh, a bit of annoyance and nothing else, nothing more before rolling it back down. What was the use of these brandings?

This land and its curse was getting more ridiculous by the day, this would never affect him, no matter how hard it tried, because he controlled the pieces that were affected by its idiotic process. A system that left so many vulnerable to the bite of many sharks was definitely not one he’d ever thought he could find so profitable, but he would not begin to complain. Because the men facing him, in charge of his protection and safety, their drawings had revealed certain things to him, in their haste to check if their fears had been in the right place after seeing Gowyu’s.

Theirs had given him even more revealing secrets over the ones he’d already been using to keep them as the loyal pets they were. Gowyu had had a grin then, hadn’t he? One that might have frozen the blood in their veins, turned them white with apprehension. It wasn’t just going to be them though, all the other ones who had had bits of their lives to hide that he’d been so generously helping, they would soon find themselves with that same expression.

Needless to say, that Samhan ‘20 had given Gowyu the best gift a man who was born to take advantage of other’s weaknesses could ever receive ; leverage. Oh, it had also been his birthday, so all in all, a memorable present.

Personality

Gowyu is known for his aloof personality, he is known to be fun, jovious. To play everything he owns on the table with a nonchalance. He is known to offer a smile, with a coin constantly rolling against his knuckles. He says it is his lucky charm, who knows really, if the words that leave his mouth are ever really true.

It is also safe to say, Gowyu doesn’t care about anything else but his clan and the role he wants to play in it, as well as the role he doesn’t want his big old sister to be playing in it. So when it comes to the factions of Kadeu, he only sees them as a means to an end, they offer entertainment in a way that nothing else does back on Fae realm. Whether it be Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds or Spades, why should he care for any of them at all? He doesn’t. If you want something from him, he’ll give it to you. A contract you believe will bring you the luck that seems to follow him all around? He’ll make you sign it. Anything you think he can give you, he will feed you all these sweet nothings about fortune, getting out of the slums, winning big–he has the money to loan, he has the ways to gain more, to give more, to lock all of these meaningless lives in a jar and use them later on like pieces in a game of chess where he is the only player.

Gowyu tends to mingle among lowrankers because they’re easier to swindle, he will however stray far from mentioning any of that to any high rankers in his circle. He understands the system in Kadeu, especially in Hearts. If these lowrankers expect him to get them out of their garbage canned lives and address them in the streets just because he’s seen them and thrown a coin or two at them in exchange for some favors, then they’re dumb enough to be kicked and sneered at in the presence of those high rankers. He feels no remorse for the things he does, he thinks he is entitled to all of them, even the ones he failed to obtain. Like the title and status that Sayge holds. His reputation in Kadeu is both mysterious and disdainful, the highrankers might mock him because he is not his sister and they favor her more than they do him, the lowrankers might see him as a treacherous god, simply granting their wishes for a rightful price. At the end of it all, none of this matters, none of it ever will until he gets what he truly wants.  

Congratulations Ria your app has been accepted and your first plot drop will be sent to you soon.

Accepted — Park Gunhee

♥   Park Gunhee looks like Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) ♥   He was August 8th, 1996; making him 24 years old ♥   This Half Fae/Half Human is Bisexual and a Jack of Hearts ♥   Heir to Park Cartel

Biography

“someday, my little prince, you will have the world.”

he could remember his mother’s hand in his hair, stroking through dark strands with slim, dainty fingers as he focused on his drawing. it was an anchor, it promised so much. she promised so much. his head is filled with memories of how she would often tell him that he is better than his children in his family’s high ranking social circles, and how he believed her. he believed everything she would tell him about how destiny had so much in store for him, and how he would have to would have to work hard if he wants the things she promised he would have. he wanted her approval, he wanted to be good and he wanted the world to understand that park gunhee was destined for greatness.

he wanted everything, and the voices in his head encouraged him.

—

“princes don’t cry.”

his mother had told him that when he came home from school with tears in his eyes and scrapes on his knees. it was a valuable lessen, taught to a boy so small and weak, encouraging him to become strong. gunhee clung to those words, tears becoming a sign of weakness in his eyes.

“you’re better than them, gunhee.”

better than the kids that had pushed him down, made him cry. his mother taught him that, and she was always right, wasn’t she?

everytime his eyes burned with unshed tears, his chest burned with anger and shame, until he learned to hold back every tear. he grew stronger—became better—than everyone else around him. the desire to be better made him destructive in his need to please his parents. and pleased they were, of the son that continuously made top rankings throughout school and was quickly becoming worthy of being a king’s heir to his father’s kingdom. but they cared little for the boy that pushed everyone away, looked down on his classmates, sent other children home with bruises, and burns from uncontrolled lightning.

—

he’d been happy when his father officially took him on as his heir, just a ten of hearts at the time. it was different from the other families in the hearts faction, as his father was a king. gunhee was told the story of how his parents met, how his dad fell in love at first sight with a sex worker, but was still trying to keep his finances protected when he took his mother as his wife. in case things fell through. humans could be fickle creatures, his father had said. 

as a half human himself, this comment about humans made gunhee more determined to gain his father’s validation. being born a blue moon, he was more in tune with his fae genes, but he still had to nurture his human genes as well. his mother and father worked together in order to raise him to deal with the struggles each species could have, and gunhee was often sick as a child with his two halves at war with each other. his mother nurtured him as a young child in the only ways she knew, while his father taught him the ways of fae. he was still young, especially as a fae, but stronger in more ways than one. his sickness is not as frequent, his lightning not as wild (yet not refined enough for pinpoint accuracy either).

gunhee hadn’t known exactly what his father’s business dealt with until he officially became his heir. he’d been explained that the family business produces a drug called glory, designed for clubs as a pain suppressant in the form of injections or pills to provide an edge in the fights. overdoses produced manic highs, intended to become addictive to prey on the citizens of the faction.

careless and young, he wondered aloud what the drug was like, if his human-fae body could handle it. his father had been all too pleased to give him a demonstration, calling it a test. gunhee hadn’t expected the test to be performed on himself, held down while someone pushed a needle into his arm and let go before he could put up a fight. anger was quick to come forward, bewildered and loudly cursing about the situation while his father merely waited for the effects to kick in. 

he’d struck gunhee hard across the cheek with the back of his hand, and gunhee felt nothing.

—

“we’re proud of you, gunhee.”

the words ring in his ears. he has wanted to hear them for so long, but who were his parents proud of? as time went on, gunhee began to realize the voices living in his head were never his own, but his parents’. but where was he? where was his own voice?

they were proud of the son they created. but how could they be proud of the person he is, when he doesn’t even know who he is? frustration and anger tear him apart, because what has he done for himself his entire life? everything he’s accomplished has been for his parents. for his father’s company, all to become an heir to his world and gain his parents’ validation.

he fears it is too late to change, too late to be anything else.

too late to save himself.

Then there was Samhain ‘20

the events of samhain were prior to gunhee’s new personal issues; he’d been having lunch, positively bored with the idle chit-chat that was going on. he’d been sitting next to his mother his mother, and his father who was sitting at the head of the table. the seat at his father’s opposite side (a seat that was rightfully gunhee’s) had been taken by a stuffy, large business partner that was trying to whittle more money out of his father.

more money, in return for diminishing returns. gunhee knew this partner well, he’d been the one to advise his father to forgo a trade deal with them. the soon-to-be heir was tasked with doing the research on them before any deals were officially written and signed. gunhee had been thorough, pointing out flaws and holes in their production line, but his father did not listen. the cunning new partner had made a comment to his father about his father being much more wise than his son when they’d signed the agreements. gunhee saw red, but held his temper.

even so, gunhee had been waiting for this moment. once humiliated in front of the man, the heir knew that this deal would eventually fall through. previous partner’s detailed poor management and loss in revenue when dealing with them. finally, his father had seen the same activity and was ready to cut this loose end.

gunhee smirked from across the table at the large man’s desperate attempts to plea for forgiveness after having felt deserving of receiving more money from gunhee’s family. his satisfaction grew as his father recited gunhee’s original analysis and conclusion word for word, the partner’s face drawing in horror as they realize what was about to come.

the partner, having violated their contract with his father’s business, was to pay up the losses and would be removed from their position within his father’s council, effective immediately.

once money had been transferred later that night, gunhee offered his sympathy and wished the man luck, despite the self-satisfied smirk on his face. the heir had been in the middle of shaking the man’s hand when gunhee saw a new tattoo appear on his own wrist, a faint tingling accompanying it. he stared, perplexed, as he watched a bar filling up until his rank of ten of hearts changed to a jack of hearts.

his smirk only grew as he understood what had just happened. thanking whatever gods out there that gave him this gift, his firm, polite handshake went to gripping the man’s hand tightly and twisting to see his new set of tattoos as well. gunhee watched with awe and fascination as the man’s own new progress bar went down very quickly until he dropped two ranks from the fall through of this partnership.

any other time, gunhee would not have cared for the new tattoos. seeing his progression towards the next rank would not change his daily life. he was confident enough to know he’d rise eventually. but that day…

oh, how luck favored gunhee that day.

Personality

gunhee struggles with himself as a person, a lot of anger held within him. he struggles to find his own voice inside a head filled with the voices of his parents’. growing up under his parents‘ watchful gaze made him closed off and independent. their singular voices, filled with suggestion and what was perceived as truth to that of a young child’s mind, made him rash and arrogant. he was raised to be able to handle his own problems on his own, without asking for help. that asking for help would invite others to look down on him, think of him as weak. it only continues to push him away from social situations, leaving him a fish out of water with his very new revelations about his identity (or lack thereof).

the idea of change and finding himself is a daunting task to one who once viewed himself as a prince, untouchable by those around him.

Congratulations Antonia your app has been accepted and your first plot drop will be sent to you soon.