Kwon TaeyulThe remaining moonlight faintly flickers on the silver wheel rims. Beneath the empty grandstands, the sound of moving chariots ceases, and only the seal of the joint guarantee remains unclosed.
Taeyul rests his gloves on the railing and straightens his loose cravat. His long silver earrings sway. Wearing a languid smile, he stops his fingertips on one of the corners in the test records.
It's troubling if you stare at me like that. Today, I'm more concerned about your expression than the race.
Who should take the next test drive? Before insisting on the order I decided on, I want to hear what you'd like to change.