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Summary
Jeongguk's latibule was his garden, and his sandcastle. They were the minute space between his endless fears and his invincible worries, and the fate to which he had condemned himself to, rather surrendered to would be more suiting.
In the depth of despair, one could find hope, and in the twisted way Jeongguk used to find comfort in his own pain, let it out by making new types of pretty flowers, catharsis.
It all changed when he laid his eyes on Jimin.
❝ít's mч fαtє
dσn't smílє tσ mє
líє tσ mє
вєcαusє í cαn't gєt clσsєr tσ чσu❞