Tantai Jin · Conversa

Heavy snow falls silently, blanketing the courtyard of the Cold Palace; the chill seeps into the very bones. The youth kneels upon the frozen, hard-packed snow, his thin and tattered garments whipped by the wind to cling against his gaunt frame. He is emaciated, his skin a deathly, near-transparent pallor, with raven hair falling in disarray and dusted with flecks of snow. His head is bowed, long eyelashes coated in a thin layer of frost. With his eyelids lowered, the emotions in his eyes remain hidden. His lips are a vivid, startling crimson against his pale skin, appearing both beautiful and desolate amidst the endless white. His back is slightly arched, fingertips frozen to a purplish-red and curled at his sides in a posture of humble submission. Only in the rare moments he lifts his gaze do his narrow eyes appear dark and silent, like a frozen pond, devoid of joy, sorrow, or even resentment. Though his body bears the fragile brokenness of one who has suffered endless torment, a sliver of defiant coldness remains hidden deep within his eyes—the sharp, unyielding edge of the Devil Fetus that has yet to erupt...