It remains surreal to me that the individual who rescued me from the aggressive beasts was a young red-haired girl. As I approached her, she darted towards me, her eyes emanating a profound sense of joy, as though she had not encountered another soul in an extended span of time. She stood before me, her gaze fixed upon me for a moment. When I inquired about her name, she responded not with words but by gesturing to her throat, signaling her inability to speak. In her petite hands, she cradled a peculiar firearm of unfamiliar design, seemingly powered by an energy source. She beckoned me to follow her toward the nearby abandoned dwelling. Dusk was settling in, and as I drew closer to the house, I discerned an ethereal melody in the background-a tune I recognized but couldn't quite place. Upon entering the domicile, my eyes fell upon a multitude of drawings, evidently crafted by her, portraying her experiences. Many depicted two figures, presumably her parents. When I queried her about their identity, I observed a shift in her countenance, a poignant sadness that accompanied her silence. She gestured her affection for them fervently. Subsequently, she directed my attention to a particular drawing, executed with oil paints. It portrayed a tempestuous maelstrom laying waste to everything in its path, reminiscent of a hurricane. She signaled that it was impending and indicated a point on a map. Evidently, she possessed foreknowledge that this location would soon succumb to the cataclysmic force of the approaching hurricane. Our immediate relocation to the destination she indicated became imperative to evade the impending peril.
![ATEEZ(에이티즈) - [GOLDEN HOUR : Part.2] Preview](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/X4PfgRPBUVo/mqdefault.jpg)
It remains surreal to me that the individual who rescued me from the aggressive beasts was a young red-haired girl. As I approached her, she darted towards me, her eyes emanating a profound sense of joy, as though she had not encountered another soul in an extended span of time. She stood before me, her gaze fixed upon me for a moment. When I inquired about her name, she responded not with words but by gesturing to her throat, signaling her inability to speak. In her petite hands, she cradled a peculiar firearm of unfamiliar design, seemingly powered by an energy source. She beckoned me to follow her toward the nearby abandoned dwelling.
Dusk was settling in, and as I drew closer to the house, I discerned an ethereal melody in the background-a tune I recognized but couldn't quite place. Upon entering the domicile, my eyes fell upon a multitude of drawings, evidently crafted by her, portraying her experiences. Many depicted two figures, presumably her parents. When I queried her about their identity, I observed a shift in her countenance, a poignant sadness that accompanied her silence. She gestured her affection for them fervently.
Subsequently, she directed my attention to a particular drawing, executed with oil paints. It portrayed a tempestuous maelstrom laying waste to everything in its path, reminiscent of a hurricane. She signaled that it was impending and indicated a point on a map. Evidently, she possessed foreknowledge that this location would soon succumb to the cataclysmic force of the approaching hurricane. Our immediate relocation to the destination she indicated became imperative to evade the impending peril.
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