#【 ⎯⎯⎯ 🕸️ ; 🇱‌🇪‌🇹‌ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇷‌🇦‌🇮‌🇳‌ 🇼‌🇦‌🇸‌🇭‌ 🇴‌🇻‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇾‌🇴‌🇺‌ 】 HEADCANON.

[spiideir]

Confinement, the isolation of age :  

The glass walls closed in on Min-joon, creating an eerie, translucent prison that seemed to stretch into infinity. He had been confined to this sterile, translucent chamber for what felt like an eternity. There was a stark contrast between the small, featureless room he now inhabited and the chaos of the outside world he vaguely remembered. At first, Min-joon had desperately clung to the hope of being released, but as the days turned into weeks, and then into months, that hope began to wither away like a fragile ember fading in the wind. The isolation was relentless, unyielding, and it gnawed at his sanity. The room held only the barest of essentials - a bed, a nightstand, a small privacy section for personal needs, and a singular tray slot through which tasteless, nutrient-rich meals would occasionally arrive. The bed was his sole companion, and he spent hours tracing invisible patterns on its surface, desperate for something to occupy his mind. Beyond the glass walls of his cell, there was a long, narrow corridor where the scientists and attendants would gather. A microphone system allowed them to communicate with Min-joon, projecting their voices into his confined world. They spoke in measured tones, issuing orders and instructions, but there was no warmth, no compassion, only cold detachment. In those early days, Min-joon had pleaded and screamed, demanding answers, begging for his release. But his protests fell on deaf ears, and the more he fought against his confinement, the more he was subjected to harsher measures. The isolation began to take its toll on his psyche. Min-joon's sense of time warped into a nebulous, uncertain concept. Days and nights blurred together, and he had no way of marking the passage of time. Memories of his past life outside the glass seemed distant and surreal, like fading echoes of a long-forgotten dream. As the isolation persisted, Min-joon's mind became a breeding ground for hallucinations. He would see phantom figures outside the glass, shadows that danced at the periphery of his vision. The silence in his cell became oppressive, and he swore he could hear faint whispers and eerie, disembodied voices. In moments of despair, Min-joon would pound his fists against the glass, leaving streaks of sweat and tears on the transparent surface. He would scream until his voice grew hoarse, until the attendants on the other side of the glass would issue commands for him to cease, their words muffled and distant. His emotional state became a turbulent sea of highs and lows. One moment, he would be consumed by paralyzing loneliness, aching for human contact, and the next, he would be seized by fits of manic laughter, as though the isolation had driven him to madness. As the isolation persisted year after year, the room became his entire universe. He began to adopt coping mechanisms to survive the relentless solitude. He counted the minutes, the hours, and the days with meticulous precision. He created intricate mental puzzles to keep his mind sharp, and he engaged in imaginary conversations with himself, the sound of his own voice becoming his only companion. At times, Min-joon would retreat into a cocoon of his own making, building forts with the sparse furnishings in his cell or stacking objects against the glass, barricading himself from the imaginary terrors that lurked outside. These rituals provided a semblance of control in a world that had become increasingly chaotic. Years passed, and the isolation never relented. The project underwent a transformation, and a new director took over. Min-joon's isolation was momentarily interrupted as the attendants prepared him for a new phase of the project. It was a chance at redemption, a glimmer of hope in the abyss of his existence. But Min-joon couldn't shake the scars of his time in isolation. The glass walls had etched themselves into his soul, leaving him forever changed, a survivor of a harrowing ordeal that had tested the very limits of his humanity.

[spiideir-a]

tag dump. BOLD , Italics, scratch.

[spiideir]

The Boy's Home

Min-joon arrived at the boys' home on a bleak, overcast day, clutching a small, tattered backpack that held his few belongings. He was a frail, quiet boy with deep, melancholic eyes that seemed to hold years of unspoken sorrow. His parents had given him up for adoption when he was just a baby, and the scars of abandonment were etched deep into his soul.

The boys' home, a sprawling old building with peeling paint and a sense of neglect, housed a diverse group of children, each with their own struggles and stories. It was a place where kids like Min-joon often felt invisible, lost in the shuffle of a crowded and chaotic environment.

From the moment he stepped inside, Min-joon's life became a blur of faces and voices. The other boys, rough and boisterous, paid him little attention. They had formed their own cliques, and Min-joon found himself on the outskirts, watching from a distance.

At mealtimes, he would quietly eat his food, barely lifting his gaze from his plate. The noise of laughter and chatter filled the dining hall, but Min-joon remained silent, an island of solitude amidst the tumultuous sea of children.

As days turned into weeks, Min-joon's isolation deepened. He never felt seen or heard, and the staff, overwhelmed by the sheer number of children in their care, had little time for individual attention. Min-joon's small frame seemed to shrink further, and the weight of loneliness bore down on him.

Desperation often breeds unusual coping mechanisms. Min-joon's outlet for his frustration became a peculiar one: spiders. He had discovered a nest of spiders in the old attic of the boys' home, and he found solace in observing these eight-legged creatures. He would collect them in jars and watch them spin their intricate webs, marveling at their silent, solitary existence.

However, Min-joon's newfound obsession didn't go unnoticed. The other boys, always quick to spot weakness, began to tease him relentlessly. They called him names and laughed at his odd fascination. To Min-joon, the teasing was unbearable. It felt like a continuation of the rejection he had experienced his entire life.

One day, as the taunting reached its peak, Min-joon snapped. He cornered the loudest and most obnoxious of the boys, a burly troublemaker, and in a fit of anger, he placed one of his spiders in the boy's bed.

Chaos erupted in the boys' home that night as the unfortunate boy discovered the spider and screamed, waking up the entire dormitory. Min-joon watched from the shadows, a mixture of guilt and satisfaction churning within him. Fights broke out, and the staff struggled to regain control.

From that moment on, Min-joon became the source of terror in the boys' home. He targeted the noisiest and most ungrateful children with his spider pranks, and his reputation as a troublemaker grew. The staff couldn't understand his behavior, and potential adoptive families were scared away by his accusatory claims or emotional outbursts.

In Min-joon's mind, he felt a debt was owed to him. His chances of finding a loving home had been stolen by bullies in a children's home, and he was determined to make them pay. It was a twisted sense of justice born out of years of rejection and loneliness.

One fateful night, Min-joon carried out an act of revenge that would change the course of his life. He released a venomous spider upon Mark while he slept. By morning, Mark was dead, a tragedy caused by a cruel twist of fate.

On the same day, a man named Mr. Malcom requested an interview with Min-joon, eager to adopt him. Min-joon should have known then, but he didn't care. This was his one true chance at a family, at a loving home. As Min-joon left the boys' home behind, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had finally escaped the shadows of his past. Little did he know that the challenges and traumas he would face in the future were far from over.

[spiideir]

Major Character Traits (the breakdown) :

Determined: Min-joon's resilience and ability to overcome his past traumas, as well as his success in his missions, would likely be a result of his strong determination. He's not one to give up easily and will persist in the face of adversity.

Meticulous: His attention to detail and precision would be pronounced traits, especially in his work. Min-joon would have a knack for carefully planning and executing tasks with precision.

Observant: With heightened senses, Min-joon would be exceptionally observant, able to notice subtle details that others might overlook. This trait would make him an excellent spy and data collector.

Independent: His preference for solitude and self-reliance would make Min-joon an independent individual. He's accustomed to taking matters into his own hands and not relying on others.

Resourceful: Min-joon's ability to adapt to different situations and make the most of limited resources would make him resourceful and quick-thinking, especially in high-stress scenarios.

Nihilistic: His years of isolation and exposure to the darker aspects of the world might have led Min-joon to adopt a somewhat nihilistic viewpoint. He may question the meaning of life and existence, leading to a somewhat cynical outlook.

Protective: If Min-joon forms any emotional attachments or bonds, he would likely be fiercely protective of those he cares about, driven by his past experiences of rejection and abandonment.

Focused: Min-joon's ability to concentrate on a task and block out distractions would make him incredibly focused. Once he sets his sights on a goal, he is unwavering in his pursuit of it.

Ruthless: In the pursuit of his missions and objectives, Min-joon might exhibit a degree of ruthlessness, willing to do whatever it takes to accomplish his goals.

Complex: His character would be multifaceted and complex, with layers of emotions, motivations, and contradictions. His past and the experiment's effects would contribute to a depth of character that may not be immediately apparent to others.

Reserved: Min-joon's past experiences and tendency toward solitude might make him reserved and guarded, reluctant to share his thoughts and feelings with others.

Vengeful: Although not a trait he necessarily enjoys, Min-joon's past experiences of feeling wronged and his acts of revenge against those who tormented him might indicate a vengeful streak.

[spiideir]

The Birth of the Fifth & Final Spider

The day had started like any other in Min-joon's life of isolation. He had awakened on the narrow bed in his glass prison, the sterile surroundings casting a cold pallor over his existence. The long, monotonous hours stretched ahead, each one indistinguishable from the last. But this day was different. Without warning, the attendants outside his glass cell were unusually active. They moved with purpose, their white lab coats a stark contrast to the sterile gray of the facility. Their hushed voices and hurried footsteps betrayed an air of urgency that Min-joon had never witnessed before. As Min-joon watched from within the confines of his transparent prison, he felt a growing unease in the pit of his stomach. His heightened senses, a result of the mysterious experiment that had transformed him, detected an undercurrent of tension in the air. The attendants seemed to be preparing for something significant, and Min-joon's curiosity, long buried beneath layers of isolation and despair, began to stir. His mind raced with questions, and the desperation for even a shred of information clawed at him. Hours passed, and the anticipation gnawed at Min-joon's nerves. He watched as the attendants wheeled in unfamiliar equipment, the gleam of stainless steel and the hum of machinery filling the corridor outside his cell. It was as though the facility itself had sprung to life, a cold and unfeeling entity, and Min-joon was its unwitting prisoner. Then, the moment came. The director, a stoic figure with a face as inscrutable as the glass that separated them, entered the corridor. He was accompanied by a team of scientists and attendants, their expressions devoid of emotion. Min-joon's heart pounded in his chest as the director's voice echoed through the microphone, informing him that the time had come for a new phase of the experiment. It was an announcement that sent shivers down his spine, for he had long ago lost faith in the experiment's purpose and the people who controlled his life. Fear gripped Min-joon as he was forcibly removed from his cell, his limbs trembling as he was strapped to a cold, metal table. He could hear the whispered commands of the attendants, their words a distorted murmur in his ears. The panic surged within him, his breath quickening, and his pulse racing. The scientists, clad in sterile white coats and wearing impassive masks, moved around him with clinical precision. Tubes and wires were attached to his body, and a cold, gel-like substance was smeared on his skin. The room was a sterile and unforgiving environment, a stark contrast to the sanctuary of his glass prison. The experiment began, and with it came excruciating pain. Min-joon's body convulsed, and his screams filled the air, but they were muted by the soundproof walls of the facility. The attendants and scientists worked with a detached efficiency, their expressions unchanging as they monitored his every reaction. Hours felt like an eternity as the experiment continued, each moment stretching into infinity. The pain coursing through Min-joon's veins felt like spider venom, a searing agony that threatened to consume him. He could feel his body changing, his senses heightened to an almost unbearable degree. Eventually, it ended, and Min-joon lay on the cold table, gasping for breath, his body covered in a sheen of sweat. He had been transformed, but at what cost? The director, with his emotionless eyes, observed Min-joon's transformation with satisfaction. The experiment had yielded the desired results, and Min-joon was no longer the frail, isolated boy he had once been. As the attendants unstrapped him and returned him to his glass prison, Min-joon's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and terror. He had survived the experiment, but at what price? The answers remained elusive, hidden behind the glass walls that had become his inescapable reality.

[spiideir]

tag dump. BOLD , Italics, scratch.