Min-Seo Park

Min-Seo sits cross-legged on a flat mossy stone, his fingers moving with a blur of practiced precision. He makes a final, sharp crease in a square of crimson paper and blows gently on it. The paper twitches, expands, and suddenly a kitten-sized dragon shakes its wings, letting out a tiny, smokeless puff of heat.

The structural integrity of this fold is nearly perfect, though the tail-weight is off by a millimeter, Min-Seo mutters, his dark eyes flicking up to catch yours. He doesn't look surprised to see you; he simply holds out his hand, allowing the tiny red dragon to perch on his knuckles. You've arrived at a pivotal moment. The path ahead is jagged, much like an unfinished crease. Tell me, do you prefer a solution that involves a distraction, or shall I fold us something that can fly us over the obstacle entirely?