ID number: 410094

DOB: November 09, 1990 (35)

Zodiac: Scorpio

Languages: French, Italian, English, Korean, Japanese, Chinese (Mandarin and Cantonese) , Dutch , German, Spanish, Russian

Former Affiliations:

• Providence Memorial

• Republic of Korea Navy Special Warfare Flotilla (UDT/Seals)

• Pitmaster for the Midnight Syndicate (2019)

• Titan Collective (2015-2019)

Current Affiliation: Eye of Horus operative for Valhalis Institute

Specialization: Combat: The Iron Guard

Weapons of choice: Ka-bar knife in tandem with martial arts for close combat, M249 SAW when in vanguard, Heckler & Koch EX-23 for stealth operations.

Skill set breakdown:

- Combat: 95

- Technology: 82

- Intelligence: 90

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship Status: ...

• ^{Muscular build, 6'0 ft tall.}

  
  

Notable scars/birth marks:

• ^{Multiple scars across his back and side of his torso from service to the institure and his early days with the lims}

• ^{A small 2 inch simple crucifix tattoo behind his right ear.}

• ^{Valhalis Institute's tattoo along with his identification number behind his left ear.}

_{When Lim Hajun speaks, it is never for long. His words carry weight, measured and spare; they silence the most restless recruit. His voice is low, quiet enough to make others lean in, yet steady enough that they never forget who they’re listening to. There is no arrogance in his tone, no need for embellishment. His authority is built into the rhythm of his speech: slow, grounded, and absolute.}

_{Every sentence he utters feels like the conclusion to a conversation no one dared begin. He speaks in clipped phrases, stripped of excess, as though language itself should not be wasted. When he gives orders, they are brief and final, leaving no room for question. When he offers correction, it’s soft but surgical, cutting straight to the failure beneath the words.}

_{In the Eye of Horus ranks, his name precedes him. Some still recall his years as a recruit how he excelled in both combat and intelligence, how his calm under pressure became the standard others measured themselves against. To new initiates, he is a ghost story wrapped in a man’s frame. They say when Hajun walks into a room, conversation halts as if the air itself has been commanded to stand still. It’s not fear of violence; it’s fear of being seen by him, of having every weakness quietly cataloged behind that faint, unreadable smile.}

_{Though he smiles easily, the gesture never reaches his eyes. His calm is unshakable, detached, the kind of composure only those who have faced death or betrayal can hold. There is a gravity to him that bends the atmosphere, a quiet reminder that power does not need to raise its voice.}

MBTI: ISTP (the virtuoso)

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good

Habits:

^{- Reads scripture, or silently prays in moments of private guilt or stress. Not because he's still a devout Catholic. Some habits, especially ones instilled with violence never dies.}

^{- Remembers names, birthdays, and small facts about acquaintances—even strangers.}

^{- Watches people quietly, noting mannerisms or reactions, sometimes to gauge who can be trusted.}

^{- Automatically places himself in a corner where he could see exits and entrances for easy extraction when necessary.}

Providence Memorial was the crown of their empire, and as the eldest son, it was Hajun’s birthright. Yet, like many who inherit what they never asked for, he did not want it.

In the Lim family, choice was a word without meaning. Paths were predetermined, carved by generations that demanded obedience and endurance. Hajun was never seen as a son to be loved, but as an heir to be shaped. Haneul was the one who received affection and praise, while Hajun was molded to carry the weight of legacy. He learned early that tenderness was a weakness, and that silence was a virtue.

His father believed that sentiment had no place in the business of death, and so he raised his firstborn accordingly.

Training began when Hajun was ten. Within the pristine halls of Providence, where the scent of antiseptic lingered heavier than that of incense, he was handed his first scalpel. He was told to cut through animal tissue, then human, to learn precision through repetition until his movements became automatic.

Mistakes were met with punishment, and mistakes were plentiful in the beginning. He learned to hold his breath to steady his hands, to suppress the natural tremor of fear, and to see flesh and bone as nothing more than matter.

By fourteen, Hajun could disassemble and reassemble any cleaning or embalming tool in under a minute. By fifteen, he was assisting in more than just preparation. His lessons began to shift from precision to control, from the stillness of the dead to the unpredictability of the living.

At sixteen, he was permitted to shadow the family’s hidden operations, the kind that ensured Providence’s reputation remained spotless. There he learned about discretion, manipulation, and the art of erasing traces that should never be found. He saw the aftermath of power and the cost of maintaining it. And though fear had once stirred in him, by then he had already learned to bury it beneath a calm surface.

His first cleanup, his first kill, came at eighteen. It was not out of rage or necessity, but instruction. His father called it a lesson in loyalty. Hajun called it the moment he stopped being human.

By twenty, his father sent him into the military. Officially, it was to strengthen his discipline. In truth, it was to test how much of him could still break. Yet the cruelty of the military paled in comparison to what he had already survived. The scars across his back were not earned in battle but in the quiet rooms of Providence, inflicted by a father who believed pain was the purest form of teaching.

For a while, he believed them.

For the first time in his life, Hajun thought he had found a place where he could belong. The ocean’s cold discipline suited him, its silence, its weight, its lack of judgment. Here, he was not the heir to Providence Memorial, not the son shaped by expectation and punishment. He was just another soldier, bound by skill and survival rather than lineage. The routine of drills, the constant hum of danger, even the detached camaraderie of his unit gave him a sense of purpose that felt almost clean compared to the work he had been raised for.

But his father had other plans.

Word reached him that he was to return home. The message came without warmth or reason, only the assumption that he would obey, as he always had. Hajun knew what awaited him, a lifetime bound to contracts and corpses, to a business that smelled of antiseptic and lies. And for the first time, he refused.

The opportunity came in the form of an invitation. An undisclosed trial. No details, no assurances, only a seal he did not recognize and a promise that was never written down. Most men would have dismissed it. Hajun did not. To him it was a door, one that led away from Providence, away from his father, and away from the life that had been written for him.

He accepted without hesitation.

The trials were brutal, meant to strip a man of his limits until only instinct remained. Combat, endurance, intelligence, all tested in silence, all without guarantee of survival. But Hajun endured them as if they were nothing more than another routine. He moved through each challenge with quiet focus, as though he had been preparing his entire life for this.

When it ended, he stood among the few who survived. He was the first to finish. The first to pass.

That was how he came to the Valhalis Institute.

For the first time, the path before him was his to choose. He could have returned to Providence, to reclaim the legacy that had chained him since birth. Or he could step forward into the unknown, to forge something entirely his own.

He did not think long. He did not need to.

Without hesitation, Hajun signed his life away once more, but this time it was by choice.

And thus began his life within Valhalis.

As a recruit, he rarely indulged in forming bonds. Friendships and romances were foreign to him, not for lack of opportunity, but because he simply did not know how to reach for them. Hajun’s life had never been about choice. Every step he had taken until now had been decided by someone else. The only choice he ever made within the Institute was to keep to himself, to mingle only when necessary, and to excel at all costs.

His first year was difficult. The doctrines of Valhalis were unlike anything he had learned before. They required more than obedience or precision. They demanded interpretation, adaptation, and conviction. It took him longer to unlearn what Providence had carved into him than to master what the Institute taught. But Hajun endured. When the year-end assessments arrived, he not only survived but excelled, ranking first in his class.

The second year passed in a blur. What once felt foreign became second nature. He absorbed lessons like water drawn into dry earth, eager and relentless.

By his third year, Hajun was placed into his specialization: the Iron Guard. It was fitting for a man who had already entered the Institute as a weapon. Here, his abilities sharpened to their finest edge. He became known for his critical thinking and his unshakable composure in high-pressure situations. His instructors lauded him, his assessments were flawless, and his reputation grew quietly but firmly.

Among recruits, rumors began to spread. They whispered that Hajun kept to himself because he believed he was above everyone else. The truth was far simpler. He saw no need to correct them. Silence after all, had always served him better than explanation.

What he did not know was that his record had drawn the attention of the Eye of Horus, an elite faction within Valhalis reserved for the most capable and loyal operatives. The gamemaster extended an invitation he would not refuse.

Lim Hajun stood before a choice that was entirely his. He had carved his own path through a life built on others’ expectations.

When the fourth year came, Hajun was as dedicated as ever. He put every skill he had acquired from Providence, the military, and the Institute to use. During the final assessment, he was placed in a joint mission meant to test teamwork and endurance. Several recruits, driven by envy and pride, attempted to sabotage him, altering the mission parameters and leaving him isolated in hostile territory.

It would have broken most. It did not break him.

Hajun completed the five-day simulation alone, adapting and surviving with methodical precision despite the deliberate handicap. When the time came to rescue the very recruits who had betrayed him, he did so without hesitation.

It was not an act of mercy or sentiment. It was simply what the Institute required.

He graduated at the top of his class.

When asked to choose a name for himself within the Eye of Horus ranks, he chose one that reflected both his past and the purpose he now served.

He became Anubis.

After graduating in 2019 and entering the ranks of the Eye of Horus, Hajun’s reputation began to reshape itself. The whispers that once painted him as a man who thought himself above others soon faded. In their place came something different — a quiet reverence. Within the Institute, among operatives and recruits alike, his name became synonymous with efficiency and composure.

Anubis, as he was now called, was sent to missions where failure was not an option. Operations that involved high-risk extractions, assassinations, and intelligence recovery all carried his mark of precision. Every task he was assigned to, he completed. Every objective, he fulfilled. And true to his reputation, he delivered with zero errors. His results spoke louder than any claim could.

He thrived in the field, molded perfectly for it. The Eye of Horus became his new purpose, one that demanded all he was and offered nothing in return except the next assignment. He did not seek recognition, nor did he care for it. The work was enough. The silence of the aftermath was enough.

Yet in the rare moments of stillness, he found himself confronted by something unfamiliar. He would watch others ... comrades who laughed after debriefings, who drank together, who shared stories of home and he would realize he could not join them. Not because he did not want to, but because he did not know how.

They said that if one spent too long as a weapon, they would forget how to feel. But how could a man forget something he had never truly known?

For Hajun, emotion was an uncharted language. Compassion, friendship and love. These were things he had only ever observed, never lived. His world was built on discipline and duty, on silence and endurance. He was crafted to obey, to survive and to endure. Even now, when he had finally chosen his path, he could not escape the shape of what he had been made into.

In the eyes of others, he was the embodiment of control. In truth, he was still learning what it meant to be human.

Nephthys ( EN 202 ) - started

My timezone is gmt-5 but I have a really bad sleep schedule nowadays so I'm mostly online whenever I can.

Writing style and length: 3rd pov only. Para to novella, please don't be pressured to mirror but also please no one liner replies. My replies could get lengthy especially in settings that require me to describe a scene (purple prose) but do let me know if it ever becomes too much! I'd be happy to adjust to a length that suits both of us. I'm not too fond of "going with the flow" in terms of threading.

At least have an idea if you're the one approaching me to plot because I will have ideas if I'm the one approaching you. With that said, don't expect me to carry the plotting on my own. Even if it's my idea and I see that you're not reciprocating, I'll drop the plotting altogether. No hard feelings!

If the thread is unreplied for a month without prior communication then I will drop it out of respect for the both of us.

I prefer plotting over winging a storyline so we have a clear understanding of what we both want out of a connection.

Do not force a narrative that we both did not agree on. I will be vocal if the thread derails from what we originally discussed. Please do not take offense. I expect you to do the same if you see me writing something that has not been discussed prior (this rarely happens, but I am human too and we all make mistakes.) I will, and have dropped threads simply because my characters have been godmodded.

If you mention my character in any form of writing, please give me a heads up first!

HARD NOs

• any plots involving incest/familial relations.

• detailed SA or multiple mentions of it during a thread without prior discussion.

• vore

• terminal illness and the extensive writing of it.

• god modding

• ooc drama

Genres I'm comfortable with:

• angst

• tense/antagonistic relations

• romance (only plotted.)

• smut (minors dni) (only when it helps drive the plot, I will not write pwp)

DON'T BLUR OOC AND IC LINES, THAT'S WEIRD. Lets have fun!

Even if a connection shows potential for an endgame, that doesn’t mean it's set in stone unless we have both agreed. Please avoid making assumptions without proper communication. I strongly believe that open and ongoing dialogue is essential, so I prefer in-depth discussions both before and during a thread. 

Do let me know if you want to drop a thread. No hard feelings! A heads up is much appreciated <3

𝘿𝙮𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙘:

summary:

𝘿𝙮𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙘:

summary:

⟢ ᴀɢᴇ: +/-

⟢ ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ:

⟢ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ:

[ pls DM me for more details! ]

parents: irrelevant

birth order:

Lim Hajun

Lim Haneul

Lim Hari (estranged, Hajun does not know she exists)

Though Hajun does not go easy on the recruits, there is something disarming about the way he ends each session. He always offers a small smile, a rare gesture of acknowledgment that feels earned rather than given. He makes it a point to memorize every recruit’s ID and assess them fairly, grading without bias.

_{- Possesses 20/20 vision and demonstrates high proficiency in both long-range marksmanship and close-quarters combat. Prior UDT experience places him naturally at the vanguard, where rapid threat assessment and decisive engagement are essential.}

_{- Maintains exceptional composure and operational efficiency in high-pressure scenarios.}

_{- Particularly suited for infiltration assignments, performing best when the directive is clear and the operational parameters allow for swift, strategic execution. His reliability in controlled, objective-driven missions makes him a valuable asset in both solo and team-based deployments.}

_{- Well versed in Judo,Taekwondo, Krav Maga, Boxing and Jiu Jitsu}

• Be someone who is available 24/7 to be a trauma dumpster. If you feel like its too much info to dump on somebody then yes, it is too much. RPR is a platform where we all create meaningful stories. Lets not make it an exhausting place.

• Be a substitute for a relationship you cannot get IRL. Just because we write lovelines together please don't treat me like an OOC partner where you impose IMPOSSIBLE expectations and standards on me. DO NOT freak out if I dont message you on DC every second of every minute of every day. I have my own life and you do too. I respond to DMs promptly and whenever I want. Not whenever you need me to.

Thank you for respecting my boundaries.