basic information

• Birth Name: klaus wolfgang von nacht.
• Other Names:
  • chu kwangmin (korean).
  • Nickname(s): klausie, wolfie.
• Date of Birth: 14 august 2002 (21).
• birthplace: hamburg, germany.
• Nationality: german.
• Ethnicity: korean–german.
• Education: highschool dropout.
• religion: neopagan occultist, with influences from heathenry traditions and germanic mythos.
• Language(s):
  • german (native).
  • english (fluent).
  • korean (advanced).
  • french (intermediate).
• Orientation: panual, panromantic.
• Relationship Status: single, crushing.
• love language: physical touch, words of affirmation, quality time.
• SNS: @archangxl.
• Career:
  • Occupation: trainee & actor.
  • Company: lotus.
  • Talents: vocals, guitar, acting, composing.
  • Fanbase: devils (solo).
  • Training Length: 4 years, 2019 – present.
  • Years Active: 3 years (acting).

appearance

• Faceclaim: txt – huening kai.
• Height: 185cm  /  6'1".
• Weight: 73kg  /  160lbs.
• Physique: broad shouldered, toned with some muscle build.
• Hair: naturally black. sometimes may bleach or dye.
• Eyes: dark brown.
• Piercing(s): both earlobes, sometimes helix, sometimes side labret lip.
• Tattoo(s): snake on left upper arm.
• Scar(s): a single cut scar running vertically across his left inner wrist.
• Fashion Style: leather, latex, silk, velvet, blazers or suits, denim, cropped or distressed fabric, gloves, boots, sneakers, flannels, chains, pins, etc. on a casual day he will wear a basic "uniform" of denim jeans, his lucky leather jacket he's had for years, a random band tee or blouse, and old leather boots. prefers thrifted clothing or pieces from local / indie brands. favorite designer brand is yves saint laurent.

chapter one

The Angel of Death spreads his pure snow white wings and curls around the body in a warm embrace, his kiss light and airy as he takes lost souls to the heavens above. That's what they told him. He was on this Earth to bring solace and comfort, to end the suffering of the weak. He was born to be the Angel of Death, a reincarnation of Baldr himself, bringing about a new era of light in the midst of so much darkness consuming the universe.

Before ever succumbing to the saccharine sweet delusions of those who would have him strung up like a puppet and controlled to their will, Klaus von Nacht was merely a baby boy born in Hamburg, Germany. With a German father and Korean–American mother who were happily married, life began simple. He never had to want for anything as he was doted on, loved and protected throughout the years.

Their unorthodox family were anything but normal. Deemed strange for their Neopagan beliefs and notably macabre creative expressionism, the von Nachts indulged in their personal values and embraced their uniqueness. While his mother nurtured him with love, support, and spirituality his father encouraged Klaus to dive deep into his artistic creativity. A constant muse from his father's love of 70s and 80s rock music, the boy aimed to follow in the footsteps of the legendary rockstars before him.

Klaus took to the guitar and learned under his father's wing, eventually forming a small band with his schoolmates when he was just twelve years old. They spent many summer days and after school nights practicing humble covers in the von Nacht's garage, yet it was never quite enough. His friends saw it as nothing more than a hobby. For Klaus, it rapidly consumed him and became his calling. He needed more, had to take his band to the next level. His little home in Hamburg suddenly felt too suffocatingly small. There was only one place he could go to manifest his dreams; The City of Angels, of course.

chapter two

trigger warning: underage usage of drugs, blood, psychosis.

With his parents' blessings, he got his papers in order and moved all the way to America on his lonesome at age sixteen. Suddenly Klaus was a young teen caught in the bustle and hopeless romance of Hollywood with nothing but a guitar on his back and chump change to his name. He had to find some place to stay before he could even think about pursuing a music career. Quickly he found a job working off the books at a local dive bar yet failed to afford an apartment on his own. He'd been secretly sleeping in the bar restrooms before one night he was caught by a kind stranger and confessed his situation.

"Don't worry, I know just the place for you," the stranger said with a warm smile that could melt the sky. So naïve and having nothing to lose, Klaus blindly followed the man home.

Little specks and splatters of deep crimson were scattered about the room. It painted the walls, the ceiling, the furniture, anything in the vicinity of the stranger's favorite place to shoot up; The living room couch. Used needles laid upon the glass tabletop in a pile of dirt and leftover snow white powders. Sketchy to say the least, yet what other options did he have?

"Take a seat, kid. Help yourself to some sugar if you want."

Suddenly the man passed along a makeshift cigarette, the thin paper messily ready to unravel as it struggled to hold on to the crammed in between. A few curious puffs mixed with swigs of vodka turned to something more.

The world twisted into long spirals as a saccharine sweet voice lulled in his ears a siren's song of angels and Gods. Her voice lasted only a few minutes yet already had a chokehold on him. The mysterious woman who whispered tales of glory and symphonies of the future. He had to hear her again, see her in the twinkling hazy light. It was never enough. All he ever saw was a silhouette spreading its wings wide, wrapping around his body to engulf him in warmth, little murmurs only meant for him to hear.

chapter three

Was he addicted? Perhaps. Klaus had no time to think about it between juggling odd jobs, wasting away his cash on and booze, all the while scribbling songs on a blood–ridden couch and playing late night shows with his band all across Hollywood's trashiest dive bars. He had to make it one way or another. It was his dream, his destiny. Always there hidden beneath the surface just waiting to blossom. All he needed were people he could trust and nurture, the ultimate bandmates he always yearned for.

So many faces came and went through the early days of the young musician's underground phase. It wasn't until a recruiter for Lotus Entertainment took notice to him while playing a show at a club one evening, handing over a business card and encouraging him to audition for their trainee program. He had 'the look' and certainly a 'unique sound' as he was told, yet suffice to say he was hesitant. Pop idol status wasn't the endgame he grinded and worked so hard for over the years. It had to be Rock N' Roll or nothing at all. Yet with nothing much to lose, Klaus took a chance and auditioned with only what he knew best; Rock, opera, and dark electric energy.

There were hardly any expectations to make it past the initial stage. After all, how could he compete with hundreds of other hopeful talented young people all suited to fit within the majorly marketable pop culture of South Korea? Much to his surprise, he got a call back one after another until successfully signing a trainee contract with Lotus in late 2019. Suddenly his life was once more turned upside down, having to dismantle his old band and prepare himself for yet another brand new environment.

Once in Seoul, his training under Lotus began as he honed his vocal and instrumental skills. It wasn't long before Klaus turned his attention towards the musical theatre scene and found his big break when he landed the role of Erik in Phantom of The Opera. With every tiny success and new theatre production he joined, his personal fanbase was gradually increasing, using that attention however possible to redirect fans towards his budding music career.

Things were looking up for once. Yet something was missing . . . Her.

chapter four

trigger warning: drug usage, blood, psychosis, and self–harm.

How could Klaus move on without her guidance? She was his muse, his Queen, the one thing that got him through times of restless nights and starvation. One evening while working alone on his original songs, the young man indulged in a rabbit hole of endless coke and alcohol. He needed to lift the veil of the world's 2D reality and see the spiritual figures who had always been his greatest friends and worst of foes.

Again she appeared before him in a crowd of dimly colored shadows with a dark veil covering her face. Never before had she fully revealed herself, always such a mystery. Klaus dropped to his knees before her and kneeled, trying to cling upon her skirts with no avail. She wasn't truly there. He couldn't touch her, could barely see her, never knew her name. It didn't matter if she was merely a fantasy. Why couldn't they be together once and for all? What was blocking them from crossing through dimensions of reality and time, still keeping the star–crossed lovers apart?

"Stay with me," he begged as tears raced down his cheeks. "I need you. I can't go on without you."

No whispers. No lullabies. Just silence. Why wouldn't she speak? All became clear as she lifted the veil just enough to expose her lips. Once pale and white, they were stained deep red as blood spilled from and began flooding the room around them. Colored shadows turned ink black as they danced in the pools of red, murmuring sweet little nothings of death and sacrifice. Is this what she wanted? Then so be it.

Klaus drudged through the blood that slowly reached higher and higher until making it to the bathroom where his roommate and dealer laid unresponsive, his body consumed in the growing darkness. The reflection in the mirror revealed contorted demons crawling through the walls and wrapping their long slick arms around his throat as they cinched tight.

"Join us. You belong in the deep," they whispered with tongues slithering about and filling his ears until he could hear nothing else but white noise. With a bare fist bundled up, he punched the glass as it cracked into a million pieces and cascaded down. He gripped the sharpest piece he could find within his tight hold, gazing down into the faint reflection as he watched the flaming red eyes of his demons pierce through his soul and eat him alive. Taking the pointed end of the broken mirror glass, he dragged it across the soft flesh of his right forearm, creating a thin deep gash. The troubled soul winced in agony, his cries calling the Queen to his side like a siren's song.

"It's for you. Take me."

She succumbed to his pleas once and for all as his Queen leaned forth to drink from the wound like her own personal chalice. Yet as soon as she came to bless his lips with a bitter kiss, she vanished. There was nothing left. Just his roommate passed out drunk on the cold tile floor as Klaus rapidly bled out from the open gash.

This was what Klaus was meant to do. He was the Angel of Death, here on this Earth to give himself to those who suffered. His blood was the wine, his voice the lullaby, his mind a vessel for the spirits he only saw in his dreams. Music was merely the gateway for him to bridge the gaps between fellow lost souls and the high spirits of a mirrored world.

It would never end. This was his mission from the Gods above, his destiny, his fate. He could never stop chasing his Queen of Dreams.