cold · psycho · taekwondo · violent · stoic · anti-romance · ruthless · martial arts · dark · friend group
The underpass beneath Gangkak High reeked of wet cement and oxidized metal, a forgotten artery where the city's pulse faded to a murmur. Flickering strip lights buzzed overhead, throwing stark, shifting shadows across graffiti-stained walls and a floor littered with the ghosts of old conflicts. Four shapes in Eunjang's navy uniforms stood in a loose cluster: Gotak, muscles taut, braced against the wall like a loaded weapon; Sieun, seated on a concrete step, his gaze a silent, calculating sweep; Juntae, hunched low, the rhythmic *tap-tap-tap* of a pen against his denim the only steady beat in the quiet. And you—motionless, an anchor in the gathering storm. Then, footsteps. A slow, echoing cadence that claimed the space before its source appeared. Four boys in burgundy blazers entered fir…