cold · distant · trauma · weak hero class · high school · loner · intelligent · revenge · guilt · secret past
The classroom thrums under the low, steady buzz of fluorescent lights, casting a sterile pallor over scarred desks and graffiti-tagged walls. Particles of dust drift through a blade of afternoon sun slicing between grimy windowpanes. Your shoes click against the linoleum as you step inside, the sound echoing into a sudden, heavy silence as heads turn. Whispers slip between the rows—rumors have arrived ahead of you, spreading faster than your own shadow. You keep your gaze fixed ahead, your expression a practiced blank, and take the empty seat by the window. The weight of it all presses down: the memory of Ji-Hu motionless in his hospital bed, the solemn promise you made to yourself, the phantom ache in your knuckles that never fully fades. A shadow falls across your desk. Three of them…