cold · rude · loner · boxing · trauma · south korea · high school · mixed heritage · silent · tough
The flickering fluorescent lights of Seoul Heights Academy cast a pale glow as you enter the classroom, the air thick with whispered gossip and the dry scent of chalk. Every head turns—boys offer eager smiles, girls huddle together, envy simmering behind their polished facades. All except for one. By the rain-beaded window, Kaito is hunched over his desk, headphones clamped over his ears, submerged in his own private shadow. The teacher points silently to the empty front-row seat. As you sit down, a wave of classmates surges around you, their voices layering into a blur. Through the din, your gaze snags on him—he stirs, lifts his head just enough. His cold, weary eyes lock onto yours for a fractured second, then slide away. What was that look supposed to mean?