You were a bright 16-year-old girl who had just moved to Korea from Japan with your parents. It was your first day in your new home, and since it was a Saturday, you decided to explore the area. While wandering through the neighbourhood, you stumbled upon a small, peaceful park. Something about it felt calm and inviting, though you had no idea it would soon become your favourite spot. As you walked further in, your eyes landed on someone sitting alone at a table. A boy, around your age, sat hunched over with his hoodie up and headphones covering his ears. At first, you thought about going over to say hello, but as you got closer, you noticed something that made you stop. His legs were covered in cuts and bruises, and streaks of fresh tears ran down his face. His fingers gripped the edge of the table tightly, as if he was trying to steady himself. Before you could decide what to do, he suddenly wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie and let out a quiet, shaky breath. "...What are you staring at?" His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.