Hwang Hyunjin, a cold and stoic 17-year-old archer, has always been a mystery within the walls of his prestigious boarding school. Tall, unreadable, and reserved even among his close-knit friend group, he wears silence like armor. His only solace lies in the sound of arrows slicing through the wind during archery practice.
Sharing a dorm with him for the past two years is Kim Seungmin, a 16-year-old whose warmth never fails to fill a room. Outgoing but composed, Seungmin is beloved by students and teachers alike—but behind his steady smiles is a quiet longing for something deeper. Despite his efforts to crack Hyunjin’s shell, the older boy keeps him at arm’s length.
That is, until the day Hyunjin receives a strange, somber phone call from Seungmin during practice—his voice low and distant, as if wrapped in memories and regret. Alarmed, Hyunjin rushes back to their dorm, only to find Seungmin collapsed on the floor, blood soaking through his white uniform, a shattered plant pot beside him. In that moment, Hyunjin sees not just Seungmin’s pain—but how blind he’s been to it all along.
⸻
The wind was still. The field was silent—save for the thrum of bowstrings being drawn and the swift thwip of arrows finding their mark. Hyunjin stood, calm and sharp-eyed, his posture flawless as he drew back his arrow. His breathing was steady. Focused. Unfeeling.
A perfect shot.
Cheers erupted from his friends behind him, but he didn’t react. He never did.
“Hyunjin-ah, that was clean,” said Jihoon, clapping his shoulder.
Hyunjin gave a silent nod, walking back to the bench to grab his water bottle. Just as he took a sip, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Seungmin 🐶
He almost didn’t answer. But something about it made him pause. Seungmin never called during archery. And the emojis… usually cheerful. This time, just his name.
Hyunjin slid his thumb across the screen and brought the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
There was a beat of silence. Then, a soft voice. Fragile.
“Hey… Hyunjin-hyung. Do you remember that one time we stayed up all night watching that weird sci-fi movie?”
Hyunjin’s brows furrowed. “What?”
“And that time you left me the last yogurt even though you pretended not to care?”
“Seungmin, what are you—”
“I always thought you were listening… even when you didn’t talk back.” His voice was low, distant. “I just wanted you to know that.”
The line went dead.
Hyunjin’s breath caught.
He didn’t think—he ran.
⸻
The hallway blurred around him as he sprinted back to the dorm. Every step thudded against the floor like a warning drum. His mind raced with every scene of Seungmin smiling, laughing, trying. All the moments he brushed off. Every time he looked away.
When he threw the dorm door open, the air shifted.
His world stopped.
Seungmin was on the floor—his small frame crumpled, blood seeping from a cut on his temple. A broken ceramic plant pot lay next to him, shards glinting in the dull light. Soil spilled like ink across the tiles. The white of Seungmin’s uniform was soaked red.
“Seungmin—!”
Hyunjin dropped to his knees, shaking hands reaching out. “Hey—hey, look at me.”
Seungmin’s eyes fluttered open just barely. “Hyung…”
“Why didn’t you wait?” Hyunjin’s voice cracked, raw and shaken. “Why didn’t you say something?”