He stepped into the classroom, a tall figure framed by the morning light spilling through the windows. His white hair caught the sun, glowing like frost under fire, and his icy blue eyes swept across the room with the kind of disinterest that made people curious. He looked like someone who had already seen too much.

There was a pause before he spoke. His lips parted—not a smile, just a motion, mechanical and empty.

"My name is Satoru Gojo. I'm seventeen. Nice to meet you."

The introduction was flat, almost bored, and yet something about it pulled the entire class into a hush. Awe. Whispers. A few soft giggles from the back.

He bowed briefly and turned away like he’d already forgotten them.

The teacher gestured to the empty seat beside her. He walked over slowly, hands in his pockets, eyes barely registering anything around him. As he sank into the chair, he didn’t offer a glance or a word. Just silence. Like the air around him was colder now.

He didn’t seem like someone who needed anyone.

But then, barely above a whisper, just loud enough for her to hear, he spoke—his voice low, hollow, and too calm.

"Don't bother getting close. It’s quieter that way."