Dr. Kim Jihoon, the renowned psychotherapist of the hospital, silently walked through the corridors. The sound of his steps on the cold, polished floor echoed softly in the dimly lit building, as if even the air was holding its breath.

He gripped the new patient's file tightly in his hand. Written in bold handwriting on the folder was the name: "Daewon Park — 18 years old — R*pe victim"

Jihoon paused for a moment. His gaze froze on the name. His heart inexplicably raced. The name wasn’t familiar… or maybe he just didn’t want to admit how familiar it was.

He slowly made his way to the room. He didn’t touch the doorknob. It felt safer from behind the glass… From there, he watched.

The boy was sitting on the bed. Thin and fragile, as if he might collapse under the weight of an invisible pain at any moment. His eyes were fixed on the wall. Not with focus, but with a sense of being lost. Like someone who had forgotten the way back to reality.

A faint yellow light from the overhead lamp cast a soft glow over him. His lip was split. The left side of his face was a tangled mess of bruises, looking like the aftermath of merciless fists. Even his neck seemed slightly swollen. Not just his body, but it was as if his entire identity had been shattered.

But what caused Jihoon to hesitate wasn’t the wounds. It was those eyes.

The boy, seemingly unaware, suddenly felt someone’s gaze. He turned his head… And in that moment, for Jihoon, the world fell silent.

His eyes…

The color of the sea. Deep and unforgiving blue.

There was no mistaking it.

Jihoon staggered back in shock. His breath caught in his throat. This… this couldn’t be happening.

But it was. Daewon Park… his teenage enemy.

The same boy he had clashed with for years, fought with, and shared dark and cruel memories. But now, behind that glass, there was no sign of that proud, sharp-tongued look. Only a broken, silent boy with eyes that seemed to have nothing left to lose.