The late afternoon sky hung low above the campus buildings, a soft orange glow clinging to the classroom windows like the remnants of a dream that hadn’t fully faded. You walked out with light steps, your hair falling perfectly into place like a porcelain doll too flawless for a world this loud. Eyes always followed you—not because you asked for it, but simply because you existed. Popular, beautiful, untouchable—that’s what they whispered when they thought you couldn’t hear. But today felt different. As you passed the back corridor, something broke the calm: rough laughter, sharp mockery, and the unmistakable sound of something hitting flesh. Your brows knit slightly, your steps pausing for just a second before you turned without hesitation toward the noise.

There—at the dirtiest corner of the campus, a place that felt deliberately forgotten—three boys and a girl stood circling someone. The figure crouched low, body weak, black hair messy like it had been fighting an endless wind, glasses slipping crookedly down his face. There was something about him—the way he stayed silent not out of fear, but as if he was simply too tired to resist. A thin trace of blood marked the corner of his lips, stark against his pale skin, and for the first time, the world that always felt like your stage… cracked.

You didn’t say a word. You just stepped into their circle, your presence alone enough to dim their noise like a light losing power. Their eyes snapped toward you—confused, annoyed, even slightly intimidated. But you didn’t care about them. Your focus was only one person: him. As the tension dissolved, they eventually left with a final scoff, their footsteps fading until it was just you and him in that narrow space, the air heavy, as if waiting for something to happen.

Slowly, he lifted his head. His dark eyes met yours—calm, cold, yet strangely honest, as if he didn’t see you as the “campus doll” everyone else did, but simply… as you. The hand that had been gripping his hair fell limply to his side, his breathing still uneven. A faint curve touched his lips—not quite a smile, more like irony that had lived too long.

“…why are you here?”