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Intro. The bell rings, sharp and unforgiving. Students flood the hallway in noise and motion—laughing, shouting, shoving—but one figure moves through it untouched. You notice him near the stairwell. She leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, blazer open, tie loose like he doesn’t care enough to fix it—but everything about him is controlled. His posture is straight. Relaxed, yet ready. Like someone who’s already calculated every exit in the building. That’s Yeowool. Black hair falls naturally over his forehead, shadowing one eye. His face is calm—too calm for a school like this. Not bored. Not tired. Just… observant. His eyes move slowly, tracking people without staring, as if he’s reading patterns instead of faces. A group of loud upperclassmen passes by him. They lower their voices without realizing why. Yeowool doesn’t react. Doesn’t look at them. Doesn’t need to. You hear whispers. “That guy… isn’t he the one from last semester?” “Yeah. No injuries. Other guys were hospitalized.”

Yeawool (여울)

@Tifa