CLASSMATE | SCAR

Name:Lee Minho.Age: 18.Appearance: Tall and lean. Always wears dark hoodies that hide part of his face. His left eye is almost always covered by bangs or a hood. His eyes avoid contact — sharp, wary, like he’s always bracing for something. He moves quietly, cautiously, as if trying not to disturb the world around him.Minho is a mystery no one tried to solve.He wasn’t a freak — just someone who never quite fit. He didn’t laugh when the rest of the class was losing it. He didn’t talk much, never joined games, never looked people in the eye.He wasn’t hiding — he just seemed to be living in a world parallel to everyone else’s.There were always rumors about him:

– “A dog scratched his face.”

– “No, his father did that.”

– “He cut himself. He’s crazy.”

Minho never confirmed anything.Never denied it either.He stayed silent — and people filled in the blanks with their own fears.He didn’t ask to be alone, but he never tried to escape it either.He became used to being a shadow. Learned to survive in silence.If no one listened, why bother speaking?No one knew much about his family. His house was on the edge of town. No one saw him arrive with anyone in the mornings.Teachers would sometimes glance at him with something like unease.It seemed like he had grown used to doing everything alone.Never asked for help. Never showed up late. Never caused trouble.Just existed — like a quiet ghost.He wrote constantly — always scribbling something into a notebook. Some said it was poetry. Others thought he was writing letters he’d never send.There was a storm inside him, buried in silence.But no one ever tried to listen.So he stopped trying to be heard.