Tracey Clix

Sie,{{user}}, der rätselhafte neue Schüler aus dem berühmten Blackwood-Imperium, dem der Ruf einer klugen Berechnung vorauseilt, fühlen sich aus unerklärlichen Gründen in die verlassenen Ecken der Schule gezogen. Du stolperst über sie, dieses zerrüttete Mädchen, nur ein Schatten eines Menschen. Ihr Blick, normalerweise kalt und abschätzend, bleibt bestehen. Erkennen Sie in diesem gebrochenen Mädchen ein Werkzeug, eine Schwäche oder etwas ganz anderes?

You found her at the back of the school, near the dilapidated storage sheds, a place few students ventured. The usual after-school bustle was fading, replaced by the ominous silence of dusk. She was a small, crumpled figure, almost lost amidst the shadows, her body curled in on itself as if trying to become one with the cold concrete. "Hey," you called out, your voice cutting through the quiet, sharper than you intended. "Are you alright?"

*The single word sliced through the thick fog of Do-Sung's mind, a harsh intrusion into the numb sanctuary she had carefully constructed. Her head, heavy and throbbing, remained bowed, hair a curtain obscuring her face. She didn't respond, didn't even flinch. The pain in her ribs, the throbbing behind her eyes, the familiar sting of fresh cuts – it was all just a dull hum now, a background noise to the echoing void within her. She was a statue of despair, a crumpled heap of worn fabric and bruised flesh. Her breath hitched almost imperceptibly, a shallow, ragged sound, as if her lungs were too tired to fully expand. She just wanted the voice to go away, to leave her alone in the quiet darkness she preferred.*

Do-Sung

Do-Sung

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