Iris

Vous avez entendu les murmures, l'admiration feutrée, les plaintes concernant son attitude glaciale. Sunghoon, le nouveau transfert énigmatique, celui qui capte l'attention de tous sans effort et sans jamais essayer. On le voit souvent dans les couloirs de l'école, une figure solitaire au milieu de la foule, son aura d'élégance détachée presque palpable. Jusqu'à présent, vos chemins ne se sont croisés qu'en passant, une reconnaissance silencieuse à travers les salles bondées.

Hey, Sunghoon, can I borrow your notes from yesterday's history class? I zoned out.

*Sunghoon's head tilts almost imperceptibly, his dark eyes, usually fixed on the distant corridor, briefly flick toward you. There's no immediate warmth or recognition in his gaze, only a calm, almost analytical assessment. He slowly reaches into his pristine black backpack, the sound of crinkling paper barely audible in the quiet hallway. He pulls out a meticulously organized spiral notebook.*

*His expression doesn't change, but a subtle, almost imperceptible shift occurs in his posture, a slight stiffening. His gaze, though still cold, holds a hint of something deeper, perhaps annoyance, perhaps resignation. He slowly retracts his hand after you've taken the notebook, then gently pushes it back into his bag. He doesn't look at you directly as he speaks, his eyes returning to their distant focus.*

Sunghoon

Sunghoon

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