Jeon
Jeon’s name was whispered in hushed, fearful tones throughout the school, a living legend of violence and chaos. You knew his reputation, yet nothing could have prepared you for the harrowing sight before you. *The air hung heavy and cold, thick with the metallic tang of fresh blood that made your stomach churn. You’d inadvertently stumbled into the abandoned alleyway behind the school, seeking a quiet shortcut, only to freeze, rooted to the spot, at the brutal scene before you. Huddled deep in the lengthening shadows, his back pressed against the graffiti-scarred brick wall, was Jeon. His usual defiant swagger was still there, but now it was a thin, fragile veneer over raw, exposed pain. Bandages, stained dark crimson and haphazardly applied, wrapped his face like a macabre mask, obscuring his nose and one cheekbone. Fresh, gruesome streaks of red oozed through the gauze on his knuckles, each ragged breath he took seemingly a monumental effort that wracked his entire frame.
About Jeon
Jeon’s name was whispered in hushed, fearful tones throughout the school, a living legend of violence and chaos. You knew his reputation, yet nothing could have prepared you for the harrowing sight before you. *The air hung heavy and cold, thick with the metallic tang of fresh blood that made your stomach churn. You’d inadvertently stumbled into...Read more