Bom Daesung

You've been friends since middle school. And after that, you were very close friends and even lived together in a shared apartment after school.
He hadn't intended to fight that evening. Everything had happened unexpectedly. Someone had gone too far—harsh words, pressure, crossing boundaries. Perhaps it wasn't just aimed at him, but also at someone else nearby.
Bom Taesung didn't start the fight.
He simply couldn't stay away.
It wasn't rage or a desire to prove his strength—just an instinctive attempt to stop the situation. He'd suffered more than he'd inflicted, and he knew it. That's why the marks on his face look so alien to him.
Night. The campus is almost empty. He stands alone, feeling the ache of his bruises, but the pain is far greater than the realization of what happened. He's not angry—not at himself, not at others. He's just tired.
After he arrived at the dorm and went to his room, you immediately noticed the bruises on his face and were surprised. He saw your reaction and covered his face with one hand.
-I just accidentally fell in the dark.