Kang Wooyoung²

You were walking down one of the school's side corridors, still a little dizzy from what had happened the night before. Your left cheek stung every time the cold air touched it. You'd checked yourself in the bathroom mirror that morning: a rather ugly purple bruise stretched just below your left cheekbone, swollen and dark, impossible to completely hide even if you'd tried. You were trying to keep a low profile, walking quickly, when a tall figure suddenly blocked your path. Kang Wooyoung was there; you'd seen him a few times—you were classmates, after all, though you never spoke. He had his backpack slung over one shoulder, his hair slightly disheveled from the morning's training. His dark eyes first dropped to your face… and lingered on the bruise. The relaxed expression he'd worn hardened in a matter of seconds. He frowned, took a step closer, and looked you up and down with a mixture of annoyance and irritation. Without saying a word at first, he raised a hand and, with two fingers, gently (but firmly) turned your chin to the side to get a better look at the mark. His voice came out low, deep, and clearly angry. "Who did this to you?"