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Jungwon shuddered. It was the middle of summer. Even when it was late in the depths of night, beads of cold sweat managed to find their way back onto Jungwon’s neck. Sitting up on his bed, his knees pressed against his chest, Jungwon’s heart pounded in his ribcage, so loud that he could hear it in his ears, yet his fear was so quiet in his heart.

His eyes flickered around his dark bedroom. He needed to call you, he thought. Images of your dying face, choked sobs, and teary voice flooded his memory. It made Jungwon’s eyes line with hot tears, as they always did whenever this nightmare returned to him. He needed to call you, to make sure that you were okay, that his greatest fears hadn’t come true.

Jungwon's hand, still trembling, reached out for his bedside table. If he ignored the empty coffee cups cluttered on it, or the way he had hundreds of ignored messages and call notifications, he would have slowed down. And just as he searched up your name in his contacts, his shaking fingers about to call you, he stopped.

Oh right. He’s not with you anymore.

6 months is a long time.  Apparently not long enough for Jungwon to forget his feelings for you.

If his chest wasn’t already aching, it was now. It was him that broke up with you.  It was him that chose to break your heart. It was him that chose to leave you crumbling to your knees, tears spilling from your eyes as you silently begged him to stay.

And maybe that was his biggest regret.

Jungwon stared at his hands. He gazed each callous on his palm, every single scar and scratch still evident on his skin. His eyes glazed over the black spider-like veins on his wrists.

No, there was no time to mull over you. Not when there was an imminent threat in this city. Slapping his cheeks awake, Jungwon huffed before climbing out of bed. There was no way he would be able to fall asleep anyway. He might as well distract himself with something productive. Start early.

His eyes fluttered back to his moonlit window. Ah, fuck it.

Jungwon had a secret.

A secret that he kept guarded day in and day out, like his life depended on it. And the truth was, his life did depend on it.

Ignoring the way the red and blue spandex felt particularly uncomfortable as it stuck to his still-sweaty skin, Jungwon shot a sticky white web at a building. He gazed at the web that had ejected from his wrist, before peering over the ledge. In this busy city, it seemed like no road was ever going to be completely empty, not even in the depths of night. There were still people roaming the streets, noisy cars honking at one another with their tires screeching.

You hated heights, was the resounding thought that clouded his head as he looked down to the city below him. Once again, Jungwon's heart tightened in his chest, and he shook his head.

He needed to stop thinking about you. You probably already stopped caring about him anyway. You're a pretty girl, even before you and him broke up there was already a line of guys waiting for you to be single. Jungwon wouldn't be surprised if a girl like you already found someone else.

Someone better. Someone that wasn't a damn coward like Jungwon was.

Jungwon let his eyes fall shut, relishing in the way that the cool summer night air brushed against him. It's hard. To let you go, to accept that what once was his could be someone else's.

He looked back down to his gloved hands, the same hands that have been fighting crime for the past 6 months, the same hands that were responsible for the safety of this city, the same hands that touched your pretty face, the same hands that have brought criminals to justice.

It was all blurring together. Jungwon dug his teeth into his bottom lip. He needed to let you go, before his mind devoured him. He needed to let you go, before his identity as Spider-Man, the number one crime-fighter in this city, gets inevitably revealed, and he has to witness you die for the hundredth time. But for real this time.

"Damn, you look like shit."

Jungwon rolled his eyes at his friend's comment, sighing loudly as he flipped through the pages of his textbook. "Didn't get much sleep last night."

Look, Jungwon is a college student. Although his Spider-Man gig was pretty good at paying him, he wanted to contribute to his community in another way. Like through tutoring the local kids.

"Why are you even studying basic elementary algebra?— you're a film major!" Jungwon's good friend Sunghoon Park was a great guy. A little rambunctious, but still a good friend. But not right now.

Jungwon had agreed to have a quote un-quote "study date" with Sunghoon at the coffee shop below Jungwon's apartment complex. Jungwon was a little proud that his friend suddenly wanted to study with him (such intellectual vitality!), but seeing as all Sunghoon has been doing for the past 30 minutes is scrolling on his phone and looking around conspicuously tells Jungwon otherwise. Sunghoon didn't even order a coffee or soak in the scent of warm coffee beans in the coffee shop. He just sat there.

Jungwon shot a look at Sunghoon. "This kid that I'm tutoring, apparently he's not very good at math."

Sunghoon nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing as his thick brows quivered.

"Okay..." he said slowly, his vowels drawing out. "But why do you need to study for it? Don't you like—" the man made a face— "Already know how to do basic math?"

Jungwon opened his mouth to explain that he's not necessarily trying to review elementary math, but moreso trying to figure how to teach it, but he was cut off by Sunghoon's continued rambling.

"—Like shouldn't you know how to add apples? Like if Sally has 2 apples and she gets 3 more, how many does she..." Sunghoon trailed off when he saw Jungwon's completely vacant, unamused expression. Jungwon clicked his tongue, going back to his very informative reading. However, he could practically feel Sunghoon staring at him, to the point that it felt like he was burning holes into Jungwon's person.

Jungwon let out another annoyed sigh. When he looked up to Sunghoon very obviously staring at him, his friend comically looked away. As if Sunghoon was fooling anyone.

"Do I have three heads?" Jungwon asked bluntly.

"What?"

Jungwon huffed, leaning back in his seat. "You keep looking at me. What is it?"

Sunghoon blinked. Jungwon watched as his older friend's Adam's apple bobbed. The once relaxed, though awkward, expression on Sunghoon's face wiped almost immediately, being replaced with a deeply uncomfortable and uneasy one. He squirmed in his seat, his dark eyes darting around the coffee shop in silence.

"Are you okay?"

But instead of answering, Sunghoon just shoved his face into his hands, muttering something under his breath that Jungwon couldn't make out.

Finally, Sunghoon finished his mini-mental breakdown and looked at Jungwon. Somehow, in the span of a few minutes Sunghoon went from looking perfectly fine to looking like he just went through hell.

"Jungwon." Sunghoon finally said, his voice solemn. Which was weird, because when is Sunghoon ever serious? To add to Jungwon's bewilderment, Sunghoon reached across the table, taking hold of Jungwon's hands. His expression was so comically somber that Jungwon thought he was joking. "I have something to tell you."

Jungwon rolled his eyes, the corners of his lips lifting. "Yeah, yeah, get on with your little bit—"

"I"m serious." Sunghoon looked around again, as if he was making sure that no one was listening. He leaned in closer to Jungwon, his voice dropping to as low as a whisper. "It's serious."

Jungwon's brows knitted together, his expression pinching in pure confusion. "What are you talking abou—"

Sunghoon squeezed Jungwon's hand from across the table. His friend took a deep breath, before earnestly facing Jungwon. "What I'm about to tell you, you didn't hear it from me."

"Just—" Jungwon's scowl deepened. "Just tell me already, dude!"

Usually Sunghoon would react, but he just shook his head solemnly. Sunghoon took another deep breath, before he opened his mouth and let words tumble out: "She has a blind date. This weekend."

Jungwon blinked slowly. "Um. Who?"

Sunghoon looked like he was going to shit himself. "You know...."

Jungwon didn't know. Jungwon literally does not talk to anyone except a select few of his friends. And none of them are girls. "I don't, though...?"

Sunghoon sucked in another sharp breath, his tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip. "Your... Your girl."

Oh. Jungwon's heart sank to his stomach. That's not... what he expected. Not in the slightest. And the way that Sunghoon physically flinched as he revealed such information didn't make Jungwon feel any better.

"Who... told you that?"

Sunghoon pressed his lips together, forming a line as thin as paper. "You know my coworker? Wonyoung? She's [Name]'s good friend and she's been boasting how she hooked her up to this guy."

But Jungwon tuned Sunghoon out after that. Maybe if Jungwon had a better grip he would have calmly explained that you were not his anymore. It’s not like your breakup was a secret, and if there was anyone who had to bear witness to Jungwon's abject gloominess, it would be Sunghoon. Jungwon couldn't understand why his friends still referred to you as his, even when they were well-aware of the fact that you two were separated.

"C'mon, man, we all know you still want her," was a sentiment echoed by all of his friends.

And they were right. As if they could see through Jungwon's quiet exterior, his robotic composure so keen on hiding his true feelings.

Sunghoon's words fell upon deaf ears. If he did listen, he would hear Sunghoon pleading Jungwon to let go of this act, to stop putting up walls, to finally admit that he was wrecking himself from the inside out by continuing to act like he no longer cared for you.

Jungwon stared blankly at the coffee shop table. The pain in his chest no longer felt new. It felt more like a constant.

In his pencil case he still had the expensive mechanical pencil that you gifted him. Its silver ridges were practically molded to the curves of his fingers. The capsule of lead that came with the pencil only had a few pieces left. When he studied he still listened to the same songs that you introduced to him, the same songs that you and him kissed to as the two of you laid in his bed, and—

Jungwon thought he was okay. And for the first few weeks, he really was just fine. After all, he'd convinced himself that it was all for the better. But Jungwon knew that he'd break sooner or later. And it would be now.

It seemed like in every waking moment, you still managed to consume his thoughts.

All roads led back to you.

As Jungwon swung from building to building, he tried his best to clear his mind. As he always did.

After his little coffee chat (disaster?) with Sunghoon, Jungwon had excused himself to go to some "work." When really, he was just reporting for duty as Spider-Man. Feeling the wind against him as he swung around the city, the thrill of nearly flying through the air, was always useful whenever Jungwon had a lot on his mind. Like always, Jungwon checked his usual stops: banks, daycares, financial and business centers, just to make sure that no one was rumpling with civilians' safety.

Lately, it hasn't really been working. But what did he expect?

The bright summer sun, blaring its orange-yellow light, was now dipping into the horizon. The air smelled like gasoline and peaches, and yet, Jungwon couldn't even relish in the tranquility. Jungwon didn't know why he kept thinking about you. The thought of you going on a date at all with someone else made him feel sick to his stomach. His gut twisted as images of you laughing and smiling flashed through his mind. It hurt so bad, so damn bad.

A few more times of helping kids cross the road, or giving an elderly person some directions, and Jungwon felt like his legs were going to give out. Which was strange.

As Spider-Man, Jungwon was cursed with enhanced senses and incredible regeneration abilities. Ever since he got bitten by that spider, Jungwon never had to experience feeling physically worn out.

Not until right now. Jungwon slumped against the wall in the back alley, the cool stone pressing against his cheek. He looked down at his hands— was he sick? Losing his abilities? Seriously, what was wrong with him? His body was feeling uncharacteristically warm, like he was burning up from the inside. His eyelids felt heavy, while his legs felt like jelly.

And maybe Jungwon would have passed out in that alleyway if it weren't for the god-awful sound of his cellphone ringing.

Kriiiing! Kriiiing! Mindlessly, he picked up the call. "Hello?" Jungwon breathed, pushing nearly all of his body weight against the cold wall for support. He laid his head back, exhausted in ways that he couldn't explain.

A familiar voice greeted his ears. "Hey, it's Sunghoon."

Jungwon gritted his teeth. Not again. "I'm not interested—"

"Listen." Sunghoon said, his voice earnest. "I'm sorry about what I said today, but—"

Jungwon's lips pressed together. How shameful. It must be so shameful, the fact that everyone knew that Jungwon was suffering so much, that it was so obvious.

"—Me and the guys are going out this weekend," Sunghoon's gravelly voice said over the phone. "And we thought that you should really come with us."

Without even realizing it, Jungwon's breath got caught in his throat. He swallowed the lump, his voice coming out so much weaker than he wanted it to, "Like I said, I'm not interested—"

"Jungwon," Sunghoon pleaded. "You... You haven't been yourself lately. We know that you're struggling right now—we're worried about you. Please, just let us be there for you."

Jungwon felt so humiliated. Ashamed even, at the way Sunghoon's voice was filled with so much sympathy. So much pity.

Jungwon wanted to scream. He wanted to shout at Sunghoon and all of his friends for not minding their damn business, for treating him like he was some charity case.

But as Jungwon's eyes traced his shadow on the road, his phone to his ear, Jungwon wanted to shout at himself, for being so weak, for being a coward, for pushing people away, for having an ego so fragile that he felt threatened by his own friend caring about him.

How pathetic. And Jungwon has the gall to call himself a hero?

Jungwon clicked his tongue. "Okay, I'll be. there."

Jungwon wasn't stupid.

He knew exactly why his friends called him out tonight. It was to distract him from the fact that on this same night, you'd be going on your date.

The plan was to all meet up at Jake's apartment, and then go to the club from there. The moment that he arrived at Jake's apartment, he scurried to the bathroom.

Jungwon stared into Jake's bathroom mirror. The entire cramped bathroom smelled like strong fumes of manly cologne and hair spray. From inside, he could hear the muffled bantering of his friends, probably arguing about who would be driving.

His eyes glazed over the tight black compression shirt that clung to his chest, the dark-washed ripped jeans hanging from his hips. It's been a while since Jungwon utilized his pierced ears, and he figured that he'd put in some simple flat black studs before the piercings inevitably closed up. On his wrist, Jungwon had mindlessly slipped on the braided tassel bracelet that you made him; it was still hanging around his room, and he had forgotten that it was from you. Despite that, he didn't have the heart to take it off and shove into his pocket.

Jungwon couldn't recognize himself. It wasn't just the breakup that ruined him.

Sure, losing you was probably one of the greatest losses in his entire life, he was sure of that. But since then, Jungwon has also purposely distanced himself from his friends. He stopped responding to their messages and going to big group outings.

He could hear Jay's howling laughter and Jake's shouting, all sounds that should be completely familiar to him. And yet, there he was, feeling awkward.

He felt like staying in this bathroom until someone noticed that he was absent.

Click! But that wasn't what Spider-Man's do.

Jungwon cracked the bathroom door open, and the moment that he stepped into the hallway, revealing his blank expression, all of his friends whipped their heads. Jungwon could feel their eyes on him, staring at him like he was some anomaly, and for a second, he regretted even agreeing to hang out with them.

He hadn't seen these guys all together in so long. In fact, Jungwon hadn't been in a personal group setting for months now. He wasn't going to lie and say that showing his face to the friends that he strayed away from made him feel uneasy.

But almost immediately, his friends' faces cracked with large grins, whooping his name.

"Jungwon!" Jake delighted as Heeseung threw an arm around Jungwon's shoulder, pulling him snugly to the side of him.

Jay's sharp features morphed into a big, boyish smile, his lips forming a curve. Jay brought up a hand to dap Jungwon up, and Jungwon received it. "Hey, man."

Sunghoon followed behind him, his sharp canine teeth revealing as he chuckled. "Glad you could make it, Jungwon."

Jungwon felt unnatural. Out of place, like a fish out of water. When was the last time he was around people that enjoyed his presence? Other than the group of middle schoolers that cheered him on when he dashed through the air, or the middle aged women at the local library club that doted on him, Jungwon couldn't remember clearly.

For all the months that Jungwon tore himself away from his friends, he didn't know what was more surprising, that his friends still wanted something to do with him, or that nothing had changed while he was gone.

Sunoo's eyes still pressed into thin crescents as he threw his head back, laughing at something stupid Riki said. Heeseung still pulled Jungwon into a headlock, aggressively scruffling his head and ruining his hair despite Jungwon's complaints. Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon still liked to argue loudly, their voices reaching volumes so high that Jungwon was sure they'd get a noise complaint before even leaving.

And as Jay and Sunghoon wrestled, falling onto Jake's couch, the room erupted with the same familiar howling laughter and quips that Jungwon had forgotten how much he loved.

As Riki jumped in to join in the pseudo-wrestling match, Sunoo chanting "fight, fight, fight!," and Heeseung and Jake acting as refs, Jungwon gaped at the scene.

The boys that he's grown up with, the boys that had seen him grow from a wimpy little middle schooler into a strong adult, the boys that never failed to make him laugh— have stayed the exact same.

And for the first time in a while, Jungwon felt his lips lift up, soft giggles erupting from his chest as his eyes squeezed shut. It was such a foreign feeling, and an even more foreign sound.

His friends seemed to think the same. In an instant, the room fell silent. Once again, Jungwon felt all eyes on him.

But before Jungwon's mind could play tricks on him, Riki dashed over to him, throwing the older boy over his shoulder and throwing him on the couch.

"You son of bitch, Jungwon!" Riki laughed affectionately, beginning a tickling assault on him.

Once again, Jake's apartment was engulfed in chaos and laughter.

Well, after being tickled so hard that he almost started crying, as well as a well-deserved noise complaint from Jake's neighbors, Jungwon and his friends finally decided to go to the club. Which was their plan all along, but it wasn't any of their faults that messing around in Jake's home was more fun. And plus, Jungwon accidentally used too much of his spider abilities and body slammed Riki so hard that they all needed a momentary time-out to get Riki an ice pack for his head ("How the hell did you get so strong?!" was what Riki was more concerned about than the giant red mark on his forehead).

Bright strobing lights, the smell of sweaty bodies and alcohol, and the sound of techno music filled all of Jungwon's senses.

And with the encouragement of his rowdy, unruly friends, Jungwon sucked in sharp breath.

Fuck it.

Whatever worries he had now, or whoever was breaking his heart, he was going to forget it. He was going to pretend that it never existed, that it never hurt him, that he was okay.

Just for tonight, just for his friends.

"C'mon!" Jake pulled Jungwon by his arm to the bar. The older boy ordered the two of them a few shots. As they waited for the bartender to prepare their drinks, Jake and Jungwon sat on the barstools. In the corner of Jungwon's eyes, he could see his other friends fucking around like they always did.

"Would it hurt them to have some class?" Jungwon muttered playfully, unable to hide his amusement when Heeseung slipped and fell on the dance floor.

"Nah, class is a foreign concept to them." Jake let a bashful smile spread on his face, his gelled hair falling over his eyes. The older man tapped his fingers on the bar counter to the electric music loudly blasting.

Jungwon grinned, and the two sat in a comfortable silence, before Jake opened his mouth again.

"We missed having you around, you know."

Jungwon whipped his head over to his friend. He quirked a brow. "Really?"

Jake put a hand on the back of his neck, a soft chuckle falling from his lips. "Yup." Jungwon followed his eyes, back to their friends that were now teasing Jay for his wild dance moves. "I think you're the smartest out of all of us."

"That's not true."

Jake shook his head. "Nah, you should have seen us. Me and Sunoo were trying to figure out how to do taxes. Never again."

As the bartender served up their drinks, Jungwon turned back to Jake, who continued, "I know you're having a hard time, but just know that we're here for you."

Jake raised the shot glass filled with a golden brown liquid— "Cheers."

Jungwon smiled.

Clink! Their shot glasses collided.

"Cheers." And with that, Jungwon threw the shot back, the bitter taste on his tastebuds burning so hard that it reached his nose. Almost immediately, Jungwon's expression turned sour, his nose scrunching at the taste. "Blegh— How do you drink this?!"

Jake shrugged. "You'll get used to it if you drink enough."

Jungwon hunched over the bar counter, his elbows on the counter as he held his hands in his head. He shook his head. "Never again. That's nasty."

A few moments of silence pass. Jungwon slid his empty shot glass over. "Give me another shot."

Despite being an adult, Jungwon had forgotten what it felt like to party.

The thrumming of the techno music that filled the club felt like it was stringing directly through Jungwon, droning through his head. After a few shots and buzzed laughs with Jake, Jungwon was tipsy enough that his body felt weightless. Weightless enough to find himself on the dance floor.

As his strong body moved to the music, Jungwon felt the rhythm of the music. His mind was hazy, nebulous as the alcohol in his system began to take over. Jungwon's head felt warm, and his vision despite his spider senses was more blurry than usual. But that didn't matter.

Blood was rushing all over Jungwon's body. His cheeks felt warm, and he couldn't tell if it was his enhanced spidey-senses or if the music was just that loud that he could physically feel the hum in his chest.

Then, the music switched from an upbeat electronic sound, to a slower, more melodic one. Jungwon swore he recognized the song, but he couldn't name it. Jungwon felt the multiple bodies of the room brush against him, before he felt one directly press up against him.

It was clearly a woman. Jungwon let his eyes shut as he let his body take reign.

Swaying to the gradual beat, Jungwon found his hands on this new woman's body. As his chest pulsed to the song, he took in her scent, he could smell sweet, floral nodes. He could barely feel his feet below him, and for a few moments, he felt like he was going to float off of the ground. And just as Jungwon thought he was going to ascend, he felt two manicured hands on his chest. His hands slid down to her hips, squeezing them, which earned him a sultry giggle.

If Jungwon weren't drunk, he may have jumped away the moment he realized that a woman was practically grinding on him. But the alcohol was too deep in his system, and he was too far gone. Even with his eyes closed, Jungwon could feel everything so intensely. He felt fingers reach for his belt loops, pulling him along.

As the music slowed to a stop, momentarily invading the usually bumping club in a hushed silence, Jungwon felt the woman lean into his ear.

"So handsome," she rasped, her warm breath brushing against his skin.

And as the chills trickled down his spine, the music finally came back on. And strangely enough, even though they were, in fact, inside a partying club, the music that blasted from the speakers was the complete opposite.

A slow piano, rich and deep vocals, and a romantic cadence.

Even in his drunken state, Jungwon immediately recognized this song at the first lyrics. Can't Help Falling in Love by Elvis Preseley. Without a doubt, it was this song.

How did Jungwon know? Because this was the song that you and him loved to slow dance to on your kitchen floor. And just like that, Jungwon's mind drifted into the deepest pits of his mind, the parts that he'd locked away.

In his mind, he saw you and him swaying to this song. You and him both wearing matching aprons, giggling as you attempted to slow dance. He saw the way you'd look at him, with those beautiful eyes that he could never refuse. He saw the way you said his name with a smile that he could never forget, not even in a million lifetimes.

Then, he saw flickering images of you and him: you and him holding each other in the winter to keep each other warm, you and him crying into each other's arms, you and him arguing over something so silly that you just ended up bursting out laughing.

And for a moment, it felt like you were there. Another body up against his, dancing so rhythmically that for a split second, Jungwon could pretend that it was you.

And in the depths of his heart, he prayed that it was you.

He hoped that when he opened his eyes, this nightmare would end, and he would get to see you. He hoped that when he opened his eyes, he would see you, staring up at him with those same beautiful, glossy eyes. He hoped that when he opened his eyes, this song would end, and he could scoop you up and bring you home, to show you all the love that he desperately wanted to give you.

But as Elvis Preseley's resonant voice sang earnestly, Jungwon's eyes slowly peeled open to not see you, but another woman.

A woman that was not you.

"N-Not her," Jungwon's lips quivered, his body instantly pulling away. His feet stumbled, in an attempt to tear away from her grasp. Jungwon ignored the way the woman attempted to pull him back, calling out to him.

In his intoxicated state, Jungwon felt hot tears line his eyes as he staggered away.

Not you. She wasn't you. It didn't matter, in fact. No one was you.

It didn't matter what Jungwon tried to do, his heart kept going back to you.

His head was spinning. Jungwon could barely control his body as he bursted out of the doors of the club, and even less, he couldn't control the tears that were now staining his cheeks. The expensive bottle of water that the club had at the entrance was completely chugged down in a single swish, minus Jungwon's struggles to manage his soft sobbing.

Even with water in his system, Jungwon's head was still spinning. His vision was swirling. Finally, after faltering for a few moments, Jungwon found himself sitting on the stairs at the entrance of the club.

As his vision cleared up, the alcohol in his system slowly washing away, Jungwon brought his hand to his mouth, to muffle the sounds of his crying.

Maybe he was just drunk, but the tears were just not stopping. Jungwon's chest heaved up and down, labored and stammering breaths rising from his chest. His hot tears were beginning to burn his eyes.

Even from outside, he could still hear Elvis Preseley's vocalization.

Damn it, did he have to ruin tonight? Jungwon pulled his knees to his chest, burying his face into his knees. His jeans were getting wet with his tears, and the late-night breeze was getting chilly.

In fact, everything was hurting.

Why couldn't he just forget you? Why couldn't he just let you go? Why did he still yearn for you?

Jungwon lifted his head. He could see his hunched figure in his shadow on the ground. How pathetic of him. He hasn't cried in a long time. It felt weird. It didn't feel like him.

Jungwon looked at the spider-like black veins on his wrist. Why was he cursed? Why did it have to be him? He wasn't worthy, he would never be worthy of being Spider-Man. Jungwon didn't ask to be bitten. He didn't ask for that stupidly rich and ignorant scientist to come to him and urge him to use his powers for good. He didn't ask for this responsibility. He didn't ask for anything, except you.

"With great power comes great responsibility," was what he was told the moment the scientists found him. And Jungwon really believed in it. He used his strength to help the weak, he gave others the power that they couldn't have, he protected the love that others cherished.

But couldn't keep any for himself.

After Jungwon's initial honeymoon phase with his newfound spider abilities, he realized something that changed his entire life forever. That he was no longer safe, and even more, everyone that he loved was no longer safe. And Jungwon thought he was strong enough; he thought that he could let you and all of his friends go slowly to protect you all. But he simply wasn't.

And Jungwon felt so damn selfish. He felt like a greedy bastard, someone who couldn't sacrifice himself for the good of others. Why was he even crying? There were people in danger right now, and here he was crying because he missed the girl of his dreams? How pathetic.

But he wanted you so bad.

Jungwon never wanted anything in life. All his life, he was obedient like a dog. He did everything that others asked of him. He always tried his best, always valued his righteousness, always did what was right.

But now, all he wanted was you.

He's never wanted anything, but the moment that he wants you, he couldn't have you.

Here he was, crying like some idiot all alone while you were probably still on that date. God, he wished Sunghoon never told him. He tried his best for the past few days to just not think about it, but now Jungwon had to truly face the fact that you've already moved on. His chest felt like it was going to burst.

Jungwon sunk his teeth into his fist to muffle his sobs even more. Maybe he should just go home. It's cold, it's uncomfortable, it's unsanitary, and most of all, Jungwon felt like shit.

As Jungwon stumbled to his feet, he sucked in one more breath. It still smelled like alcohol, with a scent of cigarettes. Then, he looked at the bustling road across the street. Somewhere out there, you were laughing with another man. Probably kissing him, calling him the same names that you'd call Jungwon.

God, it made him physically ill. Jungwon brought the back of his hand to wipe his nose one more time. He was going to go home. He'll leave a call for Heeseung or something later.

But before he could even take another step—

Boom!

Jungwon looked up at the sky. Even when it was dark, he could see a large cloud of black smoke. And now, he heard police sirens in the distance and the screaming of civilians.

Shit.

You fiddled with your fingers, bouncing your knee in anticipation to the beat of the 2010's pop song that your taxi driver chose.

Damn it, Wonyoung, you thought. You glanced down at the dress that your best friend chose for you. In the reflection of the backseat car window you caught your made up face. The blush on your cheeks, your curled lashes, the lip gloss. You thought you looked pretty.

Your eyes fluttered to your phone resting in your lap. The latest notification was from Wonyoung, telling you good luck and that you looked pretty. You couldn't help but smile.

It's been 6 months since your boyfriend Jungwon broke up with you. And frankly, it's probably been the worst 6 months of your life.

Words could not describe the types of pain and downright suffering that you went through. You cried for weeks straight, and up until recently, you hadn't had the motivation to really do anything.

The breakup was so unexpected, too. One day you and Jungwon were laughing, the next he left you. You couldn't understand why, and it wasn't like Jungwon gave you a succinct reason either. All he had said was that he was sorry, and that he had no other choice.

And the worst part was, you still weren't over your ex.

All that pain for nothing, you thought as your eyes followed the cars that passed your taxi. Your best friend, Wonyoung, on the other hand, had had enough.

"I don't like seeing you like this," Wonyoung had told you one night, as you cried into her shoulder. Despite what she showed others with her bubbly personality, her voice was stern. "It's not fair to you."

And you knew she was right. Which was why you let her set you up on a date with one of her colleagues. You figured that it was time that you stopped mulling over a man that couldn't stay anyway.

It's been so long in general since you even considered looking at someone else that wasn't Jungwon. And for a reason that you couldn't explain, it didn't feel right. And yet, you pushed it to the back of your head as you stepped out of the taxi.

The restaurant that your date, a guy named Haruto Watanabe, chose was a semi-formal one, called Bisco's Palace. You thought that name was a little bit corny, but you brushed it off. Thick stone walls, yellow-orange moody lighting, and an elegant grassy hedge at the entrance. It looked like a fairytale, and because of the beautiful dress that Wonyoung made you wear, you felt like you were in a fairytale.

When you arrived, you were met with a tall man with sharp features.

"Haruto?" you asked. He turned to look at you. You watched as his eyes widened, before he gave you a once-over.

"[N-Name]?" he spluttered. You recognized the look on his face. It was the look on a man's face whenever he found a woman attractive, and unfortunately, you were no stranger to it. "You look— You look beautiful."

If you were someone else, maybe you'd feel flattered. It's not every day that a good-looking man calls you beautiful. But all you felt was a sense of unease. Not that it was his fault; there was nothing intrinsically wrong with him. You just didn't know why you felt so uncomfortable.

You fought back the urge to make a face, and you instead forced a tight-lipped smile.

"Thank you." Now it was your turn to look him over. He was wearing a crisp button-up with slacks. He looked well put-together. "You look great too."

Haruto visibly turned pink, and he muttered something under his breath as he averted his gaze. Finally, he cleared his throat, extending his hand out to you. "Shall we go in?"

You narrowed your eyes at him, before you took his hand curtly. "Of course."

The two of you were quickly seated, and after being greeted by a cheery waitress that was clearly still in high school, your food was ordered and served in a timely manner. If you were to be honest, you weren't exactly too invested in tonight's date. Even if you agreed to it to get over Jungwon, you knew that your heart wasn't there yet.

Not to say that Haruto wasn't a sweetheart. He was polite, had very good manners, and was very respectful toward you. He tried his best to keep a flowing conversation with you, and in recognizing his efforts, you simply just went along with him. He was handsome and a well-natured guy. And, the food was great. Everything was to your taste, from the appetizers to the drinks to the dessert. The wait staff were also on top of it. As a whole, the restaurant was just perfect. The lights, the music, even how cushioned the chairs were.

Like a fairy tale. Everything was perfect. Perfect man, perfect food, perfect night. But it just wasn't good enough.

You felt nothing for Haruto, not even an ounce of interest. And as much as you didn't want to admit it, you knew why you were like this: Because he wasn't Jungwon.

There was nothing "Jungwon" about this date. Haruto certainly wasn't Jungwon, but everything about this date was nothing like how you liked to be treated. You liked to laugh and to get into dynamic discussions about silly topics, ones that didn't even matter. Haruto was so sweet, but he couldn't match your level of wit. While the food was tasty, you didn't want something so stringent and formal. You'd rather do something together with your date, to get to know each other better rather than sitting at a candle-lit restaurant.

Who would have known all of this? Who would have allowed you to do all of these things regardless of the environment? Who did your heart still stubbornly belong to?

Jungwon.

You let out a forced laugh at one of Haruto's jokes before excusing yourself to the washroom.

Shhhhh! As the sink water ran, you stared at your reflection. Even your makeup was done in a way that you knew Jungwon liked. The lipgloss in your purse was the same one that he bought you all those months ago. You didn't even know if you had the heart to use it up.

You thought that you were doing better. But it seemed like time and space only made your heart grow fonder.

It was getting later into the night now. And against your better judgment, you wondered what Jungwon was doing. Maybe he's playing video games. Or reading all of the superhero comics that he loved to collect.

Then, your mind wandered. What if he was with another girl? Your chest overwhelmed itself with unimaginable hurt. He never gave you a real explanation as to why he wanted to end things, and seemingly, his closest friends couldn't either. You'd be lying if you said that your mind didn't betray you, wandering to all of the darkest places.

Your eyes traced your own face in the mirror. Would Jungwon do that to you? Was he really the type to be unfaithful?

You knew the answer: no. Never. Jungwon was many things, and a cold-hearted unscrupulous cheater was not one of them. But then again, you thought you knew him to be the type to never spring a breakup on you. But he did. Maybe you didn't know him as well as you thought he did.

You took a deep breath. Not right now, you thought. You were on a date with another guy. It would be disrespectful to think about your ex, wouldn't it? Even if Haruto was most definitely not the one for you, you should have some courtesy.

You quickly rinsed your hands, dried them, and reapplied your lipgloss. And as you were ready to step back out, prepared to brave your tight-lipped smile and kind words, a large crashing sound pierced your ears.

Boom!

In the blink of an eye, the tiled bathroom floor below you rumbled, low growls rolling from under your feet. You froze. Your hand jerked out to grab the counter, the wall, the bathroom door handle— anything— to keep you stable.

"W-What the—"

Another deafening roar thundered through the air, enough to make your ears ring. At that instance, the floor below you ripped open.

What the hell was going on? Was it an earthquake? That would explain why the ground tore open. And yet, in the distance, you could hear booming thumping sounds.

Almost like the footsteps of a humongous being. Almost like the footsteps of a supervillain. Shit.

You're well aware of the state of your city. In the past few years, there has been a strange phenomenon of evildoers and mutants alike, appearing throughout your city to wreak havoc and torment civilians. And with that came the rise of even more bold crimes. Bank robberies, arson, kidnappings, pretty much everything.

Luckily, in the past 6 months, a new hero has appeared. The red and blue masked hero; the friendly neighborhood superhero himself; Spider-Man.

Your apartment, located near the center of the city, was awfully close to all of the commotion, nearly all the time. Which was why you couldn't help but admit that Spider-Man was quite the gem, for taking out all of these ne'er-do-wells and eccentric supervillains. And yet, here you were, probably in the middle of a supervillain attack.

All of the past villains have been eccentric but petty. But as the tiles below your feet literally cracked with each booming thrum, you were sure that this new villain, whoever it was, was worse.

Much worse. Probably worse than you could ever imagine.

And before you could react to the way that you tumbled to the ground, the cold floor hitting your knees so achingly, you heard a shriek from outside the bathroom.

"It's Baron von Fizzlebang!"

.... Who?

Baron von Fizzlebang?

What kind of shitty villain name is that—

Boom!

The smell of smoke filled your nostrils. You didn't know where it came from, but from the way that civilians screeched and screamed outside, you figured that it couldn't be far from you.

Boom!

Okay, this is urgent, you needed to get out!

Your heart rate picking up, you breathed slowly to keep yourself calm. You pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the way your soon-to-be bruised knees ached. As you reached for the bathroom door handle, the lights flickered, followed by the sound of explosions. Even though you were definitively inside the bathroom, with all sides of the room still intact, the dust seeped through the cracks, filling your lungs. With a strained gasp for air, you clamped a hand over your nose, squinting.

You pressed your ear against the bathroom door. Now the entire restaurant blared with fire alarms and smoke detectors. Police sirens also sounded. The large footstep-like thudding in the distance came closer and closer. You had no choice but get out of this damn bathroom and book it.

Your heart was now pounding so quickly that it felt like it would fall out. Your legs felt so weak, your head feeling too heavy. Who the hell is Baron von Fizzlebang? And more importantly, why did it have to be tonight? Without even realizing it, your palms had become sweaty, and with all the blood rushing to your head, you were mere seconds away from sweating.

You shook your head. Focus! You squeezed your eyes shut, your hand wrapped tightly on that bathroom door handle. On a count of three, you were going to open that door and run for your life.

One. Why did some good-for-nothing supervillain have to ruin your already-mediocre night?

Two. You needed to relax. There's no time to sit around and think and languish. Just do it!

Three. You pushed the heavy bathroom door open, and you bursted through the doorway.

And much to your relief, the dark hallway that led to the restaurant's bathroom was hidden away in a little nook; at the end of the hallway was the entrance to the main room of the restaurant.

Slowly creeping down the hallway, you could see the destruction that was wreaked on Bisco's poor, fancy restaurant. Chairs and tables were knocked over, with broken glass and porcelain scattering the red-carpeted floor. From the looks of it, it seemed like all of the restaurant's patrons were either huddled up in another section of the restaurant, or they had escaped.

Great. Now, all you had to do was get out. Thankfully, at the other end of this hallway, there was a backdoor exit. So all you had to do was turn around and—

There standing at the end of the hallway, in front of your exit, was a tall and slender man.

He wore a fitted tailored suit, yet it was bright purple, with a giant bow tie. He had a monocle over his eye.

Like some type of costumed noble. Like a baron.

"That's right," he said, a devious grin spreading across his face, in a way that almost made him look like a carnival clown. Your pulse froze, mid-beat. Theatrically, he gave you a bow, before he reached a hand out to you. " 'Tis I, Baron von Fizzlebang."

Your gut twisted. And when you stared at him with shaky eyes, your entire body frozen in time, the supervillain let out a cackle.

"Oh dear," Baron von Fizzlebang put his hand to his chest, feigning offense. He slyly eyed you, and at once, you could see a lightbulb seemingly pop from his head. "You don't mind being a hostage, right?"

Before you could even open your mouth, Baron von Fizzlebang shot you with finger-guns. And before you knew it, you fell to your knees, your vision became hazy. The last thing that you heard as you lost consciousness was the supervillain's laughter, police sirens, and shouting for a particular red and blue masked superhero.

Jungwon swore that he had a special sense for you.

Jungwon arrived at the scene barely even 5 minutes after he heard the initial explosion. The big fancy restaurant at the end of Mainstreet was the scene.

Really? Jungwon thought. Bisco's Palace? That pretentious place?

The thing was, Jungwon wasn't really nervous. One time, he had to fight an entire group of 20 thugs with guns barely 5 minutes after he was rudely awoken. Jungwon could probably fight people in his sleep. His body and physicality, although he resented it half the time, was perfectly attuned to everything that he needed.

Even now, as he was barely sober and emotionally wrecked, he could see clearly. When he arrived at the scene, half of Bisco's Palace was completely destroyed. Mini fires spotted the scene, with pods of smoke bursting in the night air. Terrified civilians cried that they heard earsplitting thumping in the distance, like footsteps. Others claimed that an eccentric villain called "Baron von something-something" was the cause of this all.

Jungwon huffed. Another crazy supervillain? Seemingly there was another crazy supervillain appearing everyday! What, was there some kind of factory pumping them out? From the looks of it, it seemed like most of the civilians had escaped relatively unscathed.

Good. Jungwon readied himself to launch into that burning restaurant. He had a simple action plan: Rescue the remaining civilians, beat that Baron von something-something's ass, and go home.

The moment that Jungwon's striking red and blue figure launched across the sky, Jungwon could hear the gasps of civilians, police officers, and on-site journalists alike. Jungwon landed easily into what was left of that restaurant building.

And when he entered, it was quiet. Eerily quiet.

Jungwon had to be careful.

Jungwon creeped slowly, closer to the main dining room. He kept his breathing as quiet as a whisper. And when he peeked his head through the grand, arched door-frame that led into the dining room, there, he saw a group of civilians, huddled among the flickering fires Men, women, children— there they were, shaking in fear, and coughing as the. Fire smoke filled their lungs. With his enhanced senses, he could hear mothers hushing their wailing babies and children asking their fathers if they were going to die tonight.

Not on my watch, Jungwon mentally answered their questions.

Jungwon shot a web at the ceiling, and in one fell swoop, he gathered enough momentum to swing across the restaurant, landing where the civilians were.

"Spider-Man!" they cried.

Jungwon crouched down toward them, putting his hands on his knees.

"Listen," he began, his voice stern. "I am going to help you guys escape." Jungwon grimaced at their amazed gazes. "But I need you guys to listen to me carefully."

Jungwon's eyes glazed over the group of civilians. There were up to 15 of them. He didn't have time to carry each and every one of them out. The entrance was burning, and there weren't any other ways to get out. Jungwon wanted to conserve his time as much as possible. To prevent that bastard of a villain Baron von something-something from doing any more damage.

And now that he took a better look at these civilians, they looked tired and worn out. Their cheeks were covered in soot, sweaty faces from the fire that was surrounding them.

Jungwon's eyes darted around the restaurant. There had to be another exit. Then, his eyes fell upon the tall window that stretched from the ceiling down to the floor.

Bingo.

"Mama, it's too hot," Jungwon could hear a toddler babble. Other people seemed to join in on agreement, and yet, they could barely speak coherently. With sweat-stained shirts and cheeks, Jungwon cursed under his breath.

Damn it, the fire was physically weakening these people. Jungwon's plan was nothing short of easy: he was going to break the hell out that window and get these people to escape that way. Yet, the problem was, the windows were bound to shatter and create dangerous shards. Jungwon was going to instruct them to be careful, but judging from the way that these civilians flinched at even the slightest flutter of fire while barely even having the strength to stand up, there was no way that they could have the alertness and mental precision to actually avoid the shards.

Think, think! Jungwon squeezed his eyes shut. What should he do? In the palace that was his mind, Jungwon ran through every possibility. These fires were big. They looked much smaller outside, but now that he was in the restaurant itself, these tongues of fires were massive. Not only were these fires scalding, but the smoke was painful for these civilians.

Come to think of it, shouldn't every building in this city have a robust mechanism for when fire breaks out? And yet, the walls, floor, and remaining civilians in this restaurant were dry. Which means that the sprinklers haven't gone off yet.

This was why public establishments needed health inspections... Jungwon shook his head. He didn't have time to criticize the efficacy of his government.

At once, Jungwon shot webs at whatever hard object he could find— fallen plates, bundles of metal utensils, even pieces of debris— before slinging them into the ceiling, directly toward all of the sprinkler bulbs that dotted the tall ceiling.

I'm sorry about your ceiling, but you'll thank me later, Jungwon thought, before slinging thick wads of webs toward every vent.

As each sprinkler bulb shattered, flared streams of water bursted from the ceiling. And as each vent of this flaming restaurant were webbed over, Jungwon prayed to whichever god he could think of that his physics professor was right about buoyancy. Hopefully, if he was right, by webbing over the vents, new smoke would not be able to enter the room, and thus reduce the amount of smoke that the civilians were breathing in.

As cold water droplets pittered and pattered over Jungwon's suit, he watched as the remaining civilians cheered and cooled off under the sprinkler. And with his physics-accurate ventilation blockage, they'd now be much more compliant.

Jungwon latched onto a larger piece of debris and slung it at the closest and safest window.

"Okay," he began instructing, creating a temporary web to shield the civilians from the fractured pieces of the window. "

You—" he pointed at a man—"Take that kid. And you two—" he pointed at two teenagers—"Stick together."

Jungwon organized the people. "Be careful, and step around the shards!"

The civilians were already on it. Jungwon watched as they carried their young and old, fleeing as fast as they came, all of them murmuring a "thank you, Spider-Man," as they pushed out through the window.

And with that, Jungwon was left all alone. The fire had died down just a little bit, by virtue of the sprinklers. For safe measure, Jungwon configured a few webs to create a few fire barriers to slow those damned flames down.

Now where was that Baron von something-something?

Jungwon scanned the restaurant. He looked everywhere. In the foyer, at the entrance, in the kitchen, even under the tables.

But he couldn't find anyone.

Except, there was one place that he didn't check: the dark hallway in the corner of the restaurant.

Jungwon inched toward it, slowly. He took small, spider-like steps.

"Oh, would you just hurry it up already?!" a loud voice boomed through the air.

Emerging from the hallway was a tall man.

Baron von something-something.

"Look at you, Spider-Man!" he cried, mockingly batting his eyelashes and clasping his hands together. "So brave! So strong! You helped those poor, poor civilians escape!"

Jungwon narrowed his eyes. Who the hell was this maniac? Jungwon's fingers twitched.

"But it looks like you forgot one." A sinister smile spread across his face. "Oh come out, dear!"

There was nothing that could have possibly prepared Jungwon for what he saw next. His heart plummeted to his stomach, because from the dark hallway emerged you.

Your face was dazed, your eyes cloudy, and your movements so sluggish. As if you were unconscious, and your mind was being controlled.

"Dontcha think she's pretty?" the villain continued, eccentrically throwing his arms around you. He laughed. "They don't call me Baron von Fizzlebang for no reason! With a single gunshot from my fingers, I can take anyone under my control!"

Jungwon tuned everything out.

He felt a flood of emotions.

Fear.

You, the person that's been haunting him. You, who has been consuming his thoughts and life. There you were, in front of him, after all of this time. Even when you weren't really there, Jungwon couldn't bear to look you in the eyes.

And yet, it meant nothing. His fear meant absolutely nothing. Not when there was another emotion taking hold: anger.

So much anger, that his blood felt hot. Jungwon dug his fingernails into his gloved palms, enough that his knuckles were beginning to ache. How dare this villain take advantage of you? Your safety was in jeopardy. It made Jungwon's stomach boil with a rage that he couldn't comprehend, the way that you were quite literally not in control of your body. That in the time that Jungwon wasn't there, unspeakable things could have been done to you. To think that your own autonomy was torn from your hands, to think that your own dignity was desecrated in the name of some supervillain's sick power game— that conjured a feeling that Jungwon couldn't even describe. Disgust, horror, wrath; he felt it all.

Jungwon now looked upon the villain with eyes full of wrath.

Baron von Fizzlebang continued to rave on and on about how great he was, and how this was just all part of his master plan to subjugate this city. But it didn't mean anything.

To the entire world, Spider-Man was a hero. And in most ways, he was one. Jungwon saved people daily, he prevented the city around him from crumbling to the ground like it was easy. He was a man of the people, the beacon of hope for all city residents.

The symbol of law and order, the righteous hero of the city, Spider-Man.

And yet, as Jungwon's eyes couldn't bear to tear away from your dazed face, he felt his resolve slip away.

The obligation to protect others, defend freedom, and uphold justice, like a vessel from a dock, sailed away into the horizon, into the unknown. Right now, Jungwon was not Spider-Man protecting a civilian. He was not the Spider-Man that had no other duty than to ensure the safety of his fellow citizens. He was not the Spider-Man whose every action reflected his moral purity.

No, Jungwon was a man that was so ashamed of his own fears, that he never even dared to speak of them. He was the man that pushed everyone away, frightened by what would happen if he continued to associate with them. And worst of all, Jungwon was the man that still continued to yearn you, longing for your touch one last time before he would consign his love to oblivion.

Which was why all Jungwon saw was red.

Maybe if he was actually listening to Baron von Fizzlebang's monologue he would have heard how his abilities worked, but Jungwon didn't care. He'll probably figure it out later when this lunatic gets thrown into jail.

Jungwon couldn't control his body, or his mind at that matter. All Jungwon could remember doing was shooting a web at the ceiling to gain a higher vantage point, before (with all of the maximum, inhuman speed that his body was capable of) swinging down to land a kick flat onto Baron von Fizzlebang's cheek, effectively knocking the man down to the floor.

Before the villain could even react, Jungwon couldn't stop himself; he pinned the villain down to the floor using all of his body weight, before he let nothing but his sheer anger reign. All of his pent up emotions— anger, fear, shame, guilt— spilled out. No longer was Jungwon the pure hero.

With his bare hands, he landed punches to Baron von Fizzlebang's abdomen. Over and over and over.

Spider-Man used spider webs and crafty tricks to defeat his enemies. But Jungwon? He used his bare hands. With gritted teeth, and blood boiling hotter than lava, Jungwon punched, and punched, and punched. Even when he could feel his knuckles beginning to bruise, he punched. He ignored every cry and groan of pain coming from the villain, for there was only one thing on his mind: your dignity.

Jungwon wouldn't have stopped, not even if his arm gave out (because he would just switch to his other arm), not even if this maniacal supervillain was out for good.

The only thing that pulled Jungwon into his blind rage was the sound of you collapsing to the ground, with a thump!

Instantly, Jungwon snapped out of his fury, his head whipping over to you. Seemingly, with Baron von Fizzlebang knocked out, you were released from his control.

Immediately, Jungwon rushed over to you, leaving Baron von Fizzlebang's unconscious body.

"[Name]!" he cried, scooping your limp body up into his arms. You no longer looked dazed, so at least Baron von Fizzlebang's control of you wore off for good. And yet, your expression looked exhausted. Your eyes were half-lidded, labored breaths and soft whimpering pushing from your lips. "[Name], can you hear me? Are you okay?—"

Overhead, Jungwon could hear helicopters and the shouting of police officers and firemen from outside. They must have figured that Jungwon defeated Baron von Fizzlebang, and now they were sending re-enforcements. But all of Jungwon's focus was still on you.

"Spider-Man...?" you mumbled weakly, your voice hoarse and quivering. Now that he got a better look, your eyes were bloodshot, and your cheeks were tear-stained. Jungwon's heart clenched in his chest. He couldn't understand why he felt such an overwhelming urge to pull you into his embrace, to hold you close as if you would disappear. "Spider-Man, I—"

"Don't speak," Jungwon's voice came out as a whisper. And maybe it was now that Jungwon realized that his eyes were welled up with tears. It's been so long since he's been able to see you, and yet ironically, the only reason that he could was because your life was in danger. Jungwon let out a choked sob. "Don't say anything, [Name]."

"But I—I wanted to thank you—"

"Shhhh."

You looked so tired. He couldn't imagine how you felt, being under the control of a supervillain that has malicious intentions. But here you were, still taking it upon yourself to thank him. He couldn't even fathom what type of pain (emotional? physical? mental? you definitely weren't going to be okay after this, he knew you that well) you were going through.

Hug her, was the resounding thought that filled Jungwon's head. He almost cursed himself for thinking such a thing. After all, he wasn't yours anymore. But as he watched your worn face, he thought again. When you were still his, you always felt soothed when you were under intense stress if he hugged you tightly, the way that you always liked it.

Holding his breath, Jungwon gently lifted your head and chest, before pulling you into his arms. Almost instantly, you relaxed into his body, pushing your face into the crook of his neck. Like how you used to. You murmured something under your breath, but Jungwon was too distracted by the tears that were now definitely streaming down his face. He hadn't felt your touch in so long. He's been dreaming of getting to hold you one last time for months now.

Your eyelids began to fall, your head yielding to his shoulder, which was a tell-tale sign that you've fallen unconscious.

In the restaurant of ruin and rubble, Jungwon sat there on the debris-ridden floor, with you in his arms. Before he finally decided to get back up and take the two of you out of this place, he gave you one more tight squeeze.

"I love you," he whispered into your ear. And maybe it was wishful thinking, but he hoped that somewhere in dreamland, you heard him.

Jungwon stared out of his apartment window. It's been a few days since the Baron von Fizzlebang-Bisco's Palace incident. Baron von Fizzlebang was taken into police custody and his trial awaited him. Meanwhile, the city was still cleaning up the aftermath, with an entire block of the city being taped off.

But the city wasn't the only thing that had to be repaired.

Namely, Jungwon hadn't recovered yet. His fists still had red-purple marks on them. Even with his superhuman regenerative abilities, he had pushed himself to the extreme when he was beating up Baron von Fizzlebang the other day. But that wasn't the issue.

Ever since that day, Jungwon hadn't stopped thinking about you. Well, to be sure, he never stopped thinking about you, but he was thinking about you extra now.

He wondered how you were doing. You were a strong girl. You could withstand pretty much everything, because it was in your nature. But after an incident like this one, he was sure that you were going through a lot.

Jungwon felt selfish. He wanted to check up on you. He wanted to ask one of his friends to ask your friends how you were doing, or maybe go to your apartment as Spider-Man to check up on you himself.

But that's a purely selfish desire.

Jungwon couldn't do that to you. He broke up with you for a reason: to protect you. He'd never want to do anything to put you in danger, and by even opening an avenue of communication between him (in both his hero and civilian form) and you was dangerous in and of itself.

It scared him so deeply, the thought of losing you. But still, Jungwon wanted to be selfish. He wanted to love you greedily, to have you all to himself.

He looked out his window again, then he looked down at his wrists: the black spider-like veins looked darker today. Maybe in another lifetime, because in this lifetime, he had a duty as Spider-Man.

Speaking of which, there were few actual benefits of being Spider-Man. One of them was that Jungwon got to directly impact other people's lives. Which was why every week, the municipal government would send him all of the fan-mail that civilians had for him.

Jungwon shook the thought of you away, pushing it to the back of his mind as he. grabbed his keys, slipped on some slippers, and ventured down to his apartment complex's mailroom.

As always, his mailbox was filled to the brim with mail. From letters to postcards to care packages, Jungwon looked like a madman as he struggled to carry all of his fan=mail back up to his apartment. It sucked that he couldn't use his spider abilities to help him in broad daylight.

In fact, there was so much mail that as Jungwon traversed the hallway back to his apartment, stumbling over himself, one stray letter fell from the stack of letters that he had atop all of the packages.

He cursed under his breath, rolling his eyes. He watched as that one stray letter seemingly flew off of the stack, gracefully floating in the air for a few seconds before landing before his feet.

Jungwon huffed again. He quickly made his way back to his apartment, set down all of his fan-mail, before running back out into the hallway to pick up that pesky envelope that decided to fly away.

But as Jungwon marched down that hallway, crouching down to pick up the letter that had fallen out of his grasp, his eyes fell upon that name on that envelope.

It was your name. Jungwon snatched it up.

You wrote him fan-mail. Jungwon couldn't help but smile.

It has been about two weeks since the incident, and frankly, you're only halfway over it. You could tell that you were getting better compared to how you were in the immediate aftermath. But you still couldn't sleep at night, and you needed lots of mental preparation to go anywhere outside.

But today, you decided that you were going to put on a brave face, and stand up against your fears.

Pushing what fears you had to the back of your mind, you stared at the ceiling of your bedroom. It was late into the morning, and yet, you were wearing makeup.

Wonyoung (that smart girl, always with tricks up her sleeve), feeling apologetic about what had happened at that disaster of a date last week, begged to take you out on a girl's date today. After being cooped up in your room everyday for the past few days, you couldn't say no to her offer.

You felt a little nervous, though. The last time you went out, you got taken control of by that supervillain. But Wonyoung had been there for you the entire way, talking you through it every night. You trusted her, and you appreciated how she didn't treat you like a victim; Wonyoung wasn't babying your every step, but instead just treating you like a normal person.

And plus, it was summer. You wanted to have fun and to live your young adult life. Your eyes fluttered over to your window. Streams of yellow sunlight peeked through. Today was too beautiful. You could remember Wonyoung's excited voice over the phone a few nights ago.

"We should go take pictures!" she has squealed over the phone. "You just look toooooo pretty and we need to post something on your Instagram— to show all the guys what they're missing out on!"

You giggled. You still couldn't get used to being treated like you were single. There were indeed a few cool freedoms that came with being single. But in your mind, you still belonged to someone.

You looked at your phone. Wonyoung talked about posting pictures to make guys feel like bums for not getting on their knees and worshipping you (her words, not yours!). But when you thought about posting pictures, all you thought about was whether or not Jungwon would see them.

You squeezed your eyes shut. You needed to stop thinking about him. It wasn't healthy. But you still wondered if he thought about you, the same way you thought about him. You sat up from your bed, before you glanced into the mirror near the foot of your bed.

You hoped that he thought about you, too.

Ding dong! Oh! A ring from the front door! It must be Wonyoung! You happily promenaded to your apartment door, excited to greet your best friend with a big hug, and—

"J-Jungwon?!"

Instead of seeing your pink-wearing scheming best friend, you're greeted with your ex-boyfriend. However, for some reason, he looked more surprised than you!

"[N-Name]?!" he spluttered, his cat-like eyes as wide as saucers with his jaw falling open.

The two of you stare at each other like that for what felt like an eternity.

Your eyes fell over his features. His hair had grown a little bit longer since the last time you saw him (granted, that was half a year ago). His face looked slimmer, like he had lost weight. As you glazed over his figure, he had a backpack on his shoulders as always, but you eyed the way his biceps looked. He looked like he had put on more muscle, and before you could start ogling at him, you stopped yourself.

This was the guy that broke your heart. This was the guy that left you with no words. And now he was at your door?

"What the fuck do you want?" you spat at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Your brows crashed together, your expression turning sour. When he didn't respond, because you could tell by his expression that he was too busy checking you out, you began to close the door in his face.

"W-Wait!" he put his hands in front of him, flailing them panicked. You shot him a questioning look. "I think— I think I'm at the wrong apartment..."

You scoffed. "Oh, bullshit. What do you actually want?"

"I-I promise that I'm serious," Jungwon breathed out, and for a second you felt the walls you built for yourself threatening to crash down. He looked like a sad cat. Frantically, he shoved his hands into his pockets, searching for his phone that was squashed somewhere in them. When he finally found his phone, he fumbled with it, before showing you his screen. "I'm tutoring... a kid on your floor, I think."

You took a good look at his phone screen, and he was telling the truth.

You sighed, pinching your nose-bridge.

"Do you..." he began, his eyes refusing to look at yours. "Do you know how to get to room 1214?"

You let out another sigh, this time louder. Jungwon stumbled, stammering to explain himself again, but you put a hand up, effectively silencing him.

"Keep going down the hallway, make a left turn, and you'll find room 1214 on your right," you said simply.

"Thank you," Jungwon said, as he nodded slowly, and you hummed.

Another long moment of silence engulfed the two of you. The tension in the air was so thick that you swore you could cut it with a butter knife. You watched the way Jungwon's fingers fidgeted, a habit that he's never lost. He did this whenever he felt nervous or shy. It was a habit that you had grown to be fond of. You thought it was sweet that he was so fidgety. You tore your eyes away from him.

Was this the guy that wordlessly broke your heart?

"I'm gonna—" Jungwon started, breaking the silence. "I'm gonna go now."

He locked eyes with you, but just as he tried to break eye contact, you sent him a warning look. He didn't look away.

"Okay," you said simply. "Me too."

"Yeah."

And yet, the two of you still stood there, staring at each other. You've spent so many nights crying over him. You've never felt so much pain in your life before. There was so much anger and resentment that you had built up for him. There were a million words that you wanted to say to him, to tell him how much he hurt you.

But right now, you couldn't think of anything.

"Take care," you said.

"You too."

And with that, you slowly closed your door on him, while he slowly walked away from your door. But you swore that he kept looking back at you.

The moment that your front door clicked shut, you pressed your back up against it, before sliding down and holding your knees to your chest. You couldn't get over him when he clearly still wasn't over you. Why was he playing with you like this? Why did it have to be you, and more importantly, why did it have to be him?

Surely in time, Wonyoung showed up, and the two of you went on your little girl's day.

You huffed as you stumbled through your apartment doorway, struggling to take off your shoes amidst all of the shopping bags hanging on your arm. That Wonyoung, so eager to treat you to a nice day out. She bought you everything that you remotely showed interest in.

The moment that you arrived home, you shed all of your outdoor clothes, retreating to the comfort that was your bedroom. By now, it was dark out, and despite having a long and fun day with Wonyoung, you didn't feel tired. Unlike most days like this one that would follow a logical sequence, you still felt restless, as if your day had not been complete.

You were plagued with a weird gnawing feeling inside you. This happened a lot lately, probably just your anxiety from the past few weeks' incident.

And when you finally realized that laying in bed for hours scrolling on your phone was barely productive for an adult like you, you sighed, before sitting up from your bed.

Maybe you should write to him.

Ever since the incident at Bisco's Palace, you've found yourself especially restless. It's hard to tell if you're just paranoid, but on nights like this, you found yourself doing the same thing: writing to Spider-Man.

You used to be indifferent to the buzz around the masked hero, but now you understood it. You didn't know the reason why, but you found yourself finding comfort in simply writing to Spider-Man. It's simple things like thanking him for his service, and telling him about your day.

You glanced at the disorderly pile on your desk, of folded letters and envelopes. You never sent your letters. You've only ever sent him one letter.

The rest of your letters, which were structured more like long streams of consciousness vomited on a piece of paper, were left unsent.

You sighed. It wasn't like Spider-Man was really going to read your letters. You were just writing your thoughts out. You sat at your desk, scrolling through your Spotify Playlists to first choose the perfect moody music to get you writing. Your finger scrolled around your screen, glazing over the icons for each of your playlists.

You stopped when you saw a familiar, yet long-forgotten one.

It was a playlist that was created an entire year ago, with a simple title: love. Its icon was none other than a picture of you and Jungwon, with your cheeks smooshed up against each other. Smiling. In love.

Your finger hovered over its icon for a few moments. You haven't listened to this playlist in months. It's practically been collecting cobwebs in your Spotify account. If you listened to it now, you'd probably lose your mind. And yet you felt drawn to it.

You closed your eyes, rubbing your temples. In times in stress, we as humans seek familiarity. It's not crazy for you, who just experienced something traumatizing, to seek the solace of an old playlist reminiscent of a happier time. Right?

Play, you clicked.

Immediately, songs that you haven't heard in a long time filled your ears, the familiar tunes and melodies that you've grown to love hanging in the air.

You grabbed a pen, and began jotting down your thoughts.

'Dear Spider-Man,' you started off your letter. Below your desk, your knees bounced to the rhythm of each song— each song chosen by Jungwon, reminding you of all of his laughs and soft kisses as you and him shared earbuds on the city's underground subway.

As the black ink of your pen smudged against the side of your palm, you hummed along to the music that emitted from your phone. For a second, you could pretend that it was last summer, when you still had a boy to call yours.

You bit your lip, staring at the words scribbled on the paper.

It wasn't like Spider-Man would ever read these letters. He was a hypothetical addressee in your letters, so to speak. You took a deep breath.

'I miss him,' you wrote next, wincing as you gazed at your handwriting. How embarrassing, that you're confiding in the hypothetical version of a superhero in your head about your boy troubles. Whatever. You continued, 'I don't think I'll be able to move on from him, not any time soon.'

You stared at your words again. Oh, isn't this just pathetic?

You groaned, exasperated. You seriously just needed to get a life, or something. Just as you were about to throw yourself into your bed and scream into your pillows, leaving an unfinished letter open on your desk—

Crash!

You whipped your head toward the source of the sound: your bedroom balcony.

For a moment, your shoulders tensed. The last time a loud sound filled your ears, you got your mind controlled. And plus, it wasn't safe being a woman that lived alone, especially in a city notorious for its crime.

With trembling eyes, you stared out your glass balcony doors. It was completely dark out, save for the streams of light staining your balcony from your room. There's loud sounds all the time, but this time, you were 100% certain that the sound was on your balcony.

Should you go check it out? Or should you just turn off all your lights and jump into bed?

But before you could scare yourself even more, a strong figure slowly rose from the darkness. Hunched over, as if he was in pain, emerged a familiar red and blue hero.

"S-Spider-Man?!" you gaped to yourself. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

And despite the darkness, you and him seem to lock eyes. Spider-Man, although it was him that was intruding on your property, seemed even more surprised by your presence, physically jolting away as if he was really that taken aback by you. And unfortunately for him, just as he was about to scurry away, you bursted through your balcony doors.

"Spider-Man!" you called out, as the cool night air kissed your face. You could feel goosebumps rise on your skin, as your thin pajamas did you no justice against the night coolness.

Although he was masked, you swore that Spider-Man was looking at you like you were some kind of freak of nature. But you ignored his gaze, noticing the way his clothed thigh had a massive dark-red splotch on it.

"I-Is that blood?" you peeped, pointing to his thigh. That would explain why Spider-Man had such an unceremonious crash landing into your apartment balcony; he was injured. You looked back up at the hero's masked face. "Spider-Man, are you okay—"

"I-I'm fine!" Spider-Man blurted, his voice shaky and almost uncertain. The hero staggered, stumbling to his feet. You could tell that he was in pain, but was trying to hide it. "I'm okay."

You watched as Spider-Man limped, quietly wincing in pain to the railing of your balcony, gripping it tightly to support himself.

He looked over his shoulder. Even when his face wasn't visible, it was like he was sheepish. Timid, even.

"I'm...." Spider-Man began. You could see his toned back tense. "I'm sorry."

You blinked. "For what?"

The hero hesitated. Why was Spider-Man being so... shy? And unassuming? Wasn't he this grand and powerful hero?

"For...." he drew out his syllables, as if he was grasping for thoughts in his head. "For abruptly— um— crashing. Into... your apartment."

A curve formed on your lips. "No, no. no!" you waved your hands in front of yourself. "Don't worry at all!"

You glanced at the wound on his thigh. Blood ran down his thigh, seeping through his costume. "Are you sure you're—"

Spider-Man interrupted you with a loud groan of pain, as he attempted to take a step forward. He crumbled to his knees, choked cries of pain falling from his lips.

The hero cursed under his breath, muttering about some "bastard" stabbing him.

You rushed to his side, your arms wrapping around his torso to pull him back to his feet. Despite being in pain from his injury, he seemed even more baffled by your touch, flinching away.

"S-Sorry," he apologized again.

"It's okay," you shot him a small smile. "Why don't you come inside?"

Jungwon wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

After his tutoring session with one of your neighbors, Jungwon went home and decided to take a long nap. After all, running into you, his ex, was definitely not something that he intended to do. He needed a nap to clear his mind.

Except, that was not what Jungwon got. Instead, he got another dream of you dying. Combined with seeing you getting controlled by that supervillain, Jungwon was not in the right headspace when he awoke.

Once again, with goosebumps littering his arms, cold sweat rolling down his temples, Jungwon's first instinct, as always, was to jump out of that damn window and take a lap around the city. By the time he finished a lap, it was already dark, and yet neither his mind nor body had the sharp precision that he needed to fight criminals.

Which was why when fighting a group of bandits, Jungwon dishonorably got stabbed in the thigh (though, of course, he kicked their asses to the moon).

And after he tried to swing away via his webs, his painful wound in the thigh made him miscalculate and web, and he tumbled down from the sky.

And that's how Jungwon found himself sitting on your bed.

This time, instead of breaking up with you, he was clad in his spandex suit, waiting for you as you rummaged through your bathroom cabinet.

Jungwon looked around your room. Everything was the same.

You had the same plushies on your bed, with the scent of your perfume still strong in the air. Your desk is still cluttered with the same papers and pens.

Everything, and really everything, was the same. Like one of those unfortunate true-crime cases, where someone dies under mysterious circumstances, and yet their home is completely untouched, with no signs of disturbance. As if nothing had changed at all, save for the absence of life.

It was a strange stillness, and yet, Jungwon shook his head. He was in no position to judge. Though, Jungwon's eyes did catch something interesting.On your desk lay a messy stack of envelopes and papers, some crumpled up and others pristinely folded. Like letters.

And maybe Jungwon was paranoid, or heartbroken, but his mind wandered to the worst places. Were you seeing another guy? Maybe the guy that you went on that date with. Was that why you were probably writing love notes?

Have you moved on that quickly? Was it that easy to forget him? Jungwon's heart ached, and against his better judgement, he rose to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain in his thigh. He creeped up to your desk, limping with each step. With each inch closer, he could feel the world shattering around him.

And when he realized that there was an unfinished letter already in the works, freely laying on your desk, his heart dropped.

Jungwon gazed at the stack of letters, then back at the half-written letter played on your desk. But his eyes caught the heading of the letter: 'Dear Spider-Man.'

And it was now that Jungwon realized another crucial detail: your phone, also laying on your desk, was playing music. Playing music from the playlist that you and him made together.

"Spider-Man?"

Jungwon whipped his head around as your voice pulled him out of thought. And before he could even question why you would be writing to him of all people, you were already throwing all of your bandages onto your bed, rushing profusely to him as you cried, "Don't look at those!"

You tugged on Jungwon's arm, pulling him and gently pushing him onto your bed. Your bottom lip jutted out into a small pout, your face painted with an embarrassed expression.

"You were not supposed to see that," you murmured with your brows knitted together, standing in front of the now sitting hero. When Jungwon didn't respond, you continued, your voice breathy. "Just— Just forget you saw anything."

Jungwon nodded slowly. Under the mask, he glanced back to your desk. Were all of those letters addressed to him? As in, Spider-Man? And why were you still listening to that playlist?

"It's okay," he said reassuringly, even though he was extremely uncertain himself. "I didn't see anything."

You visibly relaxed, letting out a sigh. "I-It's just embarrassing."

Your eyes fluttered up to Jungwon's masked face. You opened your mouth to speak, but Jungwon could tell by the way your lips trembled ever-so-slightly and your brows crashed together that you felt uncomfortable.

You made that face when you felt like you needed to talk. Jungwon swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, his arms opening up and his palms opening. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"But—"

Jungwon hoped that you could see his earnest smile from behind his mask. "I mean it. Don't worry about it."

Your eyes narrowed, as if you were studying his face. You sighed again. "Okay, sorry."

A silence engulfed the two of you, as you reached for the bandages and first-aid supplies that you had so abruptly thrown onto your bed earlier, completely unaware of the way Jungwon watched you so intently. He hadn't been so close to you in so long. With every flicker of your eyes and twitch of your face, Jungwon admired you closely.

What he would do to reach out and cup your cheek again, to feel your living and breathing self against his hands. To verify that you hadn't died. To confirm that you were safe and sound, alive and well.

"Can I—" you started, breaking the silence— "Can I help with your wound?"

Jungwon blinked. He had high levels of regeneration, so in a few hours, the wound on his thigh would be completely gone. It would be better to not waste both of your time.

But how you looked at him with wide, innocuous eyes, filled with worry and your characteristic kindness, Jungwon's greed clouded his mind.

"I would love that," Jungwon replied, his voice a near whisper.

How shameful of him, to sit here and selfishly bask in your presence as if he hadn't broken your heart.

You smiled, taking your rubbing alcohol and coming to Jungwon's side. Quickly, you started at your ministrations. Jungwon hissed at the burning sensation of the rubbing alcohol on his open wound (he had forgotten what it felt like), whispering apologies with each squeak of pain that fell from his lips. You hummed to yourself, your delicate face so focused.

"You know, Spider-Man," you began as you continued treating his wound, your voice soft, "I always wonder if you remember me."

Jungwon scoffed, his lips moving faster than his brain. Breathy, but eager, words came out, in a tone that Jungwon had always reserved for you. "How could I ever forget you, [Name]?"

You let out a peep, your face slowly morphing into a flustered expression. "W-What are you talking about?"

Shit. "I-I mean—"

Jungwon's ears burned, the apples of his cheeks prickling with warmth. This is not what he meant to do! Jungwon cleared his throat, sucking in a sharp breath to recompose himself.

"W-What I meant was that I—" Jungwon narrowed his eyes, thinking of an explanation— "I could never forget what happened at Bisco's."

You blinked at him a few times, your face breaking out into a frown. "Oh."

Jungwon sunk his teeth into his bottom lip. Did that make you upset?

"I always remember the people that I save," he continued, observing your facial expressions carefully. "I could never forget the impact I made on others, and that includes you, [Name]."

You shook your head understanding, but Jungwon could still see the frown on your face. "You're right," you said. Your eyes met with his. "You really have made an impact on me, Spider-Man."

You reached for the bandages, beginning to slowly wrap them around his wounded thigh.

"You know..." you started slowly. A bashful curve formed on your lips, nearly forming one of those cute grins that you always did whenever you felt particularly happy or appreciative. "I think about you quite a bit."

Jungwon cocked a brow.

"The truth is," you continued, the bashful expression on your face growing, "I write letters to you whenever I feel like shit."

"Why?" Jungwon blurted. He knew he probably shouldn't ask. It would make him spiral even harder, but his curiosity got the better of him.

You let out a chuckle, closing your eyes and shaking your head in embarrassment. "Because you saved me. And because you're a pretty universal symbol of strength and reliability."

You looked up at him again, flexing your arms with a goofy grin. "You're this city's number one defender. I write to you because I feel like even if I can't send you anything, I could rely on you, y'know?"

"Yeah," Jungwon breathed. He hadn't seen you smile like that in a while, and your reasoning was un-surprisingly sweet. Because you were that type of person. He couldn't help the way his lips pulled up into a small smile. "That makes sense."

"How about you, Spider-Man?" you asked.

"What about me?"

"What do you do when you feel like shit?" you cocked your head, blinking owlishly. "You must go through a lot as a hero. What makes you feel like you should keep going?"

You, he thought. You were what made him want to keep being a good person. All his deep fears of failure and imperfection were intrinsically rooted in his desires to make himself worthy for you. It was all you.

"You," Jungwon said. But he couldn't have you. "... And other people that I've saved. Knowing that I have helped others is enough to keep me going."

You nodded your head, understanding, your lips forming an 'oh' shape. You continued wrapping his thigh with bandages. "Do you ever check up on the people that you save?"

"I wish I could," Jungwon responded. "I would love to check up on everyone."

"So why don't you?"

You were always so curious. Jungwon pursed his lips. "Because there's too many people that I've saved. I don't know all of them by name. I don't know how to find them."

You hummed. You finished wrapping Jungwon's leg with bandages, using scissors to cut the cloth bandages and securing them. You patted your hands off, sending the hero another smile. "Aaaand you're all done."

"Thank you," Jungwon held a fixed gaze on you again. It took all of his self-control to not throw his arms around you and embrace you. "I don't know how I can repay you—"

You waved your hands in front of you profusely. "No, no! I'm repaying you for saving me—"

Jungwon shook his head. "If it wasn't for your balcony, I would have probably died."

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating, before a lightbulb seemingly popped above your head. You swiftly took Jungwon's hands, squeezing them tightly.

"Come visit me."

Jungwon spluttered. "W-What?"

"You said that you didn't know how to repay me, and that you didn't check up on people you saved because you didn't know how to find them," you gushed eagerly. "You found me. You can repay me by visiting me ever so often."

"But— But why?"

You shrugged. "It gets lonely sometimes," was all you said, but your wide and glassy eyes staring up at him so pleadingly made it hard to say no. "Please?"

"I'll try."

You didn't catch it at first. "What?"

"I'll try," Jungwon murmured. "To come back. If I can."

You chuckled. "Good enough for me."

Jungwon wasn't sure if he made a promise that he could keep.

"Good morning! Welcome to Maeum's Coffee Shop, what can I get you— Damn it, [Name], did you have a rough night again?"

You winced at Wonyoung's words. Wonyoung worked at a local coffee shop, and as a good friend, you always came in to support her.

It's been a few days since you found Spider-Man on your balcony, and you would be lying if you said that you weren't excited. You stayed up a few nights waiting for Spider-Man to crash-land on you again. It wasn't anything romantic for sure, you were just interested in talking to him. The truth was, you stayed up most nights anyway. You stayed up most nights thinking about everything, unable to truly rest. If you were going to be restless, you might as well think about your new friend Spider-Man.

"The usual," you murmured to your friend, who hummed understandingly, despite you completely ignoring her question. You rubbed your eyes. "I'm so tired, Wonyoung."

Wonyoung's bright eyes ran over your figure: you were wearing sweats with a hoodie draped over your shoulders, as if you just woke up. She chuckled at you, before ringing you up. "We could go to the beach after my shift, if you want."

You groaned as you swiped your card. You didn't feel like doing anything, but when it was Wonyoung, it was hard to say no. "Fine."

You grinned lazily as she cheered, before you took a seat in the coffee shop, slumping over yourself as you waited for your coffee. You could hear some light jazz playing, but especially the laughter of Wonyoung as she charmed customers, and most importantly, the flagrant whispers of her coworkers.

There was always one downside of visiting Wonyoung while she worked: her coworkers, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jake, who just so happened to be your ex-boyfriend's best friends. And now as you tried to fight your tiredness, all you could hear now was their whispers. Their frantic whispers.

If you weren't literally about to fall asleep, pulling your hood over your head, you would have shot them a glare, maybe even text Wonyoung to tell them to shut up.

"....that's definitely his..." you could hear Jake whisper-yell.

"...ngwon's gonna blow his shit..... Hurry, call him!"

"—Shit, he's on his way already!"

Ding! The doorbell of the coffee shop rang, making everyone in the shop (including yourself) turn their heads. And lo and behold, standing at the doorway was none other than your ex-boyfriend.

You couldn't even bring yourself to care. You could hear his friends practically shouting in the back while your phone pinged a billion messages from Wonyoung, but you just continued to push your face into your arms, taking comfort in the hoodie that you had thrown on this morning.

You hoped that Jungwon didn't notice that you were here. Maybe that would be better for your mental stability.

"[N-Name]?" Sunoo's shaky voice called out from the counter, where Sunoo, Sunghoon, and Jake liked to hang around. Your drink was ready. Finally.

Lifting yourself off of the cafe table, you trudged over to the counter, only a few feet away from the cash register. Where Jungwon was standing, getting ready to order. Which meant that he 100% saw you, and now he 100% knows that you're here.

Damn it. You really couldn't take seeing his face today. You fiddled with your hood, pulling it closer to you to hide your face.

"Here's your.... drink," Sunoo said, slowly and awkwardly, as if you were some alien. You rolled your eyes, fighting the horrible feeling of Jungwon's eyes boring into the back of your head, as you took your coffee from the counter.

As you read over the labeling and Sharpie'd name on your cup, you verified that this drink was indeed yours. And just as you were about to turn on your heel and get the fuck out of there (away from Jungwon, who was now 100000% staring at you), Jake just had to open his mouth.

"I-Isn't that Jungwon's hoodie?" Jake blurted, throwing an accusatory finger at the hoodie draped over your shoulders.

You didn't know what came first: Wonyoung's gasp from the cash register, you choking on your spit, or Jungwon spluttering from where he was. Sunoo and Sunghoon whacked Jake in the head, but the damage was already done.

Once again, for no apparent reason, you and Jungwon found each other. You couldn't fight the urge to turn over your shoulder and spot Jungwon, who was staring at you with big, shivering eyes, his ears red and his lips agape. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. Your emotions were so erratic. Sometimes when you saw pictures of Jungwon you felt nothing, but now that he was in front of you, face to face, you wanted to scream and cry.

You looked down at the hoodie that enveloped you. Now that Jake mentioned it, yes, this hoodie was Jungwon's. In fact, you could remember how you acquired such a thing. One time, it was raining so Jungwon let you wear his hoodie, and you never gave it back. What once belonged to Jungwon was now yours, and you've made it such a normal part of your life that you forgot that it had ever been his.

This hoodie, having lived in your closet for months and months, smelled like your own laundry detergent. And as you brusquely walked past Jungwon, blinking back the tears that you hadn't even noticed were collecting in your eyes, you wished for something abnormal: you wished that this hoodie still smelled like Jungwon, even after all this time.

So that you could have something to remember him by.

Jungwon sucked in a sharp breath. Temptation was a work of sin, and unfortunately, it was not his fault that the devil was stronger than a man.

There were many reasons that Jungwon was so committed to keeping a distance from you. He wanted to respect your space, and he was dedicated to protecting you. But even more, there was an intimacy that was never speaking to you again. In his last act of love for you, Jungwon would grant you the peace that his presence could never give you. He hoped that his absence spoke of the words that he could never have said. And yet, as Jungwon sat on the ledge of some building, he watched the cars pass wistfully a few hundred meters below his feet.

In the daytime, he felt like he could deal with the guilt and loneliness. But at night, it was nearly impossible. It's been another week since Jungwon had uneventfully landed on your balcony, and you had requested that he, as Spider-Man, visit you.

And frankly, Jungwon wasn't going to visit you. Even if he promised you, he was so sure that he couldn't keep it. After all, he had a commitment. But when the summer air is so warm yet so unforgiving, sending hot beads of sweat running down Jungwon's face, the frustration and guilt festered, devouring Jungwon from the inside out. That was how Jungwon found himself only a few buildings away from your apartment. He teetered on the ledge. Half of him wanted so desperately to just swing onto your balcony again, to just see you again. But the other half of him couldn't stand putting you in harm's way any longer.

So imagine Jungwon's shame as he picked up his feet and swung by your apartment. All he wanted to do was check on you. He had good eyes, so hopefully he'd be able to catch a glimpse of you through your windows as he briefly came by. And yet, instead of finding you safe and sound through your bedroom window, what Jungwon saw from a distance was you, on your balcony, looking sad. Wistful, even. You had your arms over the railings, and even when he was afar, Jungwon could recognize any of your expressions, and this one, he could tell that you were crying.

His body moved faster than his mind, with zero hesitation, zooming right onto your balcony. Jungwon's mind was still racing, questions blurring through his mind, hesitating about what he should do. Why were you crying? Was it someone that made you feel this way? But his body knew his intentions better. His body knew the sorts of yearning that he had no chance of resisting. And just as swift as he came, Jungwon found himself breathing heavily as he landed back on the railing of your balcony.

"S-Spider-man?!" you sniffled. Under the dark sky, he could see the way your eyes lined with tears, your tearful eyes puffy and bloodshot. You quickly hid your face in your sleeve, turning your face away from him. "Wh—What are you doing here?"

"I..." Jungwon's mouth ran dry. He didn't have an answer for you. Seeing you like this made him feel on-edge, nervous even. He didn't know why he was here with you. He didn't know why his body forced him to keep crawling back to you. He didn't want to be here, it went against all instinct. He stared at the back of your head. "I'm— Um—"

You let out a loud, high-pitched sob, before you threw your arms around Jungwon's shoulders, burying yourself into his chest. Jungwon stiffened under your touch. It felt weird. He hadn't been close to really anyone at all, at least not physically. If it wasn't you that he was physically intimate with, he'd rather not have it at all. But even when it was you, intimacy felt so foreign, so lost. But as your choked sobs rung through the air, your arms holding onto him like he'd save you, Jungwon relaxed. Mixed in with the smell of the night air, you smelled like your usual peachy perfume. Your touch, just like he had remembered it, was soft. Kind.

Jungwon brought a hesitant hand up to the small of your back, in an attempt to quell your distress. Yet, he felt such a weird warmth as you clung onto him.

"I h—hate him, Spider-Man!" you cried, your hand gripping his forearm. "I hate him— so much."

And maybe if Jungwon was stronger than he was now, he would have just listened to you silently without any questions, patting your back and lending you a shoulder to cry on. But he wasn't.

"Who?" he breathed into your ear, his brows knitted together. That horrible gnawing feeling filled his stomach once again. He didn't want to know what your answer was, but that sickening curiosity was burning from the inside out. "Who do you hate?—Did you— Did you get hurt?"

You shook your head, looking up at the hero. The moonlight reflected off your eyes. You looked so pretty, even when you were crying. Jungwon's heart ached at the sight of your pained face. My baby, he thought. After all this time, you could commit all the grievances in the world, and if you just looked at him with your big, teary eyes, he would acquit you of all your crimes.

You tugged on his arm, your glossy eyes staring at him like he was some god, pulling him back into your room. And against all resolutions that Jungwon tried to make to himself, he followed you in anyway.

As your balcony door clicked shut, Jungwon watched as you pulled him onto your bed with you, pulling him as close as you could as you continued to cry, murmuring about how much you hated "him."

This time, Jungwon just let his eyes fall shut. He hadn't laid down in your bed in a while, and frankly, he thought your bed was more comfortable than his. With you so close to him, and his arms wrapped around you, for a split second, it felt like he was back together with you. It felt like another one of those nights where you'd cry into his arms about how stressed you were, and all he could offer up was his presence to console you.

"I know, I know," he gently whispered into your ears. You always loved it when he reassured you like that. He rubbed slow circles on your back, continuing to whisper soft reassurances into your ear, even if he knew that you couldn't hear him. "I know, love."

"I c-cant get over him," you lamented. At this point, Jungwon's chest was wet. "I don't know why I c-can't. I h-hate him so much."

Jungwon gulped as his gut twisted.

"Tell me," he rasped. He knew what your words meant. He knew better than anyone that you were talking about him, that it was him that you hated. But he needed to hear it from your lips first, to get real confirmation. Despite the weak feeling in his knees and the pang in his chest, he wanted to listen to you.

After all, he'd do anything to make you feel better, even if you didn't know it was him. And he knew how to do that exactly.

You lifted your head to look at him in the eyes, shaking your head profusely. "But i-it's pa—pathetic," you stammered, but when you could feel Jungwon's unwavering gaze on you, you gave in. Resting your cheek on the hero's shoulder, you spoke in a low, shaky voice. You told him everything— every thought and emotion that's been swirling your mind. You told him of how you still constantly thought about Jungwon, how you felt like in every crevice of your life he was there, how you've done everything you could to get over him with fruitless results. You cried and cried and cried. You detailed to him what types of restless nights you had, what kinds of thoughts swirled through your head whenever you thought about your ex.

"I miss him," you ended your tear-filled rant with. "I mi-miss him s-so much and I feel so—so d-dumb."

And if you weren't so caught up in your feelings, you would have noticed how the hero's body tensed with each word that fell from your lips.

A silence fell over you and Spider-Man, as you rested your cheek on his shoulder, letting your bated breaths calm down with each hiccup. You let your heart rate slow down, as your eyes— sore from crying— rested. Against you, the hero was so... still. He was definitely breathing, but it was slow and tranquil. If you listened hard enough, you could hear his heart beat; weirdly enough, it was erratic and loud.

That's what Jungwon's heartbeat sounds like when he's excited, you thought, before shaking your head and pushing that thought into the back of your mind. The mere thought of Jungwon made your stomach churn. You didn't want to even entertain that thought.

"Spider-Man...." you began in a soft voice, your finger coming up to poke his masked face. No response. "Spider-Man, are you asleep—"

Suddenly, Jungwon jolted up from the bed, his voice ripping through the air: "Boo!"

You let out a loud shriek, jumping away from him, surprised. You stared at him for a few moments, before Jungwon bursted out into giggles. On your bed, you watched as the red-and-blue masked hero who had just tried to startle you attempted to conceal his giggles, clamping a hand over his mouth.

"S-Sorry—" his voice was shaky, trying so goddamn hard not to laugh. Airy laughs escaped his lips, filling the air with something that felt all too familiar.

Despite having just cried for what seemed like forever, you slapped his chest, your lips pulling up into a wobbly smile. Spider-Man's laughter was contagious, and even as you continued to lightly punch him, you couldn't help but let giggles fall from your own mouth.

"Sh-Shut up!" you said between laughs. Having enough, you reached for a stray pillow and threw it at him. "You're so annoying!"

You couldn't remember the last time you laughed like this with someone. In fact, perhaps if you weren't so busy beating Spider-Man up like your life depended on it, you would have noticed the way your beloved hero was watching you closely. Jungwon knew exactly how to get you to loosen up; and in this case, it was to do something so stupid and dorky that you had no choice but to laugh.

"Ow! Ow!" Jungwon squirmed like a spider that had just gotten hit by bug spray. He let you win, as now he was pinned down on the bed, with you smothering him with your pillows. "White flag—Ack!"

Your laughter rang through the room. You weren't even that strong, but Jungwon did not dare to use his own strength on you. That wouldn't be fair.

That's right, he thought. Forget about me. Forget about the pain, forget about everything that I've done to you. Your eyes crinkled and your nose scrunched and your lips parted when you threw your head back and laughed. If he could preserve that laughter for the rest of his life, he would. Forget about me, baby.

"Jesus Christ, Spider-Man!" you snickered, as you held him down with a hand on his hard chest. "I thought you were stronger than this."

Jungwon's strong hand slid to wrap around your wrist. "You really wanna see strength?"

A weak yet sly grin spread across your face. You leaned down to him, so close that your noses touched. Almost purring,"Try me— Eek!"

That was all the confirmation he needed. In an instant, Jungwon flipped the two of you over, crashing into the soft plushness of your bed. This time, he was the one pinning you down. And while airy laughter fell from your lips, the surprise of Jungwon's outburst reducing you to giggles, Jungwon was distracted. You're just so pretty, so strikingly beautiful that he had no choice but to admire you.

And if Jungwon wasn't so distracted, he would have noticed the way that you stared at him owlishly, with a type of hunger and curiosity that was all too familiar. As if a lightbulb had switched on, your arms slithered up from under him to wrap around his neck. With glassy eyes and a girlish giggle, you gently pulled him toward your face.

Jungwon's body froze up as you plant a soft, tender kiss on his masked cheek, a spluttering sound coming from his mouth.

"Relax, silly," you rasped into his ear with a chuckle. Even with the mask, your fingers found their way to the crook between Jungwon's ear and jaw, delicately running your fingers over that spot and mindlessly caressing it— something that always made shivers roll down Jungwon's back. "You can save lives but you can't handle a girl kissing you?"

Jungwon's face felt hot. "Shut— Shut up!" That night, you eventually laughed yourself to sleep, and after tucking you in, Jungwon left with a bittersweet feeling in his chest. He hoped that he'd given you any type of emotional refuge, so that you would eventually forget the hurt and pain that he had caused you. 

To be a girl, after a long week of stress, unloading your worries and the like in a nice steamy bath— Oh, that is the best thing any person could experience.

You relished in the warm solitude of your bathtub. You hummed along to the quiet music you liked to play when you bathed, the peachy bubbles and scent of your soap filling your senses. You relaxed with an "ahh" into the water. Tonight was going to be perfect. After this bath, you were going to do your skincare routine and lather yourself with your new yummy lotion. Then you'd go make yourself a late night snack. Then maybe you'd spend the night reading some manga, or watching some shows, or anything you wanted frankly.

You had worries: finding an internship, employment, boy troubles. But this was no time to care about them. You let your eyelids gently fall shut... and maybe if you weren't careful, you might... just... drift... off...

"Eep!" You're startled back into reality by the sound of a distant crash! You glance around your bathroom, clutching yourself. It didn't sound nearby, so you had nothing to worry about. You sunk into the water again, letting your tense muscles relax into the warmth. Your tired eyes fell closed again. And maybe this time.... you'd be permitted the peace... to just... drift... off...

Crash! You jolted up, your eyes shooting open. This time, this crashing sound was much louder, and appeared to be much closer. Following that outburst was the sound of rustling and scrambling, which (in your already paranoid state) confirmed your fears that whatever the cause was, it was too close to you.

Emboldened, you stepped out of your bathtub, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your body tightly, before slipping your shower slippers on.

And maybe you're dumb. Really dumb. But you peaked your head out your bathroom door, eyes glazing over the hallway between your bathroom and kitchen. Everything seemed fine. You crept out of the bathroom. Your entire apartment was quiet, maybe a little too quiet. Slowly, you made your way into your bedroom. It looked normal, not a single hair out of place. Nothing was wrong then.

Since you were already out of the bathroom, you should probably start dressing anyway. You loosened your grip around the towel, and just as the fabric fell from your chest—

"[N-Name]?!"

There had to be something psychological about the way bright red and blue were incredible at camouflaging, because you had not noticed the red and blue superhero perched at your window. And it seemed like he didn't notice you either, until now.

"Spider-Man?!" you cried. But it was too late. There you were, naked in all your glory and exposed entirely to the spider hero himself. You didn't know what was worse. The feeling of the cool air hitting your skin, sending goosebumps on your arms, or the feeling of Spider-Man practically ogling at you. It didn't seem to matter because the two of you stood like that: in silence, in complete and utter horror.

"I-I'm..." You've never seen Spider-Man more flustered, but if you weren't too busy trying to cover yourself up, scrambling for your fallen towel, you would have noticed the way the hero's hand shot up to clutch his face in embarrassment. A habit that you loved to see in your ex-boyfriend. "S... Sorr—"

"Get out!" you cried, clutching your towel so tightly as you began reaching for all of the pillows and plushes on your bed, hurling at the hero at full-force. Your face burned with embarrassment as you heaved. "Out! N-Now!"

Spider-Man simply stood there, stunned, which was weird considering that he should have a fast enough reaction time to stop you. Frustrated, you threw yourself on your bed, throwing the blanket over your naked body and pushing your face into the mattress, humiliated and flustered beyond belief.

"Get out!" you cried again, your eyes almost welling up with tears with how embarrassed you were. You felt so hot all over that you could probably melt. You hadn't felt this way— this flustered and embarrassed— in so long. You murmured, "What are you even doing here?!"

Finally breaking from his stupor, Spider-Man spluttered, "I-I just wanted to check up... on you."

You groaned from under the blanket, muffled, and that seemed to egg the hero on with a squeak. Words tumbling from his mouth like water, he squeals, "It seems like you're doing well! Youlookgoodasever—I mean— In all the years I've known you, you always look amazing— Like— Uhm— I— You're always—" he sucked in a deep breath, and you could hear how red his face was under the mask— "Beautiful."

There's a long silence, before Spider-Man nearly shouts, "Okay bye!"

And with that, he climbed out your balcony, and swung away. You stay where you are under the blanket all huddled up for a few moments, before you let out a giddy little chuckle. You flipped over to lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, before it hit you.

"Years?" you said aloud. Spider-Man said that you've been beautiful in all the "years" that he's known you.

You sat up. But you swore you only knew him for a few months.

Hm. Interesting.

Jungwon cursed under his breath. Fuck. He was in a pickle. After a few weeks in hiding, archvillain Baron von Fizzlebang was back for more, this time with more to show. It seemed like every time, he was getting progressively worse and worse. New gadgets, new costumes, new methods of entrancing people. First, Baron von Fizzlebang entranced a mob to rob a bank. Then, he controlled some elementary schoolers and tried to get them to walk into oncoming traffic (really evil of him). Most recently, the supervillain tried to possess the entire fire department and make them commit arson in an ironic turn of events. If it weren't for Jungwon's restless fighting, the entire city might have gone up in flames already.

Simultaneously, against his own better judgement, yet in alignment with his heart, Jungwon found himself intentionally coming to see you more. It's shameful that despite cutting you out of his life he still tried to keep you at an arm's reach. But oh, Jungwon was so greedy. Each time your face lit up when he appeared on your balcony left him eager for more. Every smile and little touch had him hungry. Hungry for more of you, hungry to keep you for himself, hungry to hide you from the world and selfishly have you all to himself. And the worst part was, your grief and sadness over civilian-Jungwon was slowly dissipating with time: you were reverting back to the you that he knew, not the sad, crestfallen version of you.

But, he had no time to think of that. Right now, Jungwon was beaten up pretty badly, resting atop the roof of a building and leaning against some structure there.

It's not easy to fight one Baron von Fizzlebang, when he's able to manipulate up to a hundred people to do his own bidding. Jungwon doesn't want to hurt the civilians under Baron von Fizzlebang's control, but how is he supposed to win at all if these civilians are being used to attack him?

One eye was incapacitated, with blood dripping down Jungwon's forehead and his lip bleeding. Even in the darkening night sky, Jungwon could tell that there were a few tears here and there on his hero costume, but the worst part was that Jungwon's right shoulder was most definitely out of commission.

Luckily, Jungwon got the victimized civilians to safety. Unluckily, Baron von Fizzlebang was still on the loose, pretty much unscathed. Jungwon could work under severe pressure, with great injuries too. But for some reason, he absolutely couldn't think straight as he stumbled to his feet, clutching his injured shoulder. He blinked his one working eye slowly, trying to see clearly, but there was too much blood coming from his head after getting slammed against a brick wall for him to get a clear view.

At the very least, Jungwon needed to locate where the villain went—

"Yoo-hoo!" a sing-songy voice boomed, and Jungwon whipped his pounding head around. "Spidey-Spidey!~"

Lo and behold, Baron von Fizzlebang was (for some reason) suspended in the air, completely uninjured, a stark difference from Jungwon's hunched-over, painful form. With his extravagant costume, he waved mockingly at Jungwon, a cackle spilling from him. "I'm back for more, Spidey. Are you?"

Jungwon's eyes narrowed, a pained grunt escaping his lips before he limped toward the villain. He sucked in a sharp breath. The blood from his bleeding lip tasted metallic on his tongue, but his physical pain mattered not— not when the livelihood and safety of the city was on the line because of this maniac.

"Yeah," Jungwon responded breathily, stumbling. "Come get me."

Much to Jungwon's chagrin, from Baron von Fizzlebang came some strange metal contraption. With big and long metal tentacle arms with grabby hands at the ends, Baron von Fizzlebang laughed maniacally as his new gargantuan device conjured a physical reaction out of Jungwon. Faster than Jungwon could move, the villain's metal arms snatched him up.

"Let me go—Ack!" Jungwon squirmed in the contraption's grasp.

"No," Baron von Fizzlebang said simply. "All you do is ruin my plans to take over this city!"

Jungwon cried in pain as the metal hands squeezed him tighter. The villain laughed again. "Have you ever had to experience someone try to ruin something you care about, Spider-Man?" Jungwon opened his mouth to choke a retort, but the Baron continued. "Or in your case, someone that you care about?"

Jungwon continued to squirm in the metal hands' grasp, the villain taking it as a sign to continue his villainous monologue.

"You don't think that I don't know you have a secret little girlfriend, right? She's the same one I claimed that one night at Bisco's." At the sound of that, Jungwon tensed up even more. No.... Don't tell me.."Maybe I should let this little spider go. To make you really feel my pain, why don't I go pay your little girlfriend a visit again."

"No!—" tore from Jungwon's throat, but it was too late. With panic filling his body, Baron von Fizzlebang's metal tentacles hurled him through the sky before the villain took off. Presumably to find you. And even though Jungwon was falling through the sky with an incapacitated eye and shoulder, all he could think about was you.

Every single fear and made-up scenario of you getting hurt or even worse, dying, as a result of Jungwon ran through his head in the milliseconds that he was in the air.

Just as Jungwon was about to slam against a sky-scraper, he shot a web to catch himself. His hands shook as he stabilized himself against another wall.

Dammit, dammit, dammit— I'm so fucking stupid— She's in danger now— Everything that he had feared was coming true, and it was all a result of Jungwon's selfishness and negligence and— Jungwon took a deep breath, not noticing that he had neglected to breathe as he spiraled. He shoved his face in his hands. Think, think, think. He had to do something.

He looked at his hands. He had to go find you, and warn you. Move you to safety, make sure you're somewhere safe where that maniac couldn't find you.

Even with all his injuries, nothing stopped Jungwon as he shot webs across the sky. With all the remaining strength in his body, and with all the power he could muster up, Jungwon flew across the sky to where he knew you'd be: in your apartment.

And just as he expected, you were in your room, peacefully listening to music and painting your nails. Usually, he'd be courteous and wait for you to welcome him in. But Jungwon had no time to waste: he crashed onto your balcony, practically busting into your room through the doors.

"Spider-Man?!" you cried, startled by his sudden entrance.

"You have to leave," Jungwon breathed with labored huffs. He clamored toward you, grabbing you by your shoulders. "I-I don't have time to explain—"

"What— What are you talking about?—"

Jungwon gripped your shoulders, the vehemence in his voice resounding as he desperately repeated, "You have to leave. It-It's not safe for you— I need you to leave and go somewhere sa—"

"Spider-Man," you said firmly. Jungwon breathed shakily, swallowing down hard. He shook his head. It felt like the world had fallen into his shoulders.

"Please, [Name]," he pleaded. Even with a mask, you can hear his sheer desperation. "Please listen to me this time."

You stared at him, with a curious yet concerned look, like you were studying him. “Please,” Jungwon said again, his voice high-pitched and cracking. His grip on you loosened, but his head hung low.“Please.”

You kept your eyes stuck on him, but Jungwon couldn’t focus. All he could think about was how you could die. Everything hurt, and yet nothing did at the same time. The mere thought of something even worse happening to you made Jungwon’s gut twist, the oncoming fear so great that it effectively numbed everything in him.

“I can’t— I can’t lose you—“

There was something unsettling about you that Jungwon never figured out. You’re sensitive and soft, but strong-willed and stern. But you’re also a level of smart that Jungwon couldn’t understand.

Which was why he couldn’t possibly understand why you grabbed him by his shoulders, pulled him into you, and slammed your lips against his. You let your lips stay on his for a little bit, but before you could pull away, all the hunger and fear consumed Jungwon whole. His large hands grabbed you by the waist, pulling you flush against him. Greedily, like a starved man, Jungwon hungrily kissed you back, holding you tightly as his breathing picked up.

Maybe it was all the adrenaline, or the pain and delirium, or just Jungwon’s fear, but he didn’t even think about what he was doing. Your lips against his, your body pressed against him, and your scent overtaking his mind— it all made it impossible for him to stop.

He muttered your name against your lips, grasping you like you’d disappear any minute. Your soft body on him felt heavenly, as he drank you in. Everything felt hot and everything ached, but even with his mask on, it felt so delicious. He heaved as your lips moved against his. A choked breath and whimper escaped his lips as you slid tongue into his mouth, your hands slithering up his chest and wrapping around his neck, the way that he always liked it. Almost like you knew how to make him feel good.

The kiss halted to a slow stop, with the two of you gently pulling away. And Jungwon, too dazed, didn’t know what to expect next— and he definitely didn’t expect the next words that came out of your mouth.

"Jungwon," you hummed against his lips, looking at him with an expression that he couldn't read. Jungwon's heart plummeted to his stomach, shaky eyes widening.

"Wh-What—" he began, but you brought a finger up to his lip, hushing him. No way. There's no way that you knew it was him all along—

"You need to calm down, Jungwon," you said as you pulled away from him, eyes glued to his masked face. You took his hand, rubbing circles on the back of his hand slowly, the way that always helped calm him down. "I know you. You're spiraling. We can't do anything if you're panicking. Deep breaths."

"I don't— I don't understand," Jungwon whispered, his strong body still. Had you known it was him all along? And if you did, why didn't you say or do anything? Did you find him pathetic? "How did you know?"

You blinked at him slowly, before a bashful grin pulled onto your face. You reached your hand out to him, your palm finding itself on his cheek. In a moment of instinct, Jungwon leaned into your touch.

"That's how I knew," you breathed. Your lithe fingertips then prodded at the crook between his jaw and his ear, the sensitive spot, and just as you expected, Jungwon shuddered. Your fingers traced down his jaw to his neck, pressing on the tender spot in the middle of his neck. Much to Jungwon's personal mortification, he let out a gasp, and when you leaned closer to his neck— so close that he could feel your breath on him— Jungwon let out a soft sound and shivered. Your lip grazed against the covered skin of his neck, watching him intently as you earn a sensitive whimper from him.

"What— What are you doing—" Jungwon was cut off again by your lip pressing against his jugular, at the spot that never failed to make him cry out in pleasure. Jungwon's ears burned, but the blood rushing through his body made him feel hot all over. He leaned his head back, eyes falling shut.

"I know you, Jungwon." Your voice was low, almost like a purr. Your hands continued to run over his jaw and neck, hooking onto the edge of his mask and uncovering the honey tan skin of his neck. You pressed your lips against his exposed skin, another gasp falling from his lips. "You're not good at hiding anything. And you're not a convincing liar."

You pulled his mask up, exposing his lower jaw and lips. When he muttered your name startled, you pulled the entire mask off.

Lo and behold, just as you had expected, it was Jungwon Yang. You had your suspicions, and when you made them known to him you were certain that you were right. And yet, you're still taken aback when it's really Jungwon behind the mask. His overgrown blonde hair falling over his eyes, his cat-like eyes staring at you with a mix of fear, shame, and desire, his jaw that had gotten stronger— you drank in every last bit of it.

"Son of a bitch," you murmured under your breath.

Jungwon hadn't noticed the way his chest pounded and how his breathing became erratic, nor did he notice that he was now blinking back tears, his chest heaving. "I—I'm sorry—" he struggled to get out, his voice getting caught in his throat. "Oh— I'm so— I"m sorry—"

He couldn't tell if you were angry, or disgusted, or both... because despite the unreadable look on your face, you still grabbed his face, slamming your lips against his once more.

Your fingers brusquely grab at his hair, tangling themselves in his grown-out blonde locks. This time, you're the hungry one. Your hands slid down his chest again, grasping onto his strong, toned arms, and running your hands all over him. Your lips moved surly against his, as if you hadn't been fed in days.

"You're a jackass," you rasped against him, and yet you kept kissing him like he'd disappear. "Fucking jackass." Jungwon tried to murmur apologies, but you kept kissing him, shutting him up. You pushed him against your bed slowly as your lips moved, so that he had no choice but to fall back onto it.

With Jungwon's back now pressed up against your bed, you were on top of him. Your hands roamed his body, and Jungwon couldn't help but let his eyes fall shut.

"I-I'm sorry," he rumbled, but with you on top of him, lips all over him, he couldn't do much but gasp and squirm under your touch. "I-I didn't mean to—"

Boom! In the distance, a massive explosion sound careened through the air. You and Jungwon, both alarmed, froze in your position. Even with you filling his senses, Jungwon's immediate thought is simple: he is Spider-Man.

Jungwon felt your body tense against his, with fear painted on your face. His body felt hot all over, the excitement still pulsing through his veins and desperate need for you still clouding his mind. But a trembling, paralyzed you was enough to pull him away from himself, and force him to focus.

In one fell swoop, Jungwon pulls the two of you to your feet, his arms wrapping around your waist firmly, yet gently. Ignoring your questions, he felt around for his discarded mask, before shooting a web from his fingers and pulling it to him.

"You have to go," he said to you, his hands tightening around your waist. Jungwon watched as your brows crashed together, your expression morphing from bewilderment to hurt, and then anger.

"What are you— Jungwon—" Jungwon ignored you, quickly searching around your room. He took a jacket from your closet (which was definitely his), before draping it around your shoulders.

"I'm serious," he said, his voice cracking with earnestness. "I mean it, [Name]. You have to go."

It was your turn to splutter, scoffing in disbelief. "Where would I even go? I don't know why you're saying this—"

Jungwon chewed on his bottom lip for a few moments, before he huffed. "Go to Jake's."

You're about to scoff again, but Jungwon— the most tender person you've ever met— sent you a stern look that shuts you up.

"Tell him that I sent you," Jungwon instructed. "Tell him to keep you safe. And text me when you're there...." the boy trails off, awkwardly scratching his head, "If I'm not blocked, y'know.... Or just have Jake text me."

You stared at him in silence, blinking slowly, in an attempt to assess his face. Finally, you sigh, your face looking sad. "Okay."

Jungwon helped you collect your things, the two of you engulfed in a silence, with nothing filling your apartment but the ambient sound of your footsteps and breaths. That is, until it was time for you to go.

"I-I think I should go now," you said shakily, your back turned to Jungwon as you reached for your front door. Jungwon solemnly nodded, wistfully staring at you as he fiddled with his mask; his face was still uncovered, making it difficult to hide his concern, yet he didn't have the courage to put his mask back on. Not when you were here. And Jungwon would have let you go like that, alone into the night, if it weren't for the sound of your sniffles.

"Hey, hey," he called out to you, reaching out to you and taking hold of your shoulder. His brows furrowed. "[Name], what is it?"

You sniffled, your breath getting caught in your throat, and it was clear now that you were crying. However, you just shook your head, your back still turned to him.

"Baby," Jungwon said again. "Baby, please tell me. What is it? Why are you crying?"

The sound of Jungwon's voice made you tense up again. You let out a choked sob, before you sucked in a sharp breath. "Th-That."

Jungwon reached for your face, tilting your chin so that you would face him, but you wouldn't budge. "Talk to me. Please."

"That!" you cried. You sucked in another sharp breath as you threw your face into your palms. "You— You l-left me the first time... and— and now you're leaving a-again."

Jungwon's chest ached, and in a moment of remorse and desire, he slid his hands around your waist, pulling you into an embrace with you pressed against his chest. The way you always liked it. He pressed his cheek against your head, his own tears welling up in his eyes as you sniffled and cried.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes squeezing shut. He knew he hurt you, it was nothing new to him. But just knowing that never made the regret feel any better. He kissed your head. "I'm so sorry."

There's another explosion in the distance, and Jungwon's hold on you tightened. "Please. I'll make it up to you. Please just go this time."

You shook your head. "I—I don't get it. J-Jungwon, I don't g-get it—"

In your state, there was no way you'd make it to safety in time. And Jungwon was a fool for thinking that you could, not after opening up the wounds you were trying to heal from. Jungwon pressed one more kiss on your head. He hauled you into his arms, ignoring your protests, only saying, "Wrap your arms around me."

Jungwon wished he had more time. He wished he could sit you down and explain everything. But there was no time, and he had to make sure you were safe first: he'd like to do it himself. All the injuries from earlier had been healed for the most part, just enough that he had strength.

"Hold on tight, baby," he said in your ear before putting his mask on, and shooting a web out your window. Jungwon figured it was your first time soaring with Spider-Man, because you let out a squeal, hiding your face in his neck.

"Jungwon!" you cried, your eyes still lined with tears. "P-Please, I'm scared—"

Jungwon chuckled, but complied with your request, taking less risky swings. And when he arrived at Jake's apartment, he simply forced his friend's window open. Much to his luck, Jake was already there.

"S-Spider-Man?!" Jake gawked. It wasn't every day that the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man showed up at your window. Then, his eyes fell on you. "[N-Name]?!"

Gently, Jungwon set you down. "Jungwon's request: Keep her safe."

Jake, utterly baffled, opened his mouth to speak. But like a little boy (quite literally) seeing his favorite super-hero for the first time, Jake nodded dutifully, his eyes comically filling with stars. "Yes sir!"

Jungwon nodded satisfied. He knew he could count on Jake. As Jungwon readied himself to jump out the window, he's stopped by your soft voice.

"G-Good luck..." you murmured, fiddling with your fingers. "Don't die... please."

Jungwon couldn't help but grin. "Of course."

And with that, he swung away, ready to kick ass.

You're already asleep when Jungwon finds you back at Jake's house. He felt a little bad about placing the burden of you on Jake, but Jungwon couldn't care more about that when your life was on the line. Jungwon, in his hero form of course, left a note for Jake on the kitchen counter, as he slowly wrapped his arms around your sleeping figure.

You're left sleeping on Jake's couch, with a throw blanket awkwardly draped over you. He appreciated Jake's efforts, grinning softly as the way you stirred in your sleep. It's near dawn, and Jungwon couldn't ignore the ache in his body. But even so, the way your eyes were puffy, your cheeks stained lightly with tears made his chest ache more than his body did.

As quietly as he could, Jungwon took you in his arms, and took you back to his apartment (he didn't have the keys to your apartment, and he didn't want to make you angrier by breaking in). Helicopters were still flying overhead, the sound of police sirens below filling the air. Jungwon's eyes twitched with tiredness, his straining muscles nearly giving out. The city was asleep, and yet it was still functionally cleaning up the mess from earlier.

Speaking of, that son of a bitch Baron von Fizzle-dick or whatever was now in police custody. Jungwon was too exhausted to remember the details, but it was a long and tiring fight. One that was painful.

As he swung through the sky, Jungwon couldn't forget the fight. He was hit pretty badly, almost nearly stabbed in the chest. His entire body was in pain, and if it weren't for the precious you in his arms, Jungwon thought he would collapse mid-air. The feeling of the insurmountable physical agony that that villain inflicted on him was definitely one for the books. Jungwon could still feel the blood dripping down his back. But what was even worse were the things Baron von Fizzlebang had said. The threats he made, the words he said: the villain, and apparently, all the villains in the city, via their underground network, seemed to know you by name. They knew you because you were a soft spot for Spider-Man. It terrified him that now you had a target on your back. He cursed himself for letting himself get comfortable, for endangering you in the process. Even if he won the fight now, Jungwon couldn't forget the fear.

As he landed on his window, Jungwon slowly cracked it open, supporting both you and himself as he brought the two of you into his apartment. He placed you down on his bed, pulling his comforter over you. He watched as you snuggled into his bed, a satisfied murmur falling from your lips. You looked so peaceful, and for a moment, Jungwon could forget all the pain he felt.

Jungwon looked down at his hands. Ripped gloves, blood-stained palms... will it ever go away?

He pulled away from you, about to make his way to his bathroom. He ought to wash the blood off his hands. The night was at its peak, the dreariest that it had ever been. He didn't know what time it was— he lost track of that a long time ago— but all he knew was that it was dark outside. He better get some sleep too. But as he pulled away from you, he felt a few fingers weakly grip his arm. He froze.

"Jung... won..." you murmured. Your eyes were shut, and your voice sounded dreamy.

"I'm here," Jungwon breathed. He hadn't realized it, but his voice broke. Really, all he felt like doing was crying.

"Don't leave," you mumbled. Your fingers tightened around his arm. "I'll do.... do anything..." you drew on. "Just... don't go."

"Oh, baby—" And with that Jungwon broke, the hot tears he hadn't even realized he were holding in spilling. He pulled on his mask. He dropped to his knees, resting his head on the bed beside you. "I... I never meant to. I never wanted to leave you—"

You hummed, murmuring something incoherent. "Stay."

Jungwon let out a shaky breath. "I will— I really want to— Please, let me—"

"Jungwon," you said, rather firmly. You still had your eyes shut.

"I'm here, baby." Jungwon sniffled, swiping the back of his ragged hand to wipe his nose. "I'm not gonna go— I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so—"

"In the... morning," you whispered. Before Jungwon could ask, you continued. "Talk in the morning."

Jungwon's voice broke again. "W-What?"

Your hand reached out for him again, this time falling onto his disheveled head. Jungwon nearly flinched at the feeling of your hand running through his hair, but instinctively he leaned into your touch. For a few moments, your fingers ran through his blonde locks, such a foreign feeling and yet a welcome one. Jungwon let his eyes shut, and they burned as his lids fell shut.

Your voice is quiet, and Jungwon is almost certain you're awake now. "Jake told me some things. I put two and two together."

"Really?" Jungwon, too tired to be mad. "Was it bad?"

You only hummed, giving him a classic nonresponse. Your fingers continued through his hair. "Go to sleep now."

"But—"

You hushed him, petting his head slowly and affectionately. "I love you."

Jungwon was stunned, but it felt so natural as, "I love you, too," tumbled from his lips.

There's a warmth that spreads across his chest, reassuring and comforting. But yet, so deeply harrowing, and so deeply frightening. He's a man of a thousand words and complex ideas, and you knew it, so you hushed Jungwon before he could continue, petting his head slowly and affectionately. "We'll talk in the morning."

Jungwon opened his mouth to protest. But as your fingers ran through his hair, he couldn't help the satisfying chills that ran down his spine. And everything hurt, and it hurt so bad that it was unbearable and Jungwon felt like he couldn't take it.

But your touch was so soft and familiar, Jungwon felt like.... for a second... he could maybe... fall into your touch... and just... take... it... easy...

"Pro...tect you..." Jungwon murmured. "I'll protect... you."

You chuckled softly. "You're not alone. I'll carry your burden with you."

It's his turn to hum, nearly satisfied. As he drifted off into a deep slumber, his troubles melting away into the palms of your hands, there's only one last thought in Jungwon's head.

Maybe there will be a new day tomorrow, and hopefully, he won't be alone when the day breaks.

The dorm room door slammed open with all the fury of a hurricane.

“I swear to every moon and star in the fanged realm, I’m going to kill him,” Da-eun growled as she stomped into the room, her leather boots echoing off the polished floors.

Jiyoon, perched cross legged on her bed with her hair tied in a bun and a blood bag dangling lazily from her hand, didn’t even flinch. She just sipped with a raised brow, “Ni-ki again?”

“Ni-ki again?” Da-eun repeated in a mocking voice as she threw her backpack down like it had personally offended her. “That man is the reason my blood pressure is one step from spontaneous combustion. I was minding my business, walking to combat theory, and you know what he did?”

Jiyoon blinked. “Tackled you?”

“I wish. That would’ve at least made sense,” the girl snapped. “He dropped thirty pounds of glitter over the stairs as I was walking up. I looked like a disco ball got into a knife fight with a unicorn.”

A soft snort escaped Jiyoon. “So… sparkly?”

“I glittered for hours. I blinded a professor. I had Fae students asking what kind of glamor spell I used. I don’t even know what part of my body the glitter isn’t on. I’m gonna be peeing sparkles until finals.”

Jiyoon giggled behind her palm, tossing the empty blood pouch into the trash. “Okay, but it’s prank season. He’s just getting into the spirit.”

“He’s declaring war. And I, Da-eun of the House of Petty, accept.”

Jiyoon’s eyes lit up. “You’re starting a feud?”

“I’m escalating a feud,” she corrected, digging through her closet like she was preparing for battle. “That gremlin’s been testing me since day one. Always looking smug. Always throwing smug little comments about my hair, my fighting form, my fangs. Oh, and let’s not forget the time he snuck into my room and unplugged my curling iron right before class. He’s a menace, and he’s obsessed with me.”

Jiyoon tilted her head thoughtfully. “You sure you don’t like him?”

Da-eun froze. Slowly turned. Blinked. “Don’t. Start.”

The door creaked open then, and in came Seori and Kija, arms full of snacks and gossip. Kija kicked the door closed with a well aimed boot, her siren glow still humming from the walk through campus.

“What’s got our loudmouth vampire ready to implode?” Seori asked with a casual toss of her hair, flopping onto Jiyoon’s bed.

Da-eun threw herself onto her own mattress with a dramatic groan. “Ni-ki.”

“Again?” Kija and Seori said in unison, then high-fived.

“It’s always Ni-ki,” Jiyoon chimed in. “They’re going to kill each other or mate by midterm.”

Seori gasped with a grin. “Enemies to soulmates? I’d read it.”

“Don’t encourage it!” Da-eun yelled into her pillow. “He’s a roach. A tall, stupid, fast-ass roach.”

“...with nice hands,” Kija added idly.

“I will push you off this bed.”

But Jiyoon was grinning, and the moment she looked at her three best friends, all lounging in their shared chaos, buzzing with the high of a new semester and upcoming prank wars. Y/n felt it.

The shift. This was the start of something. Something wild. Something electric. Something she might not come back from. Because while the school was gearing up for chaos, war, and mischief.

She and Ni-ki? They were about to burn the whole place down.

“I swear,” Kija muttered a day later as she dropped her tray of food on the table and sank into the seat across from Da-eun, “if Sunghoon glares at me one more time, I’m going to enchant his water bottle to scream every time he takes a sip.”

Da-eun didn’t even look up from the spellwork textbook she was scribbling in. “You say that every day, and yet…”

Kija shot a pointed glance toward the other end of the cafeteria, where, without fail, the Seven were lounging like bored gods carved out of fire and steel. Sunghoon sat with one arm tossed lazily across the back of his chair, his sharp eyes flicking toward their table every so often. Not that Kija ever met his stare for long. They just… glared at each other. A cold war of narrowed eyes and clenched jaws.

“Tell me again,” Kija grumbled, “why the Seven are always hovering around now?”

Da-eun sighed, finally capping her pen and sitting back. “Because Jiyoon mated the old man.”

Jiyoon, sitting beside her with her black hair pinned in a lazy bun and her collar still showing the faint scar of her mating mark, looked unbothered. “Heeseung is not old.”

“He’s centuries old,” Da-eun pointed out jokingly. “If that’s not old, I don’t know what is.”

Jiyoon smirked. “He’s seasoned.”

“He’s broody.”

“He’s hot.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Kija groaned and dropped her head to the table. “So because you mated the first of the Seven, now they think they have some kind of claim on the rest of us?”

“Pretty much,” Da-eun muttered. “I wish they’d go back to hating everyone. It was peaceful.”

“They do,” Jiyoon replied, reaching for her drink. “Just not me, and by extension you.”

That was the problem.

Ever since Jiyoon and Heeseung had mated, the entire dynamic had shifted. The Seven had always been cold, powerful, and ruthlessly disinterested in anyone outside their circle. But now?

Now Sunghoon stared at Kija like she might explode. Jay had barely been able to look Seori in the eye after the debate, and Seori had smirked the whole time, like she knew exactly what she was doing. Ni-ki was still pretending Da-eun didn’t exist unless it was to annoy her. And she herself? She was pretending he wasn’t fun to fight with. Which he was. Infuriatingly so.

“Sunghoon and I haven’t even spoken,” Kija added, lifting her head again. “We just glare. Constantly. Like it’s a sport.”

Sounds like they were trying to assert thier dominance on each other. Da-eun almost cackled at the thought. 

“You should wave at him next time,” Jiyoon suggested innocently.

“I’d rather chew glass.”

Da-eun laughed, kicking Kija lightly under the table.

“And you,” Kija pointed at her. “Ni-ki’s been extra obnoxious lately. You’re sure he’s not trying to court you through psychological warfare?”

“He’s trying to give me an aneurysm,” she deadpanned. “And if it’s working, it’s not romantic.”

Jiyoon was watching her closely, eyes twinkling. “You blush when you talk about him.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Do not.”

“Then say his name without getting red.”

Da-eun glared, but the tips of her ears betrayed her.

Kija snorted. “Admit it. You like the gremlin.”

“I’d rather be tied to a pole and left for the shifters.”

“Why is that your go-to threat for everything?” Jiyoon asked with a laugh.

She didn’t answer. Her gaze had drifted over to the Seven’s table again. Sunghoon still glared. Jay still sat stiff and silent, like his own mind betrayed him. Ni-ki? He was slouched in his seat, long legs stretched out under the table, smirking at something Jungwon said.

But when she met his eyes...because she knew he was looking, his expression shifted, just slightly.

Challenge accepted, his face seemed to say.

She raised her brow.

Bring it on, hers answered.

They looked away at the same time.

The hallway echoed with the low hum of enchantments and murmurs of spells gone wrong, the air thick with incense, chalk dust, and the faint metallic smell of magic overuse. Creatures of every kind filtered between classes; glamoured witches, brooding warlocks, smooth talking shifters, and too pretty fae with eyes like sin.

The moment Ni-ki turned the corner, everyone stepped aside.

He didn’t walk. He prowled. Six feet of dark menace wrapped in a school approved uniform that he somehow made look like a crime scene. His black boots struck the marble with too much finality. His eyes flicked lazily over anyone too slow to move, daring them to meet his gaze.

No one did.

Until one unfortunate witch, freshman, probably, rounded the bend and crashed right into him, her potion vials clattering to the floor.

"Sorry!" she squeaked, fumbling for the glass before it rolled under the nearest locker.

Ni-ki didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

He simply tilted his head, and the girl froze.

His aura darkened.

"You know," he said, voice low and venom-sweet, "there’s a funny little rule in this school…You don’t touch me."

The witch’s eyes welled with tears. “I-I didn’t mean—”

"Did I ask if you meant to?" he cut in coldly, stepping forward. She scrambled back. "Touch me again, and I’ll hex every drink you ever sip. You'll piss fire for weeks."

She bolted, crying before her shoes even squeaked around the corner.

“Drama queen,” Ni-ki muttered.

Behind him, the rest of the Seven filtered in like shadows summoned to a flame. Jay let out a low whistle. Jake shook his head. Jungwon sighed.

“She barely brushed your shoulder,” Sunghoon said, eyes flicking with amusement.

“She contaminated my aura,” Ni-ki snapped.

“She dropped potion vials,” Sunoo added dryly. “You could’ve just… I don’t know, not threatened internal combustion?”

“You’re all missing the point,” Ni-ki grumbled, turning to face his brothers with a glare that was more frustration than rage. “Da-eun.”

Six heads groaned in unison.

“Here we go,” Jake muttered.

"Its always Da-eun with you," Sunoo laughed amused. 

“Do not say her name like that,” Ni-ki snapped.

“You say it like a curse,” Jay pointed out.

Ni-ki pointed a finger at him. “Because she is one. A loud, dramatic, insufferable little creature who thinks she’s clever just because she out-pranked me last year.”

“She is clever,” Jungwon said, arms crossed. “Clever enough to make you blow up your own locker trying to trap her.”

“That was sabotage!” Ni-ki argued.

“It was your own glitter bomb,” Sunghoon said, unimpressed. “You spelled it backward.”

“I was tired.”

The group collectively sighed.

Ni-ki ran a hand through his hair and paced in a slow circle. “Look. This year’s Prank Wars? It’s personal. That little vampire menace is gunning for me again. She’s got Jiyoon. She’s got the damn siren and the illusionist fae, and now they’re a unit. I’m going to get wrecked if I don’t hit first.”

“Good,” Jay deadpanned. “Maybe you’ll stop whining.”

“You’re all going to help me,” Ni-ki said, turning on his heel to face them.

“Nope,” said Sunoo.

“Absolutely not,” Jungwon added.

“I have Council work,” Sunghoon yawned.

Ni-ki grinned slowly. “Do you guys…remember that little thing I caught on footage last year?”

They all froze.

He raised an eyebrow, smug. “You know. That time Sunghoon glamoured the staff lounge into a private skating rink and knocked the Dean’s favorite sphinx through a wall? Or when Jay accidentally enchanted the boys’ bathroom mirror to show your true thoughts and gave half the shifters anxiety? Or better yet…” he let his gaze rest on Jake, “that time you and Sunoo broke curfew for that midnight blood kegger in the forest?”

“I told you not to say that out loud,” Jake hissed.

Ni-ki shrugged. “I have receipts. And I’m not above sending them straight to your precious vampire parents. Imagine the shame. The horror. The family meetings.”

“You wouldn’t,” Jungwon said.

“Oh, I would.”

Sunghoon looked heavenward. “He’s bluffing.”

“I’m not bluffing,” Ni-ki said, pulling his phone from his pocket and waving it like a wand. “I have backups in three different clouds and one fae-encrypted external drive. Try me.”

“Fine,” Sunoo groaned. “We’re in.”

“Yes!” Ni-ki pumped a fist in the air. “Now help me plan that little girls downfall.”

“She’s going to kill you,” Jake muttered.

“I want her to try.”

The others shook their heads, already regretting their lives. They may have been powerful, feared, untouchable… but when it came to Ni-ki and Da-eun?

It was war.

And apparently? They were now unwilling soldiers.

It was obscene.

It was unnatural.

It was…a picnic.

Ni-ki crouched behind a stone planter like a rabid gargoyle, glaring across the courtyard at four supernatural girls having the time of their lives. Giggling. Snacking. Lounging.

There was even a pastel blanket. With tiny triangle sandwiches. And sparkly strawberry lemonade in a floating pitcher, enchanted to refill itself.

“Who the hell picnics in the middle of a supernatural war zone?” Ni-ki hissed.

“It’s a quad,” Jungwon muttered from beside him. “And there’s no war.”

“There is now,” Ni-ki growled. “They’ve declared it. Look at them.”

Heeseung raised a brow but said nothing, eyes locked on his mate, his little troublemaker, lounging with dangerous grace among her misfit crew. Jiyoon’s sharp eyes glinted beneath the sun, a smirk tugging at her mouth as she poked a grape into Da-eun's lips.

Da-eun. The bane of Ni-ki’s existence. His chaos twin. His main enemy in the upcoming prank wars.

Sunghoon leaned in behind them. “Is that…Kija?”

Jay nodded slowly, squinting. “And Seori.”

The seven grew quiet for a second.

None of them had ever paid attention to those two before, only surface level attention. But now that they were looking something twisted in the air. Like fate was curling a finger.

Kija was flicking her siren dyed blue hair over her shoulder as she rolled her eyes at Da-eun, her long melenated legs stretched out lazily while she sucked on a lollipop like she owned the courtyard. Sunghoon’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t know why.

Jay’s eyes drifted to Seori, graceful, sunlit, wearing glittery boots and a mood like a blade sheathed in velvet. Their eyes met for half a second before she turned away with a scrunch of her nose.

Jay frowned. “She looked like she wanted to kick me.”

Sunoo smirked. “Probably.”

Back under the tree, the girls were plotting. Loudly. On purpose.

“Listen,” Da-eun said, smacking her thigh with a croissant. “Ni-ki’s getting wrecked. He dumped black dye in my shampoo. That is a declaration of war.”

“It was funny,” Jiyoon admitted.

“It stained my ears, Jiyoon.”

Seori snorted. “You still looked hot, though.”

“True,” Kija nodded. “But he’s still dead.”

“Please help me prank him,” Da-eun groaned, flopping backward.

“No,” Jiyoon said. “Heeseung will find out and ground me again.”

“No,” Seori added. “The others are already suspicious. And Park keeps looking at me like I know what guilt smells like.”

“I think Sunoo hexed my hallway yesterday,” Kija muttered.

“You’re all cowards,” Da-eun said dramatically, draping her arm over her eyes like she was dying.

“No,” Kija said. “We’re smart. You want to start beef with the most powerful vampires in the school?”

“I already have beef. It’s medium rare and annoying.”

The seven were completely silent, listening like they were tuning into a soap opera.

Jay leaned toward Sunghoon. “I think we’re being insulted.”

“We are,” Sunghoon muttered, jaw tight, eyes flicking to Kija again.

Then, Da-eun sat up, a devilish grin stretching across her face. “Fine. If you won’t help me willingly…”

“Oh no,” Jiyoon said.

Da-eun held up her phone. “Remember this?” A click. A screen flash.

Seori screamed. “You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t you dare,” Kija snapped.

“Oh my god is that the karaoke video?” Jiyoon gasped.

Her grin turned sharklike. “That’s the one.”

“I fell off the stage!” Seori howled.

“You bit the microphone,” Kija groaned.

“That’s emotional manipulation,” Jiyoon muttered quietly with her head bowed.

“I prefer the term creative negotiation.” Da-eun dusted her hands off. “Now, ladies, let’s ruin Ni-ki’s life.”

Behind the bushes, Ni-ki clenched his fists. “They’re plotting my murder.”

“No,” Jungwon said. “They’re plotting your humiliation.”

“Same thing.”

Sunoo, crouched beside them, was barely holding in laughter. “Look at you, getting outplayed by your mate.”

“She is not my—”

“She is,” Heeseung, Jay, and Jungwon said in unison.

Jay raised a brow at Seori again as she conjured a little illusion of Ni-ki with a donkey tail. “She’s clever,” he muttered.

Sunghoon glanced at Kija, who was now laughing so hard she fell sideways into Jiyoon’s lap. His chest twisted for a moment before he growled low and looked away.

“We should go,” Heeseung finally said, standing.

“They know we’re here,” Sunoo said.

Jiyoon raised her glass toward the hedges.

“Yeah,” Sunghoon sighed. “They definitely know.”

As the seven sulked away like scolded dogs, Da-euns voice rang across the courtyard, “HEY, NI-KI!”

He froze.

“You’re going down, ugly-boy.”

Ni-ki spun with a growl. “Oh, it’s ON, baby bat!”

War had rules.

She just chose to break them all.

“Operation Vampocalypse is a go,” she whispered, crouched with Kija, Jiyoon, and Seori behind the hedge bordering the Seven’s dormitory.

“I still think we should’ve gone with ‘Fanged Fury: Girl Edition,’” Kija whispered.

“No one liked that,” Seori said flatly. "I dont even have fangs!"

“It had flair.”

“It had zero sense.”

Jiyoon, crouched like a little devil in black joggers and a hoodie that definitely belonged to Heeseung, smirked. “Let’s just hope no one dies.”

“They won’t die, probably” Da-eun said, cracking her knuckles. “They’ll suffer artistically.”

Inside her bag was chaos. Seven meticulously packed pouches labeled with each vampire’s name. Each with their own flavor of ruin. They had talked a girl named Claire into giving them some spells they could use to help with the pranks, she did so before vanishing. 

Da-eun tapped her earpiece. “Phase One. Go.”

The prank began at 4:02 a.m. precisely. The school courtyard, typically silent at dawn, became the stage for glittery vengeance.

Jay’s Room, He awoke to the sound of flutes. Magical, echoing, damned flutes.

And when he sat up? His floor had been turned into liquid illusion. It looked like he was floating on an endless black ocean. Seori’s magic. Subtle. Powerful. He tried to step out of bed and screamed. It was convincing.

“You see this?!” he yelled, slipping and sliding on what was, in fact, a flat real floor. “I will DRAIN WHOEVER DID THIS!”

Somewhere across campus, Seori clinked her tea mug in celebration.

Sunghoon’s Room, Kija had gone for the throat. Or rather…the hair.

His entire head had been dyed a shimmering iridescent mermaid blue. The bathroom mirror had been enchanted. Every time he looked at it, it whispered: “Ooooh, you glow, ocean prince~”

“I’m going to set fire to everything,” Sunghoon growled, claws bared, as he scrubbed his head like a rabid beast.

Ni-ki’s Room, His closet was locked. Literally sealed shut with a sound spell. Every time he tried to open it, his own voice screamed back: “I LOVE Da-eun! I LOVE Da-eun! I WANNA KISS HER STUPID MOUTH!”

The girl had tears from laughing when she showed the girls the audio. Even Jiyoon clutched her stomach wheezing. Across campus, Ni-ki was losing his damn mind.

“No one leaves this alive,” he muttered, punching the door and getting a fresh “I LOVE Da-eun” for his trouble.

Sunoo’s Room, Y/n hadn’t targeted him. Seori had. His room had been rearranged upside-down. Literally. All furniture, photos, shelves, even his bedding were stuck to the ceiling. He woke up on the floor. He sat up groggy, looked around, blinked, and sighed, “I’m not even mad. This is art.”

Then he squinted at the ceiling and screamed, “DID YOU TAKE MY SKINCARE?!”

Jungwon’s Room, Seori had saved her best illusion for him. His room had been charmed to look exactly like a wolf den; complete with fur pelts, meat slabs, and a huge poster of Ni-ki labeled “ALPHA OF THE YEAR.”

“NO. NOPE. BURN IT DOWN,” he roared, shoving the wall so hard the poster fell sideways.

“I’m the council president!” Jungwon yelled.

“Not anymore,” Kija whispered dramatically.

Jake’s Room, Simple. Direct. Personal. All his black shirts were now bright pink. They sang when touched. They sang a ballad. About love. And puppies. And how his mate will one day “tame his soul with a touch.” Jake stared at his closet for twenty minutes in silence.

Heeseung’s Room, Jiyoon saved him for last. Not because she didn’t love him. But because she did.

His room had not been harmed. Not obviously. There was only one change: His pillow did not smell like her. Her blood bag, untouched, sitting on his desk. A note beneath it, handwritten: Don’t think just because I love you, I won’t play dirty. Sleep tight, old man. <3 —Yoonie

Heeseung stared at it for a long time, before folding the note and tucking it into his wallet. He whispered, “You’re gonna pay for that,” but his smirk was pure adoration.

The Seven stood in a circle on the grass by 7 a.m, glitter covered, shirtless, soaked, or hissing in some combination of outrage and shock.

Ni-ki was dragging glitter out of his ear. Sunghoon was wearing a hoodie over his glowing hair. Jungwon kept muttering “Alpha of the Year” under his breath like a curse. Jay looked betrayed. Jake kept trying to stop his shirt from singing. Sunoo was impressed. Heeseung…was smiling.

Like an idiot.

“You’re grinning,” Jay snapped.

“Shut up,” Heeseung said.

“You’re in love with a demon,” Ni-ki growled.

“I know,” Heeseung replied proudly.

Sunghoon clenched his jaw. “Sirens and fae and vampire girls who start wars. We’re all going to die.”

“They declared war,” Jungwon growled.

“No,” Sunoo corrected, raising a brow. “They declared art.”

It started innocently enough.

A sunny afternoon. The shared Creatures & Cultural Relations lecture. One of the few classes that demanded all species be present. That meant vampires, shifters, fae, witches, sirens…and the most dangerous group of all, bored immortals with a grudge.

Da-eun sat beside Jiyoon, two desks ahead of Kija and Seori. They were all lazily scribbling notes as Professor Thornbriar droned on about species treaties. “...the 1274 Accord of Frostpeak was instrumental in formalizing shapeshifter rights among—”

Thunk.

She blinked. Something wet landed on her page. Was that...red jelly? “What the hell,” she whispered, wiping it off.

From across the room, Ni-ki was smirking, twirling a silver spoon. Strawberry jelly. Her favorite. Bastard.

“Oh, you wanna play?” She muttered without looking at him.

Jiyoon looked over her shoulder. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.”

But then Kija yelped. “WHAT THE—”

Her water bottle had been swapped. Instead of cucumber-mint? It now tasted like spicy pickle juice with glitter floating in it.

Sunghoon didn’t look at her. Didn’t smirk or glance. But he had the gall to sip from her actual water bottle and set it down on his desk like nothing happened.

Kija’s eyes narrowed. “You’re dead to me, pretty boy.”

Across the room, Seori gasped quietly. Her textbook, her annotated, color-coded, organized textbook, was now enchanted to whisper Jay’s voice every time she turned a page.

“Hi, Seori. Did you miss me?”

“Page 108: You look really pretty today.”

“Still hate me? Impossible.”

Jay was openly watching her now, chin in his palm like he had all the time in the world. When she glared, he winked.

“Jay,” Jungwon said flatly beside him. “You’re going to die.”

“Worth it,” he muttered.

Jiyoon raised a brow as her pen suddenly levitated midair, drew a tiny heart on her paper, then scribbled in messy handwriting: Heeseung loves you, forever and always, signed your favorite bloodsucker. A tiny note illusion hovered next to it: P.S. You smell really good today. I’m suffering.

Jiyoon blushed. Heeseung just bit his lip across the room, fangs glinting in amusement.

It was all chaos. Silent, perfect chaos. The professor was still lecturing. No one dared interrupt. But the entire class had noticed, every creature in the room was watching.

The Seven were striking back. And the girls were trying so hard not to snap.

That was until Seori calmly closed her textbook, gave it a soft pat, and muttered, “Time for war.”

Jiyoon leaned over to Da-eun. “We’re doing this in class?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, smiling like a villain. “We’re just getting started.”

By the end of the class, no one remembered a damn thing about the 1274 Accord.

But everyone would remember. Ni-ki’s chair exploding into glitter and feathers the second he stood up. Jay opening his bag to find it singing opera in Seori’s voice. Sunghoon reaching for his notes and grabbing a bra (not his). Jake’s blood bag being replaced with pink lemonade and ghost pepper extract. Jungwon finding his laptop filled with animated shifter gifs kissing his face. Heeseung’s shoelaces being magically tied together, and tripping for the first time in almost 23 years.

They were immortals. They were rulers. They were also losing their minds.

As the bell rang and the classroom emptied, the professor finally looked up from his book. He blinked at the glitter, feathers, and faint echo of Seori’s enchanted voice singing from Jay’s bag. Then he sighed, “I really need a vacation.”

Ni-ki leaned back against the brick wall of the west corridor, arms crossed, hoodie hood pulled over his dark hair, lips twitching with anticipation.

It was her locker.

And inside? A rigged blood bag. Sealed to burst with perfectly timed pressure the moment she twisted the dial.

He’d been waiting for this all morning. Skipping breakfast had been worth it. Even Jungwon had given him a nod of respect, though Heeseung just muttered “you’re insane” and Jay threatened him with eternal academic sabotage if he got any on his shoes.

Ni-ki didn’t care.

This was personal. She got glitter in his bed last night. His bed. He was still finding it on his fangs.

Now? He was getting payback. Sweet, juicy, vampire-style payback.

He watched her walk up with her headphones in, looking cute in a way that made his fangs ache just a little. She blinked at her locker, twisting the lock open like it was just another day.

Then—PSHHHHHHT!!!

A spray of dark red blood exploded from the vent at the top, splattering her shirt, her face, her hair everywhere.

“WHAT THE HELL?!”

Ni-ki lost it.

Doubling over with laughter, he slammed his fist against the wall to keep himself upright. “Oh my god, you look like a horror film!” he wheezed.

She froze in place, dripping, blinking slowly. She turned and her eyes landed on him.

Ni-ki grinned wide, still wheezing, “Worth it.”

And then...BAM.

“OW—what the—”

She stormed up and kicked him straight in the shin.

With a huff. A little hmmp! Like she wasn’t a deadly vampire with sonic pulse abilities, just a pissed-off girl in a blood soaked hoodie and a personal vendetta.

“You,” she seethed, poking his chest hard, “are dead.”

Still snorting, Ni-ki limped slightly but followed after her retreating figure with a smug, stupid smile.

“Technically I already am,” he mumbled under his breath again.

Around them, the Seven were watching from a bench down the hall, Jiyoon curled under Heeseung’s arm, because the eldest vampire had gone feral since they mated and barely let her leave his side.

Jungwon chuckled. “She got you good.”

“She barely touched me,” Ni-ki scoffed, rubbing his shin with a wince. “She’s weak.”

“Sure,” Sunghoon snorted. “Tell that to your limp.”

Sunoo leaned forward, eyes glinting, “I give her two hours before she floods your entire dorm room.”

“She wouldn’t dare,” Ni-ki muttered.

“She's already dared,” Jiyoon replied with a sip of her drink, raising a brow. “You forget who you're dealing with.”

The Seven laughed. The hall buzzed with energy. And Ni-ki?

He just stared down the hallway where she vanished.

Stupid girl. Loud. Messy. Dangerous. Too dramatic.

And her face, covered in blood, had still been so cute.

He was so screwed.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the paved path that cut through the heart of campus. Da-eun strolled alone, earbuds in but no music playing, just static silence keeping the world at bay. Her hoodie sleeves were pulled over her hands, and her dark sunglasses sat crookedly on her nose, the evidence of prank war aftermath still lingering on her favorite pair.

She’d finally gotten a break from the chaos.

No glitter. No fake spiders. No blood bags. No Ni-ki.

A small sigh of peace left her lips as she passed the quad, nodding toward a few whispering sirens, ignoring the fae who eyed her from under their tree, and stepping wide around the shifters who always moved in packs because they stank.

She was alone. Gloriously alone. That was, until she wasn’t. “Wh—!”

In less than a blink, she was lifted. Her body slammed into a hard chest, wind howling past her ears, the world a blur as trees and buildings sped by in streaks of color. Her breath caught in her throat.

Vampire speed.

Only one person had the audacity to grab her like that, “JAKE!”

She pounded her fists against his chest, but he didn’t flinch. His stupid blonde hair whipped past her face, and she swore he was grinning.

“I’m going to kill you, you golden retriever piece of-”

Before she could finish her insult, she was dropped onto her feet, almost falling from the force. The door behind her slammed shut, and she heard the unmistakable sound of the lock clicking into place.

“Don’t you dare, JAKE, OPEN THIS DOOR!” She banged her fists on the wood. “YOU CAN’T JUST KIDNAP PEOPLE!”

No answer.

“Coward! I hope your shampoo runs out and you have to use conditioner first!”

Still nothing. Her fists dropped to her sides as she panted, blood running hot, rage mounting. But then a feeling slid down her spine. A chill. A shadow. The sudden, deep sense of being watched.

She turned slowly. And there, leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, the most infuriating smirk playing on his lips was Nishimura Riki.

“Oh hell no.”

She backed up immediately, the door pressing into her spine.

He pushed off the wall, casual as ever. “Hey, cupcake.”

Her eye twitched.

“I’m going to rip Jake’s stupid pretty boy head off.”

“Not if I beat you to it,” Ni-ki muttered. He was already walking toward her, slow and confident, like he wasn’t the most frustrating person on the planet. Like he didn’t deserve her foot in his ribs.

“What do you want?” she snapped.

He tilted his head, dark eyes unreadable. “Just wanted to talk.”

“Talk?” she spat. “You drenched me in blood last week. Yesterday you turned all my clothes pink. The day before that you replaced my lotion with glitter gel. And talking is what you suddenly want?”

He shrugged. “You’ve done worse.”

“That’s called self-defense.”

“You glittered my coffin.”

“You payed a shifter to bark at me for three hours!”

“You replaced my blood bags with fake ones filled with hot sauce.”

“You replaced mine with mango juice! Do you know what that does to vampires?!”

“Apparently it gives them the runs," Ni-ki laughed.

Da-eun despite herself, bit the inside of her cheek to stop from joining him. Silence fell between them, thick and awkward. She crossed her arms.

“Why now?” she asked quietly.

He blinked.

“Why are you doing this?” she clarified. “Locking me in a room. Playing all these stupid games. Is it just to win?”

His expression shifted then. Just slightly. Like the teasing mask slipped for half a second. “No.”

She didn’t move. “Then what?”

His mouth opened but he didn’t answer. Not with words, at least. He stepped forward. One step. Two. Her breath hitched as he got closer, crowding her against the wall again. He didn’t touch her but she could feel the heat of him, the way his energy shifted around her like a magnetic pull she didn’t ask for.

“I don’t know what it is about you,” Ni-ki muttered, voice low. “You’re loud. You’re messy. You drive me fucking insane.”

“Thanks,” she said, glaring.

“But…” he tilted his head, eyes flickering crimson for half a second, “...I think I’d lose my mind if you stopped.”

Da-eun blinked. Her heart kicked. Hard.

Who me?

She was silent for a long beat, trying to piece that together, trying to breathe through the confusing, crawling warmth up her neck. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He was a menace. He was chaos. He was..he...he was staring at her lips. Her heart stuttered.

“I should go,” she said. But her voice was soft now. Not convincing.

“You’re locked in.”

“Right.” A beat passed. "Did you call me cupcake earlier?”

His lips quirked. “Yeah.”

“Don’t do that.”

“No promises.”

They were still too close. His smirk was too smug. Her pulse was too fast. She hated this. She was a deadly vampire for christ sakes. She could rip his throat out with her bare hand if she wanted to, she could...she...

She loved this.

“Whatever this is,” she said softly, voice uncertain for the first time, “it better not mess with me.”

Ni-ki’s voice dropped to a near growl, “It’s already messing with me.”

And that terrified her more than anything. Because that meant he felt it too. The pull. The heat. The weight of something ancient in their bones. And she suddenly wasn’t sure how long she could keep pretending it wasn’t there. They had been pretending nothing was there for years. A push and pull between them. 

Ni-ki took one step forward. Then another. Each one echoed against the walls like a countdown, like fate whispering it's time.

She didn’t move. Not even a breath. Her spine was stiff against the locked door, eyes wide and watching him like he was something dangerous. Maybe he was.

A crooked smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he finally stopped just inches from her. So close that her pulse was now something he could hear. It thumped wildly in her neck, echoing louder with every passing second, and he wondered if she realized how loud she got when she was flustered.

He liked it. No. He loved it.

His gaze dropped for a second to her trembling fingers fisting the hem of her hoodie, then lifted back to her face. Their eyes locked, and this time, neither of them looked away.

Ni-ki cocked his head, curious. It had always been like this. Tension. Bickering. Rage. Fun.

From the moment he’d laid eyes on her years ago during orientation, she’d pissed him off. The way she talked back. The way her voice could shake glass. The way her scent curled through the air like it belonged beside his. Like it fit.

It annoyed the hell out of him.

She annoyed the hell out of him. Still did.

But maybe his hyungs were right.

Maybe this wasn’t hate.

Maybe it was everything else.

He remembered the first time she’d glared at him, lips curled in irritation, power crackling under her skin. He remembered the way his instincts had flared, mine. It had been buried then, unspoken and brushed off.

But it was louder now. Stronger. Undeniable.

Ni-ki leaned in just slightly, his voice low and almost bored, but his eyes were anything but. “I wonder if you even know…”

She blinked. “Know what?”

His gaze dropped to her lips. “Why no one’s ever asked you out here.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion, but her breath hitched, and he felt it in his chest like a tether.

“You ever wonder that?” he murmured. “Why guys avoid you?”

Da-eun swallowed, shaking her head in slight confusion.

“Maybe they’re scared,” he said softly, “or maybe…” He leaned closer, his breath brushing her cheek. “…they already know you’re taken.”

Her eyes snapped up to his. “I’m not—”

He chuckled under his breath.

Liar.

She was trembling now. Slightly. Barely. But he could tell, her knees locking, her back stiffening, her chin rising as if it would hide the way her body leaned slightly forward. Toward him. God, she smelled like dusk and storm windsl, like a war he wouldn’t mind losing. His gums ached, not with hunger, but instinct. Claiming. Connection.

Bond.

And he knew. She might not have said it yet. Might not have admitted it. But her body already knew.

With a soft hum, he dipped his head lower, lips brushing her cheek in the lightest, cheekiest kiss. Not lustful, not gentle, not even romantic.

Just enough.

Enough to ignite.

Enough to bind.

The moment his lips touched her skin, a surge of heat ran up his spine, slamming straight into his chest. His breath faltered. Her eyes fluttered. Da-eun gasped softly, her body jolting slightly in place. He felt her power crackle faintly beneath her skin, warning an instinctive flare from her sonic pulse.

But she didn’t push him away. She didn’t scream or snap or slap. She just stood there. Stunned. Silent. Claimed.

And he…He smirked.

“Oops,” he muttered, tongue pressed to his cheek as he stepped back a single inch, eyes flashing with wicked satisfaction.

Da-eun blinked rapidly, breath short, hand lifting slowly to touch her cheek where his lips had just been, “You…you..”

Ni-ki raised an eyebrow. “I what?”

She couldn’t speak. And that? That was a victory he would cherish. Pranks, yelling, glares..none of it would measure up to this moment, and he felt like he already won. 

He turned away, walking lazily toward the window and pretending to examine the fading light. “Oh, and Dae?”

Her eyes snapped to him again.

“Next time…” he looked over his shoulder, his voice dropping into a low rumble. “…you’ll kiss me back.”

Then he was gone. Just like that. Leaving her breathless. And undeniably, irrevocably his.

The garden was supposed to be a place of peace. A sanctuary. A hidden corner on the edge of campus where students came to think, breathe, and pretend they weren’t trapped under the rule of the Seven and hardly paid professors.

But today? It was a warzone.

BOOM!!

A tree branch snapped, crumbling like wet paper as Da-euns pulse erupted again, her sonic magic crackling through the air in furious waves. Wind twisted around her, pulling at her hair like it was caught in a storm she created.

“FUCKING NI-KI!”

The four girls stood a respectful distance away, completely unfazed.

“Well,” Kija murmured, “there she goes.”

“She’ll run out of steam in a minute,” Seori added, sipping on a smoothie she'd conjured from god knows where, “or she’ll blast the koi pond again.”

“I hope not,” Sora, Seori's roommate, muttered. “The fish only just came back.”

“I still think they were traumatized,” Jiyoon said, folding her arms. “They swim away anytime they hear yelling.”

Da-eun, meanwhile, stomped through the garden path like it had personally offended her, hands waving as the ground vibrated beneath her boots. A flowerbed combusted at her left. A bench rattled violently on her right.

“He thinks he can kiss me, smirk like the smug little spawn of hell he is, and then disappear like a Bond Boy thats only debuted for a few weeks?” she shouted, whirling on her heel like a deranged ballerina. “I’m supposed to just sit here and giggle?! Like some kitten-eyed little...”

“You are a little kitten,” Jiyoon muttered, grinning. Seori elbowed her.

Da-eun didn’t hear them. She kept pacing, power fizzing and snapping off her skin like heat lightning. Her eyes were glowing faintly, the faint shimmer of magic bleeding through her irritation.

“I swear to all the gods, past, present, and whatever Ni-ki thinks he is...he’s lucky I didn’t rip out his smug little throat and scream Mine just to spite him!”

A bush spontaneously combusted behind her. “…He thinks just because I’m his mate I won’t reign hell down on him–”

Four heads whipped to her at once.

She froze realizing her mistake. Silence. A single squirrel chirped in the distance, then wisely fled the scene.

Seori blinked. “What was that?”

Da-eun turned slowly, hands half raised in the air like she'd been caught mid crime. “Uh…”

Jiyoon stepped forward. “No, no. Say that again.”

“I said…” Da-eun mumbled, trying and failing to gather her dignity, “…he thinks I won’t reign hell down on him.”

“Nope,” Kija said, voice flat. “The sentence before that.”

The girl in question groaned and dropped dramatically onto the grass. “I hate everything.”

“Oh my god,” Sora whispered, mouth twitching, “she finally said it.”

Jiyoon practically skipped over and collapsed beside her. “You admitted it. You finally admitted it!”

“I panicked,” Da-eun hissed. “It doesn’t count if I panicked!”

“Sweetheart,” Kija drawled, flopping beside them. “Your powers are literally nuking daffodils and shrubberies. You’re in full denial meltdown mode.”

“I hate him,” she insisted weakly, face buried in her hands.

“You love him,” Seori corrected.

“No I don’t.”

“You just called him yours," Jiyoon giggled

“It was hypothetical!” da-eun groaned. 

“You set fire to a rose bush yelling his name," Kija laughed

She glared in disgust, “That was unrelated emotional turmoil!”

Sora sat down last, knees tucked up to her chest like always. Her long black braid trailed over her shoulder, and shadows flickered faintly at her feet barely visible unless you knew to look. Quietly, she said, “It’s okay, you know.”

Da-eun looked up at the usually quiet latina, surprised.

“To want him,” Sora added, eyes thoughtful. “Even if it scares you chula.”

The wind died a little.

Da-euns fingers twitched, a sudden ache rising in her chest. Because yeah she did want him. Had wanted him for longer than she dared to say. But now everything had changed. That soft brush of lips against her cheek had sealed it. Their bond had awakened from the skin contact, and it was loud.

Louder than her magic. Louder than her fear. He was everywhere. In her bones. Her mind. Her breath. And for all her rage and sarcasm, she couldn’t ignore the truth any longer. She belonged to Ni-ki. And somehow…somehow, he belonged to her too.

“…I’m still gonna wreck his life in prank wars though,” she said finally with her stubborn self.

The girls exploded into laughter.

“Yes, baby,” Jiyoon cackled, hugging her sideways. “That’s my chaotic maknae.”

“Burn his closet again,” Seori grinned.

“Spike his shampoo,” Kija offered.

“I could…misplace his shadow for a day,” Sora said, voice soft, eyes glowing faintly.

Everyone turned to stare.

“…What?” Sora blinked. “I can.”

The mansion was too quiet.

Ni-ki stepped through the massive double doors with the rest of the guys trailing in after him. Sunghoon shrugging off his jacket, Jay cursing under his breath about a failed potion lab, and Heeseung tugging Jiyoon’s sweater from his bag like he’d somehow accidentally ended up with it again.

“Something’s wrong,” Jake said immediately.

“Yeah,” Sunoo added, nose wrinkling. “It doesn’t smell like death or misery in here. Weird.”

Jungwon’s brow twitched. “Or blood.”

And then they saw it. Ni-ki halted mid-step. His entire body froze.

There on their couch, in their living room, on the Seven’s territory sat five girls. Casual. Comfortable. Smirking.

“Oh, hell no,” Ni-ki started, but Jiyoon, seated in the center with a blanket folded neatly in her lap, calmly raised a hand.

“Truce.”

Every guy blinked.

“What,” Jay said flatly.

“We’re calling a truce,” Da-eun chimed, lounging dramatically with her arm over the back of the couch like she owned the place. “No more prank wars. It’s childish. Petty. Beneath us.”

“…Beneath you?” Jungwon echoed skeptically.

Kija shrugged from the far corner, a sucker in her mouth. “Well. Maybe not beneath me, but definitely beneath them.”

“We came to hang out,” Jiyoon added sweetly, all teeth and perfect grace. “Watch a movie. Be civil. You know…like friends.”

Heeseung squinted. “…Why do you sound like that?”

“Like what?” She asked the tall vampire.

“Like you’re about to stab me," Heeseung sighed as he carefully sat next to her. 

Jiyoon smiled, teeth glittering like a predator. “This is just my face.”

Ni-ki couldn’t stop staring.

They were all here. All five of them. Including the new one, the girl with midnight black hair, sunlit brown skin, and those unreadable dark eyes sitting beside Seori, her posture careful, deliberate. She hadn’t said a word. And the guys definitely had never seen her before.

“Who’s the extra?” Ni-ki muttered toward Heeseung.

“She’s not extra,” Jiyoon piped up. “She’s Sora.”

“We didn’t ask,” Sunghoon deadpanned.

“She’s Seori’s roommate,” Kija supplied, blowing a pink bubble between her lips. “Plays with shadows. Looks like she eats ghosts.”

“She doesn't eat ghosts,” Seori sighed, but didn’t deny the shadow part.

“…Why do you know someone who plays with shadows?” Jay whispered.

Ni-ki didn’t know what to say. But the longer he stared, the more off this felt. Still his girl was looking at him with a smug little tilt to her mouth, her chin in her hand, and he couldn’t help the way his smirk slid into place.

“Oh,” he breathed, “so this means I win.”

“You wish,” Da-eun shot back immediately.

But she didn’t deny it.

The rest of the guys settled slowly, warily, like animals unsure if the water was poisoned. But the girls acted like nothing was amiss, like they belonged here. Sora tucked herself quietly in the corner. Seori and Jay were bickering about what movie to put on. Jiyoon was stealing popcorn from Heeseung’s lap, and Kija had already stolen one of Sunghoon’s hoodies to wear only earning a silent glare.

Ni-ki slumped onto the floor next to Da-eun. He did not like how soft her laugh sounded. He did not like how warm her shoulder was against his. He definitely didn’t like the way his chest kept flipping over every time she looked at him with that teasing grin.

“I thought you hated me,” he muttered as the lights dimmed and the movie started.

“I do,” she whispered back, eyes glittering. “But hating you is exhausting. So I’m taking the night off.”

“…You’re plotting something.”

“Probably.”

He wanted to glare. He really did. But instead he snorted, tipping his head back against the couch with a little huff. “Psychopath,” he mumbled.

“Manchild,” she whispered.

And somehow it felt weirdly nice.

As the night wore on, the couches and floor were overtaken by the slow creep of drowsy bodies. Movie after movie played while soft snoring filled the space. Heeseung was passed out in a chair with Jiyoon curled up on top of him. Kija had taken the floor, draped in a comforter like a snake in hibernation. Seori was leaning on Jay's shoulder with a small pillow tucked under her head (he hadn’t moved in forty minutes). Sunghoon and Jungwon were slumped near the fireplace. Jake had somehow ended up beneath a pile of pillows. Sunoo had claimed the entire loveseat for himself. Sora tucked into a wall and just stared at the ceiling. 

And Ni-ki? Ni-ki sat there on the floor next to Da-eun, blinking slow and heavy as sleep tugged at him. She was still close. Still warm. Still smiling that sly little smile like she knew something he didn’t.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?” he mumbled sleepily.

“No reason.”

“You’re lying.”

“Obviously.”

His eyes slipped shut. The room dimmed further. And then Ni-ki passed out.

Unaware of the five mischievous girls now very much awake. Smirking like villains. Ready for war.

The moon hung high over the vampire mansion, casting a silver glow through the enormous glass windows and bathing the living room in a deceptively peaceful hush. Bodies were sprawled across the furniture and floor like a battlefield aftermath except instead of corpses, it was the infamous Seven.

Sleeping like the undead they were.

And they never saw it coming.

Not when Sora stood in the corner of the room just an hour before, her hands gently lifted as shadows seeped from her skin, swirling like smoke tendrils across the furniture and slipping into the noses and ears of each boy in the room. The shadows were gentle, not malicious. A fae lullaby that would keep them in dreamland for hours. Maybe longer.

It was perfect.

Now, in the oversized bathroom on the upper floor, the girls were in full chaos mode.

Jiyoon was bent over the counter, thick black gloves on as she hovered a bowl of fiery blazing red dye over a slumped over Heeseung, who was still fast asleep in the office chair Kija had dragged in earlier.

“You sure he’s out?” Kija asked, giggling as she separated strands of his perfect ash gray hair.

“He’s snoring like a fucking chainsaw,” Da-eun snorted. “Let me at Ni-ki, I’m dying to ruin him.”

“I have your bowl ready,” Seori said, holding up a porcelain mixing bowl like a crown. “Pure white. Even his eyebrows. He’ll look like a confused albino deer.”

Da-eun cackled. “Perfect. Prince Snowflake is going down.”

“Don’t get dye on his skin,” Sora warned softly from the corner. “I’m keeping the bond breaks active, but I’m not a goddess. We can’t have any accidental mating triggered awakenings.”

“Yes, yes, Your Darkness,” Kija teased, rolling her eyes as she wrestled Jake’s head into her lap. “Relax. We’re all wearing gloves and moving like surgeons. You’d think we were planning a heist.”

“We are,” Seori said. “A revenge heist.”

“Oh, Jay’s going to scream when he sees his silver hair,” Jiyoon hummed like a lullaby. “I might cry from happiness.”

Sora let out a rare, tiny laugh. “Sunghoon’s hair is going pink.”

“Baby Princess Rose,” Da-eun whispered dramatically, flicking her brush with flair.

“God, that’s so good,” Kija grinned as she painted dark blue dye into Jake’s roots. “We should make a calendar. Twelve months of the Seven Stages of Humiliation.”

“I call dibs on Miss July,” Jiyoon called.

“I bet Heeseung’s gonna combust when he sees himself in red,” Seori smirked. “Literally looks like a flaming hot Cheeto.”

“I love Cheetos,” Kija whispered wistfully.

Da-eun was kneeling now, lips pressed together in deep concentration as she dabbed white dye into Ni-ki’s hair. He looked oddly peaceful for someone so evil.

“Idiot,” she muttered. “Look at him, sleeping like a spoiled prince. Should dye his eyelashes too.”

“Do it,” Seori encouraged, throwing her a Q-tip.

They all burst into giggles again.

It was a perfect picture of unholy sisterhood, five girls crouched around their unconscious soulmates and semi-enemies, bowls of vibrant dye, laughter spilling out of their mouths, eyes shining with victory. They moved like witches around a cauldron, except instead of spells, they dealt in bleach and vengeance.

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” Kija asked, even as she foiled the ends of Jake’s now-navy locks.

“Because,” Da-eun said proudly, “they thought we were weak.”

“They thought we were done,” Jiyoon added.

“They called us friends,” Seori said, offended.

“They didn’t even lock their rooms!” Sora pointed out, flicking a strand of pink across Sunghoon’s temple.

“They’re idiots,” the mastermind Da-eun grinned.

“Arrogant. Cocky. Dumb as bricks.” Seori’s eyes gleamed as she added, “Pretty bricks, though.”

“Pretty little princess bricks,” Jiyoon corrected.

“I’m calling Ni-ki Elsa until I die,” Da-eun declared. “Let it go, bitch.”

They lost it again full belly laughs as they worked through the last few strands of dye.

By the time the girls were finished, the bathroom smelled like fruity chemical warfare. The sink was lined with bowls, gloves, and towels. Each boy was carefully set upright, the dye setting beneath shower caps and loose towels tied haphazardly like regal crowns.

The Seven wouldn’t wake for another hour or two, just long enough for the girls to vanish without a trace.

They stood back, admiring their work.

Sunghoon’s head lolled over Sora’s shoulder, his now pink strands glowing in the moonlight. Jay’s silver glinted like frost. He’d probably have a meltdown. Or a fashion crisis. Jake, navy blue and blissfully unaware.

Sunoo his beautiful golden blonde stripped and dyed jet black. “You always hated it,” Kija cooed. Jungwon's wolf cut was now purple haze. Seori bit her knuckle to keep from laughing. Heeseung’s blazing red looked incredible.

And Ni-ki white hair, white brows, white lashes. Pale and frosty, sleeping like he hadn’t spent the last few years tormenting the girl now grinning over him with triumph in her bones.

“You’re not gonna know what hit you, Ice Princess,” Da-eun whispered, her eyes full of lightning.

“Alright,” Jiyoon said, slapping her gloves off. “Operation Pretty Princesses is complete.”

The girls fist bumped in silence, grabbed their things, and exited the mansion like shadows.

By the time the Seven woke, the sun would be rising and their reputations would be dying.

Popcorn popped in the microwave. A bowl of candy sat at the center of the coffee table. Sora had even brewed a pot of cinnamon tea, because she believed that chaos deserved comfort.

The five girls sat curled up on the couches and beanbags of Da-eun and Jiyoon’s shared dorm, legs crossed, matching pajamas on, snacks in hand and mischief behind every single smile.

“Ten seconds,” Jiyoon muttered, glancing at the wall clock with a smug smirk. “They just woke up.”

“They’re going to burn down the campus,” Kija said, reclining dramatically. “And I would do it again.”

“We will do it again,” Seori added under her breath, munching on a salted caramel pretzel.

Da-eun had her legs kicked up on the coffee table, arm slung over the back of the couch, a piece of candy between her teeth and her eyes locked on the door.

Waiting.

Counting.

Boom.

The dorm door flew open with a bang loud enough to shake the walls.

And there they were.

The Seven.

And their hair.

Heeseung entered first, red locks blazing like hellfire, styled wildly from sleep and frustration. His eyes locked instantly on Jiyoon, and he looked two seconds from combusting but damn if he didn’t still look hot as hell.

Jake was next his dark navy blue hair tousled like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times in horror. His brows were furrowed and his eyes were wide, like he’d just discovered he was in a boy band.

Jay stalked in after him, his once dark hair now silver. Not platinum. Not ash. Shining silver. He looked like a pissed off K-pop idol in a dystopian fantasy.

“WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?” he demanded, pointing at Seori.

Sunghoon stepped in behind him with cotton candy pink hair, and Sora actually wheezed.

“I didn’t do anything!” Seori lied with a grin. “And you sunghoonie look like a strawberry milk commercial!”

Then came Sunoo, glaring daggers, now with pure black hair that practically shimmered under the dorm lighting.

Jungwon followed, his purple hair fluffed into wolfish curls, his face set in the calm of a man plotting multiple murders.

And last Ni-ki.

Pure white hair.

White eyebrows.

White lashes.

The ice prince himself.

Da-eun locked eyes with him, biting her lip so hard it almost bled.

Heeseung pointed at the couch. “You planned this.”

“Oh nooo,” Jiyoon said in mock horror. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You dyed my hair red!”

“It looks good, babe,” she deadpanned, tossing a popcorn kernel into her mouth. “Fire suits you.”

Jake blinked rapidly. “Is this navy?! Kija..Kija?!”

“I was aiming for denim,” she said sweetly.

“I look like an anime villain!” Jay shouted again.

“That’s not our fault,” Seori replied calmly. “That’s just your personality.”

Sunghoon crossed his arms, glaring at his reflection in the glass window. “Pink? Seriously?”

“You look like a pig,” Sora said softly, and the girls broke into giggles at the insult.

Sunoo just stared at them all with the glare of a thousand suns. “You touched my blonde.”

“You said you hated it,” Jiyoon pointed out. “We were being thoughtful.”

“I look like I run an underground nightclub in Seoul,” Jungwon said, flipping a purple curl out of his eyes.

“You do,” Kija replied.

Then came the silence. The boys were glaring. The girls were laughing. The tension was as thick as syrup.

Then, “…Actually…” someone said. It was Sora, head tilted. “You all kind of look… hot?”

Everyone froze.

The guys blinked.

“Wait...what?” Ni-ki asked, pausing mid-glare.

Seori narrowed her eyes. “Oh no.”

“NO,” Da-eun said, sitting up. “Don’t do this. Don’t get cocky.”

But it was too late.

Heeseung had already leaned against the wall with a confident smirk, red hair falling into his eyes like he was about to drop an R&B mixtape.

Ni-ki pushed his newly white bangs back, licking his lips with that devil may care expression that had Da-eun's eye twitching.

“Oh my god,” Kija groaned. “We just made them hotter.”

“This was supposed to humble them,” Seori whispered.

Jay turned his head slightly to catch his reflection in the window. “…Silver suits me.”

"I'm always sexy," Jungwon grinned. 

Jake tugged his collar, posing. “Do I…pull off blue?”

“Stop it!” Da-eun shouted flashing her fangs. “You’re supposed to be humiliated!”

Ni-ki turned to her slowly, a smug grin crawling across his face. “So what you’re saying is you noticed.”

She threw a pillow at his head. He caught it.

“I hate you,” she muttered.

“Do you?” he asked, already planning revenge for this accidental win.

“Deeply, Elsa.”

Heeseung leaned down beside Jiyoon, brushing her cheek with his thumb. “I knew you couldn’t resist dyeing me. I’m just too pretty.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” she muttered.

Sunghoon and Kija exchanged eye rolls without words.

Jay and Seori were glaring at each other again. Jake and Sunoo were flexing into their reflections.

And Sora just sipped her tea, watching the chaos unfold with quiet amusement.

Operation Pretty Princesses?

A technical failure.

But emotionally?

The girls would never stop laughing about this.

It had been exactly seven days since The Dye Job.

Seven days since Ni-ki had woken up with white eyebrows, ghostly lashes, and hair that could blind a god. Seven days since the girls cackled their way out of Da-eun and Jiyoon’s dorm like evil gremlins with glitter in their pockets.

But now…

It was Ni-ki’s turn.

He leaned back in his seat, legs spread wide like a king on a throne, arms draped over the bench behind him. The campus lunchroom buzzed with life students murmuring, magical creatures whispering, fae flickering in and out of view, witches levitating food trays. But none of it mattered.

The Seven were here.

And they were plotting.

“Everything ready?” Ni-ki muttered under his breath.

Jake nodded, a slow grin curving across his lips. “Seori’s going to lose her mind.”

“I want Kija to cry,” Sunghoon added flatly, arms crossed.

“Oh, she will,” Jay muttered darkly.

Heeseung, sitting at the head of the table like some devilish vampire prince, cracked his knuckles once. “Make it loud.”

Sunoo smirked. “Always do.”

Jungwon just gave a single nod. Calculating. Calm. Deadly.

Ni-ki looked down at his phone, sent the final text to the hidden witch on their payroll everything in this school could be bought, and waited.

Cue the girls.

Da-eun walked in first, loud and radiant as always, with her hair tied up in a bun and smugness radiating off her. Her voice echoed from across the room.

“I’m just saying, if Ni-ki tries anything, I’ll break his teeth.”

Behind her, Jiyoon, Kija, Seori, and Sora followed. All five girls glowing. Laughing. Happy. Smug.

Ni-ki’s lip curled. Perfect. The Seven sat in silence. Waited.

And then—

BOOM.

Suddenly, five massive screens dropped down from the enchanted ceiling of the dining hall with a thunderous snap. Every screen lit up in sync. And what did they show?

Footage.

From the night of the dye job.

Witch recorded footage.

Jiyoon dancing around Heeseung’s unconscious body with red dye all over her gloves. Kija holding up a bottle labeled “Ocean Madness” while laughing like a banshee. Seori whispering “he’s going to look like a fairy” as she dumped silver into Jay’s shampoo. Sora humming while mixing three colors at once with eerie, shadowy tendrils. And Da-eun

Oh Da-eun. Throwing her head back and laughing as she whispered, “I hope Ni-ki never recovers from this he’s going to look like a snowman!”

The cafeteria went dead silent.

SCREAMING.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Jiyoon let out a high pitched squeal, diving behind Sora. “HEESEUNG!!”

Seori shrieked, slapping her hands over her face. “JAY I SWEAR TO GOD!”

Kija launched a roll at Sunghoon’s head, missed, and hit a random demon in the eye.

Da-eun stood frozen. Silent. Until she realized her laughter, her evil cackling, was on every single screen. She shrieked. “NI-KI!”

The vampire himself was grinning ear to ear, white hair glinting under the magical lights.

“Oh don’t stop now,” he called across the room. “Play the second video!”

Before the girl could run, more footage rolled in.

Clips of them high fiving. Sora’s evil little snort. Kija calling Sunghoon 'Ken from hell.' Jiyoon saying she should give Heeseung green tips next time. Da-eun practicing her 'apology speech in the mirror and failing to keep a straight face.

Absolute. Chaos.

The room was in shambles. Creatures were howling with laughter. Witches were whispering about “the fall of the girl gang.” A dwarf choked on his soda.

And the girls? All five of them were screaming. Yelling. Throwing food.

But the Seven?

Oh, the Seven just leaned back in their chairs, arms folded. Smirking.

Heeseung gave a slow clap. Jay saluted. Sunoo winked. Jake blew Kija a kiss. She nearly combusted. And Ni-ki?

He stood up, walking with slow, smug steps across the cafeteria toward his fuming mate, dodging the half empty water bottle she hurled at his head.

“I win, sweetheart,” he said in a low voice, stopping inches from her.

Da-eun looked like she wanted to rip her own face off. But instead? She narrowed her eyes. Smiled. “Oh baby,” she said sweetly. “You better sleep with one eye open.”

Ni-ki just grinned wider. “I always do.”

Later that day, The sleek black car purred beneath Ni-ki’s palm as he adjusted the collar of his designer coat. Leather interior. Tinted windows. Heated seats. The damn thing was built to scream royalty. Just like everything else in his life.

He didn’t look up from his phone as he started the engine, eyes scanning the message from his mother, Can’t wait to see you, darling. Tell the boys I said hello.

He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Yeah, no.”

The wind shifted. The smell of a fresh storm and heat slammed into him. And then a flash. His passenger door clicked shut. He blinked once. Then slowly turned his head. There, in his passenger seat, wearing black ripped jeans, a cropped hoodie, combat boots and a very irritated pout on her face, was Da-eun.

Oh. Hell.

“What the..” he started, sitting upright. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t even glance at him. Just crossed her arms with a dramatic huff, looking straight ahead like she owned the car. “What do you think? I’m visiting your parents, obviously.”

Ni-ki's jaw ticked. “How the hell did you?”

“I’m psychic.”

“No, you’re not," he groaned.

“I am now.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You can’t read minds.”

“Maybe I can. Maybe I’m full of surprises.” She looked over at him with a smug tilt of her head.

He squinted. “You heard me telling Jungwon, didn’t you.”

Da-eun just shrugged.

Ni-ki groaned and slumped back in his seat, gripping the wheel like it had personally offended him. The silence that followed was thick. The kind of silence that crackled with static energy, the kind that made it hard to breathe. She was pouting. Arms crossed like she had the right to be mad, lips pursed in that soft pink way that made his gums ache. She smelled like summer and sin and something his.

She wasn’t even doing anything. Just sitting there. Looking mad. Looking soft. And it was driving him insane. Ni-ki swallowed hard. His tongue ran over his fangs, pressing against them like it would help. It didn’t. His gums were throbbing. His instincts were screaming.

Bite her. Bite her. Bite her.

No.

She turned her face toward him slowly. “Are you just gonna sit there like a statue or are we going to your house?”

“I should throw you out of my car.”

She blinked. “Try it.”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Because if he opened his mouth, he might say something stupid. Like ‘you look pretty when you’re mad.’ Or ‘I want to pin you against the window.’

Instead, he just stared at her. And she stared right back. Her heartbeat quick for a vampire. Her breathing slightly uneven. She was nervous.  She was feeling it too. That damn pull. That instinctual ache that said you’re mine. I’m yours. Why are we even pretending? He leaned slightly closer, one hand still gripping the wheel, the other reaching up to flick his blinker on just to do something.

She tilted her head. “What?” she muttered.

“You know what,” he said lowly.

“No, I don’t.”

“You’re in my car.”

“I’m your mate.”

Oh, fuck.

He choked back a groan. His fingers tightened on the wheel. That word. That one word. Coming from her.

Mate.

Mate.

Mate.

He felt like a wild animal. “Put on your seatbelt,” he gritted out.

“Why?”

“Because if you don’t, I might crash this thing on purpose.”

“Why would you—”

“Because I’m two seconds away from losing it and if I don’t have some distance right now, I’m either crashing this car or marking you in it.”

Da-eun blinked. And for once said nothing.

But her cheeks flushed, and her scent spiked with something sweeter. And Ni-ki was doomed as he held his breath.

The moment the car passed through the looming obsidian gates of the Nishimura estate, Y/n knew two things.

This place was straight out of a gothic fever dream.

Ni-ki was stupid rich. Like, dripping in dark opulence, the kind that said "my ancestors probably ruled the night with iron fangs."

Stone gargoyles perched on the towering gates. The driveway was carved from polished black marble, and the mansion itself...no, castle, stretched across acres. Ivy clung to the stone walls, and dozens of windows glimmered like obsidian mirrors.

“Jesus,” she muttered as they approached. “Do you guys sleep in coffins too or…?”

Ni-ki didn’t answer. He was too busy trying not to look at her. Because ever since she’d gotten in the car and decided to be nice, it was like his brain had melted into a puddle of want. She wasn’t being fake nice either. She was being mate level nice. Sweet smiles. Casual touches. Laughing at his jokes, complimenting his driving, resting her hand on the console just close enough that their pinkies brushed.

And she was still teasing him with every breath she took.

Her scent was like honey drenched chaos. She wasn’t just the storm she was the lightning inside it.

And Ni-ki, arrogant, cold, untouchable Ni-ki was sweating.

He parked in front of the mansion’s massive front steps, fingers tense on the wheel.

“Ready?” he asked, voice low.

She smiled. It was slow. Dangerous. Sweet. “Absolutely.”

As soon as they entered, the double doors creaking open with ancient weight, two vampires stood from the velvet couches near the hearth. Elegant. Sharp. Dressed in black silk and blood colored accents.

His parents.

His father tall, carved from shadow and power. His mother delicate and lethal, like a rose with invisible thorns.

They looked at Da-eun once, then back at their son.

Then again at hera and for a moment the silence was thick.

Until his mother smiled gently, knowingly. “So this is her.”

Da-eun blinked dumbly. “Her?”

Ni-ki groaned.

His father chuckled darkly. “We didn’t think you had it in you. You’ve never brought anyone home before. You barely even bring friends.”

Ni-ki shot Da-eun a withering look. “I told you this was a bad idea.” She stepped forward with grace that made her look like she'd walked out of a royal court.

She smiled, soft and charming. “Da-eun. It’s lovely to meet you both. Your son didn’t warn me you were so intimidating, but I guess he likes to play rough.”

She tilted her head, blinking up at them with wide eyes and a small smirk. The perfect mixture of sweet and wicked. Ni-ki’s mother grinned. Ni-ki’s father barked a laugh.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” his mother asked.

“I’d love to,” Da-eun answered with zero hesitation.

Dinner was held in a grand dining hall under a blood red chandelier. Everything was velvet and candlelight.

And the young vampire?

She was thriving. She charmed them effortlessly. Spoke clearly, cracked jokes at Ni-ki’s expense, listened when his parents shared stories, complimented the wine, nodded thoughtfully when they talked about lineage and legacy.

She laughed, touched Ni-ki’s hand just lightly enough to haunt him, and even helped clear the dishes when his mother got up and that was the moment his mom practically decided she loved her.

Ni-ki sat there, elbows on the table, watching in shock. Because this wasn’t prank war Da-eun. This was mate mode Da-eun. She was absolutely radiant. Her laugh like honey, her gaze like firelight, her words so smooth it was like she was built for this.

She wasn’t playing the part. She was owning it.

And every now and then, when she caught Ni-ki staring at her like she’d grown wings and fangs made of gold, she winked.

Later that night, as she followed Ni-ki down a candlelit corridor toward the guest room his mother had insisted she stay in, the girl thought this has been fun. The teasing. The war. The fire.

But she wasn’t fighting anymore.

Because somewhere between a prank and a blood stained locker, she’d fallen completely, stupidly, irrevocably in love with Nishimura Riki. And maybe she wasn’t quite ready to say it. But she was done pretending she didn’t want him.

She would give him a little more time to catch up. But not much.

Because one look at him at the way he opened her door, mumbled goodnight, stared at her lips before pulling away told her he was already hers.

They barely made it out the door.

Ni-ki didn’t care that the estate gates hadn’t even closed behind them yet, didn’t care that the house staff probably saw them walking toward the car hand in hand like a normal couple. Didn’t care that he’d been doing everything in his power not to bite her neck in front of his parents.

The second Da-eun opened the car door and climbed into the passenger seat, he was already moving.

The click of the door closing sealed their fate. In a blur, he was across the console, fingers gripping her hips like they were crafted to fit his hands, and he pulled her right onto his lap.

“Ni-ki,” she gasped, startled, laughing at first until she saw his eyes.

Crimson. Wild. Hungry.

He growled low in his throat, a sound that vibrated through her spine. “You think this is funny, little girl?”

She smirked, even as her heart fluttered like mad. “A little.”

Wrong move.

He growled again deeper this time and slammed his mouth against hers.

It wasn’t gentle. It was claiming. Teeth. Tongue. Desperation.

She moaned into his mouth, fingers tangling in his dark shirt. Her thighs clenched on either side of him, and he hissed, lips dragging down to her jaw, then her neck but not the spot. He wouldn’t mark her. Not yet. Not until she asked.

He bit everywhere else.

Along her collarbone. Behind her ear. Her shoulder. The curve of her throat. His sharp canines grazed her skin, just enough to sting.

“You think I don’t see you?” he growled, voice hoarse and breathless against her throat. “Walking around with that mouth, talking back to me. Teasing me like it doesn’t drive me insane.”

She just arched into him, head thrown back against the headrest, panting. “I know it does.”

“Mine.” His voice was sharp, his grip brutal but reverent. He tugged her closer until she was practically pressed into his skin. “You’re mine, Dae. You always were.”

“I am,” she purred, not flinching under his fire. “And you’re mine, Nishimura.”

He groaned. His head fell to her shoulder like he couldn’t bear it anymore. “I hate you,” he whispered.

She grinned, nose brushing his hair as her fingers slid into the strands. “Liar.”

“I do,” he muttered again, even as his mouth kissed her throat. “You’ve made me insane. I can’t think straight. I want to bite you every second I see you. I want to lock you in a fucking room and never let you out.”

Her hips ground against his, and his head snapped back, a ragged moan escaping him.

“But you won’t,” she whispered, voice breathless and wicked. “Because you like that I can fight you. You like that I make you feel.”

“I want to ruin you,” he growled, lips brushing hers again. “But I want to protect you more.”

“You’re a mess,” she teased, licking into his mouth again. “But you’re my mess.”

He kissed her like that confession shattered something in him. Like the war was over, and they both knew exactly who had won.

And then he kissed her again, harder this time. Over and over. Bruising. Intoxicating. Her hands were everywhere. His were too. The air was hot, their breathing uneven, and somewhere in the back of the car, the windows were fogging up.

But there was no rush.

No claiming.

Not yet.

Only the feeling of having each other finally, undeniably, desperately.

When they finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together and breaths ragged, Ni-ki closed his eyes.

“You’re everything,” he whispered.

She cupped his face, her thumbs stroking over the edges of his sharp jaw, and smiled.

“I know.”

The room was tense.

Silence had weight in the headmaster’s office, thick as iron, settled over the leather chairs and dark oak bookshelves like fog before a storm.

Five girls sat lined against the wall, all with wildly different expressions from amused to annoyed. Jiyoon twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. Seori looked completely unimpressed. Kija rolled her dark eyes. Sora sat like a quiet shadow in the corner. And Da-eun had her arms crossed, leg bouncing, lips pursed in frustration.

Across from them, the Seven sat scattered and lounging like this wasn’t serious at all like they didn’t have a care in the world.

Heeseung leaned back with an arm tossed behind Jiyoon’s chair, gaze bored. Jay’s jaw was locked, but he tapped his finger rhythmically against the armrest, pretending to look anywhere but Seori. Sunghoon’s legs were crossed, expression unreadable. Jake actually looked like he was trying not to laugh. Sunoo was picking at his nails. Jungwon looked the most composed but that was saying little, considering the heat in his eyes. And Ni-ki? Ni-ki was slouched down, leg propped up on another chair, head resting on his knuckles, completely smug.

The headmaster stood behind his desk, red faced and trembling, trying to assert authority.

“This..this has gone far enough,” he bellowed. “The pranks, the defiance, the chaos it’s unacceptable. You’ve disrupted the order of this school! I don’t care who you are—”

“Wrong choice of words,” Jungwon muttered, almost pleasantly.

“I’m issuing a week long suspension to all of you,” the headmaster declared, slamming a folder onto his desk. “You’ll miss next week’s classes and be barred from all school events for the next two months.”

The girls all turned their heads slightly half shocked, half impressed. But they didn’t have time to say a word. Because something shifted. Suddenly, the room dropped ten degrees.

The air wasn’t just heavy anymore, it was dangerous.

Heeseung stood first. Not fast, not violent. Just perfectlycalm. Deadly. He stepped forward, arms still at his sides, and tilted his head ever so slightly.

“Who do you think you're talking to?”

The headmaster paled. “I—I am the head of this institution, and you—”

“You work for us,” Jungwon cut in coolly. “Let’s not pretend otherwise.”

Jay stood next, adjusting the cuffs of his white shirt. “Do you really think this school would even exist without our families donations? Without our protection?”

“Our legacy built this place,” Jake added, voice sharp beneath the usual humor. “We keep it from burning to the ground. You’re just lucky we let you sit in a chair with a nameplate.”

The girls stared, stunned, as the Seven rose one by one. They were calm too calm the kind of calm that made skin crawl.

Sunghoon finally spoke, tone glacial. “Suspend us. See what happens.”

Sunoo clicked his tongue. “You won’t last a week, old man. You’ll be gone before your coffee cools.”

Ni-ki’s smile was pure sin. “And if you so much as look at Dae again with that authority complex of yours, I’ll make sure your family tree disappears."

The headmaster was trembling now. “You wouldn’t—”

“We would,” Jungwon said. “And we have.”

The room was silent.

Even the walls seemed to hold their breath.

And then, “Y-you may all go,” the headmaster stuttered. “Please. I-I see no reason to escalate anything. Just…go.”

Heeseung shot him a cold smile. “Pathetic.”

The girls stood slowly, unsure. Still a bit stunned. No one said anything until the hallway swallowed them.

“That was…” Jiyoon whispered, glancing at Heeseung.

“Fucking wicked,” Y/n finished.

Kija whistled. “Remind me to never cross you guys.”

Seori blinked at Jay. “...I didn’t know you could even threaten people like that.”

Jay scoffed and looked away, ears tinged pink.

Sora finally cracked a grin. “I feel honored?”

“They really are terrifying,” Kija said under her breath.

“We heard that,” Sunoo chimed, smirking.

“And it’s true,” Seori said dryly. “But thanks, I guess. For the protection. Or whatever that was.”

Da-eun looked over at Ni-ki, who was walking a little too smugly beside her. “Don’t let this get to your head.”

“Oh, too late,” he shot back.

The girls glanced at one another, all silently agreeing the same thing. The pranks were fun. The wars were chaotic. But they might be done with them for now.

If only to survive.

Because being suspended was one thing. But seeing the Seven unleashed?

Yeah. That was a whole new level of terrifying respect.

The sound of wet clay being squished and spun filled the bright pottery room, the scent of earth and damp sponges hanging in the air like some kind of oddly satisfying perfume. Aprons were on, sleeves were rolled, and hands were messy but the five girls couldn’t have looked more at peace.

Well, as peaceful as you could be while Jiyoon was shaping her bowl like she was molding Heeseung’s abs from memory.

“Okay, but seriously,” Kija said, flicking a glob of clay onto her own wheel with flair, “we need to talk about what happened in the headmaster’s office.”

Seori raised a brow. “You mean the moment the boys decided to go full mafia boss and destroy a man’s career for us?”

“Exactly that,” Kija snorted. “I’m not saying I’m into power moves, but if Sunghoon ever talks to me like that—”

“You’ll what?” Da-eun cut in, smirking as she shaped her vase. “Cry? Faint? Ask him to step on you?”

“I’ll punch him,” Kija declared. “Maybe kiss him first. Maybe punch him after. I’m flexible.”

Jiyoon, red in the face and spinning her third lopsided cup, mumbled, “I mean they were kind of amazing. Heeseung was so calm, and cold, and hot. Like a real CEO villain in a drama.”

The room went silent for a beat.

Then Seori blinked. “Jiyoon, you were practically drooling on him the entire walk home. I thought I was going to slip and crack my head open on the sidewalk.”

“I wasn’t-” Jiyoon started, then stopped. “Okay, maybe a little. I can’t help it.”

“Rabid dog,” Kija teased under her breath.

“I support women’s rights and women’s wrongs,” Da-eun added with a wink. “Slobber all you want, bestie.”

Across the room, Sora was quietly smoothing the rim of her bowl. She hadn’t said much, per usual, just moving through her pottery like a silent shadow. Until, “I’m thinking about writing an editorial,” she said out of nowhere, her voice quiet but sure.

All four girls froze.

“...Come again?” Seori asked slowly, like she wasn't sure she heard right.

Sora lifted her head, blinking at them with absolute seriousness. “For the school newspaper. I think I’ll title it ‘Seven Bloody Reasons to Fear and Respect the Lords of Decelis.’ Or maybe ‘Why Being Simpable Isn’t a Crime.’ Something like that.”

The silence stretched.

“Oh my god,” Da-eun choked, hands flying to her mouth.

“Sora,” Jiyoon whispered, eyes wide. “That was a full rant.”

“I support you,” Kija said immediately, proud tears threatening.

“You want to write about how cool they were?” Seori asked, grinning. “You really are one of us.”

“I’ve been one of you,” Sora said with a small smile. “I just don’t waste words unless they matter.”

Seori cackled. “Icon.”

Jiyoon leaned toward her, whispering, “Sora, be honest. If you had to kiss one of them, who would it be?”

Sora paused. Blinked. “...None.”

“Liar,” they all chorused.

“Okay, but speaking of kissing,” Kija said, twirling a lock of her hair and turning toward Da-eun. “How’s your chaotic disaster relationship with Ni-ki going?”

The girl didn’t miss a beat. She smirked, pressing her fingers into the clay and humming innocently, “I plan on getting bitten this weekend.”

“JESUS” Seori groaned, shoving away from her wheel and covering her face.

Jiyoon cheered, flinging clay into the air. “That’s my girl!”

“I hate it here,” Seori muttered.

“I support it here,” Jiyoon grinned.

“I’m covering my ears,” Sora announced, placing her palms over her head like earmuffs. “You’re all corrupted.”

Kija leaned over with a dreamy sigh. “Still planning to punch Sunghoon. But like…with tongue, maybe.”

“Please stop talking,” Seori pleaded, laughing despite herself. “I said I’d be nice to Jay for one hour next time I see him, and that’s it. No touching, no eye contact, and he better stay out of my personal bubble or I swear to all the devils he will die.”

“He breathes near you and you melt,” Da-eun said under her breath.

“I do not—”

“You do,” Jiyoon and Kija said in unison.

The room erupted into laughter, messy and warm. Clay flew, jokes fired, and for the first time in a long time, everything felt light.

They’d survived the storm. Fought the chaos. Laughed through the madness.

And now?

Decelis Academy stood like a carved monument to the supernatural elite, its sprawling gothic towers and silver threaded iron gates pressed into the cliffside like a castle out of time. Storm clouds drifted low overhead, casting long shadows over the academy’s pristine courtyard where marble paths glistened from the morning rain. There was no human here, no trace of the mundane. Only creatures born of dark bloodlines and cursed destinies.

The school was a nest for the gifted and the dangerous.

Inside the high arched corridors, chandeliers dripping with crystal swung gently from the ceilings. Books floated into hands, voices whispered in languages long extinct, and the scent of old paper, blood, and power filled the air.

And seated at the very back of every room, like thrones placed just above the rest of the world...were them.

The Seven.

Heeseung. Jay. Jake. Jungwon. Sunoo. Sunghoon. Ni-ki.

Their presence was thunder held in skin. And everyone felt it.

No matter where they went—classroom, courtyard, ballroom—the atmosphere shifted like the tide bending around their gravity. They were more than S-tier. They were untouchable. Impossibly handsome, cruelly intelligent, dripping in elegance and wealth that even the noble houses bowed to. Each one was carved from something ancient and immortal.

They didn’t speak to outsiders. They didn’t need to.

They were known for sitting in silence through lectures, cups of blood in hand, eyes drilling holes in walls. They didn’t need grades. Professors didn’t bother them. Rumors said the headmaster himself deferred to their bloodlines.

Today was no different.

In a circular lecture hall carved from obsidian and moonstone, students filtered in nervously, careful not to get too close to the far back row. The Seven were already there, slouched in effortless indifference, dressed in their custom tailored uniforms and varying expressions of boredom.

Heeseung sat in the center.

Eyes like winter storms, ash gray hair swept back, one leg crossed over the other, his sharp jaw resting on his hand. He hadn’t spoken since he walked in. He didn’t need to.

When Heeseung wanted something, the world tilted to give it to him. The others joked he was born to be king, but they never meant it as a joke.

Jay leaned beside him, flipping a dagger between his fingers like he might gut someone for sport if the class dragged on too long. Sunghoon had his AirPods in, music clearly playing, but his cold eyes never missed a thing. Jungwon sat like a prince: straight backed, composed, expression unreadable. He was one of the youngest, but no one dared speak to him without permission.

Jake, for once, was twirling a pen between his fingers with an expression of lazy curiosity. “Ten gold says the new fire nymph girl throws herself at you again,” he muttered to Heeseung.

Heeseung didn’t blink. “She’s boring.”

Sunoo snorted, leaning forward on his elbows. “They’re all boring.”

“I like the witch who cursed your drink last week,” Ni-ki added, voice flat. “She had guts.”

“You mean the one who ran out crying after Heeseung looked at her?” Jay laughed darkly. “Iconic.”

A few students in the front rows turned, likely pretending to search for a pencil or stretch their necks, but everyone knew the truth.

You didn’t look at the Seven.

Not for long. And definitely not with interest.

The professor entered then, robes fluttering, voice echoing as he called for attention.

The Seven didn’t move. They sat like gods watching over a temple.

Then the room shifted. It was subtle. Barely perceptible. But Heeseung’s nostrils flared.

The scent hit first rain and ink, wild and clean, like the moment before a storm slashes the earth. His jaw tightened.

“What the hell is that smell?” Sunghoon muttered, straightening. Jake sat up a little. “Whoever it is... they’re not from here.”

No one turned. The Seven never looked until it was worth it.

The professor cleared his throat again. “Before we begin, we have a new transfer student starting today.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “Oh good, another cousin of a noble’s cousin’s dog.”

The professor stepped aside.

And the doors opened.

She entered without hesitation.

A girl with long, ink black hair that shimmered under the torchlight, posture proud, movements deliberate. She didn’t flinch under the dozens of eyes burning into her back. She didn’t shrink or stammer. She just walked.

The Seven didn’t know her name yet.

But Heeseung...Heeseung couldn’t stop staring.

And that pissed him off.

Heeseung didn’t realize he was holding his breath until she passed his row.

That scent cut through the blood soaked air of the hall like a blade. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached, the bone grinding behind the tension in his temples. Something ancient stirred beneath his skin, something that wasn’t supposed to be awake. Not yet.

She walked past without a single glance.

Not at him. Not at any of them.

Not even Jungwon.

Who the fuck does that?

The girl moved like she belonged to no one. Her shoes didn’t even echo. Like the school itself bent under her steps and absorbed the sound in honor. Her uniform fit perfectly, but there was something off like she’d altered it subtly, like she refused to wear it the way everyone else did. A button undone at the collar. Sleeves rolled just high enough to reveal pale, veined wrists.

She didn’t look for an empty seat.

She chose one. Middle of the room, third row, center. Where every single angle in the room could see her.

“She’s ballsy,” Jake murmured, voice low, amusement lacing the syllables. “I like her.”

“She smells like trouble,” Sunghoon muttered, leaning back with narrowed eyes. “And you know I hate trouble.”

Heeseung said nothing.

Because he couldn’t. His senses were locked.

Her scent was still in the air thick now, spreading, mixing with the leather and cedar of his own bloodline. It made his stomach twist, made the tips of his fingers tingle. She was sitting still, barely even breathing, but his entire body felt like it was wired to her every movement.

Mine.

The word whispered again in his skull. A growl nearly rose in his throat.

Heeseung’s hand twitched. He slammed his palm down on the desk to stop himself.

Jay glanced at him, one brow raised. “You good, Heeseung?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. Too fast. Too sharp, clearly he wasn't fine.

The others went quiet.

Sunoo tilted his head, lips twitching. “Interesting.”

Jake whistled under his breath. “The king’s finally cracked.”

“I said I’m fine,” Heeseung repeated, voice low and dangerous.

The professor began speaking again, lecturing on historical bloodline treaties, but Heeseung didn’t hear a word. Not a single one.

Because she still hadn’t looked at him.

Because she still hadn’t felt what he was feeling...like there was a thread, nearly invisible, pulling taut between them.

It made no sense.

There were no mating marks. No glowing symbols beneath skin. That only appeared when the bond awakened fully.

But he felt it.

He didn’t know who she was.

And yet… he felt as if he’d always known her.

She shifted slightly in her seat, and the scent hit him again; like wet ink and thunderclouds, a storm made flesh.

Heeseung leaned back in his chair slowly, muscles tight beneath his blazer, dark eyes never once leaving her.

This girl. This… transfer. She wasn’t like the others.

And Heeseung wasn’t fine.

Not at all.

The classroom buzzed with quiet chatter, papers shuffling, chairs dragging, a few bored groans as students slid into their seats. Sunlight streamed in slanted lines through the high gothic windows, dust particles dancing in the gold. The scent of blood tea lingered faintly in the air, mixing with clean parchment and aged wood.

Jiyoon stepped in with the same quiet grace she had carried her whole life.

Back straight. Gaze soft but alert. The world always seemed too loud, too sharp, and too full of eyes. So she learned early on to move like a whisper through it.

No one paid her much attention at first. A few glanced up, perhaps curious about the girl who hadn’t shown up for classes until now. But in a school full of predators, silence was survival, and blending in was its own kind of power.

She took the empty seat in the third row, close enough to hear clearly, far enough not to be noticed. She didn’t want attention.

And definitely not from them.

Her roommate, Da-eun, had already warned her in that flippant, chaotic tone she used when she was trying to sound casual but actually meant something. “Stay away from the Seven,” she had said. “Seriously. I mean it, Jiyoon. They're beautiful, yeah, but they bite. And not in the cute way.”

Jiyoon had just smiled politely and nodded.

Now, she understood what Da-eun meant.

They sat in the very back row of the lecture hall like kings watching over a court. Seven young men with too much power and far too little concern for the rest of the world. Every movement, every breath seemed choreographed, deliberate. Most of them weren’t even pretending to pay attention to the professor. One was tossing a silver coin between his fingers. Another leaned back in his seat, legs stretched out arrogantly. Two were quietly arguing in a way that sounded more like a dare than a disagreement.

And one… was staring.

She felt it before she saw it. That weight. That pull.

It hit her like a slow wave, a scent so specific, it nearly knocked the wind out of her.

Cedar and leather.

Rugged. Expensive. Warm and musky, but sharpened at the edges like a blade hidden in velvet. Her chest tightened before she could stop it. Her heart skipped, then tripped, then tried to right itself. She kept her eyes trained on the desk, pretending to flip a page she hadn’t even looked at.

Don’t look. Don’t engage.

It was just scent. That was all. Female vampires were more sensitive to that sort of thing, especially the rare ones like her. Maybe it was a bloodline thing, maybe not. Either way, it didn’t matter.

She wasn’t here for anyone but herself.

No bonds. No drama. No Seven.

Especially not the one whose stare she could feel burning a hole through her skull.

She breathed in slowly rain and ink, her own scent grounding her. Familiar. Clean. It calmed the rush inside her, steadied the noise.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, relaxed her jaw, and pressed her hand to the open textbook in front of her.

The world could fall apart around her and she’d still be here, still trying to make it through the day. Still learning. Still surviving.

And she had no idea that fate had just opened its eyes.

The Council Hall was built like a cathedral for kings. High, domed ceilings soared above the massive round table carved from obsidian stone, its veins glinting red like dried blood beneath the chandeliers. Every sound echoed. Every breath was deliberate.

No teachers here. No headmasters. Just them.

The Seven.

Heeseung leaned back in his high-backed chair, fingers folded beneath his chin. His dark coat hung open, revealing a perfectly pressed black button-down and slacks. Not a wrinkle in sight. Not a hair out of place. His expression unreadable.

Not bored. Not engaged.

Just… there.

Six other chairs circled the table, each filled by one of his brothers-in-blood. And while they didn’t speak unless they had something worth saying, the tension between them crackled like static. The Seven never relaxed. Not really. Not here.

Not in the place where they ruled.

Each of them had their role in the Council—positions not earned, but claimed. This wasn’t democracy. This was power in its purest form.

Heeseung Chairman of Order. The one who kept everything moving. Final decisions. Votes. Approvals. Discipline. His word meant law in the absence of the school’s elusive headmaster.

Jungwon Head of Security and Strategy. You didn’t get past the campus perimeter without his eyes knowing it. He tracked threats, movement patterns, blood trafficking, shifter negotiations.

Jay Head of Discipline. If Jungwon caught a problem, Jay handled it, usually without mercy. Cold, intimidating, and with a record of making offenders disappear. No one asked how.

Sunghoon Head of Public Relations. Don’t let the title fool you. Sunghoon didn’t care about feelings—he cared about face. Events, image, cover ups. He could smile at a gala while plotting your funeral.

Jake Head of External Alliances. He dealt with other academies, noble houses, and bloodline councils. Charming, fluent in lies, and the only one who could talk circles around a dragon and live.

Sunoo Head of Intelligence. If it could be known, Sunoo knew it. Blackmail, secrets, schedules, background checks. A razor tongued devil in pastels. Information passed through him or it didn’t pass at all.

Ni-ki Head of Innovation and Training. The youngest, but lethal. He ran the combat programs, magic advancements, and the council’s shadow curriculum. If he said your squad failed, they were gone.

At the moment, all seven were seated in silence as a shaky, pale vampire mid-tier and trembling stood before them clutching a digital tablet. His voice cracked as he tried to explain why the Moonfall Ball setup was behind schedule.

Sunghoon raised a single eyebrow, gaze sharp as a scalpel. "You’re five days behind."

"I-yes, sir, but the shipment was delayed-"

Jake leaned forward, chin resting on his knuckles. "And you didn’t think to prepare a contingency? You knew the expectations. We gave you budget, time, and authority."

“I thought I could make it work-”

Jay scoffed quietly. “You thought.”

Heeseung tapped a finger on the table once. That sound alone made the boy fall quiet. "Do you know what your role is, Seojin?" Heeseung asked calmly. Not cold...just detached.

"Y-yes."

"Do you?" Heeseung asked again. "Because right now, you're wasting my time, and if you're wasting my time, then you're wasting everyone’s.”

Jungwon didn’t even blink. "You’re dismissed."

Sunghoon added, “Don’t come back.”

The young vampire hesitated, just for a second, but Ni-ki was already standing, walking past him with a bored expression and a wave of his fingers that sent the exit doors swinging open wide. The threat was unspoken.

Get out. Now.

As the doors slammed shut, silence reclaimed the room.

Sunoo broke it with a small sigh. “One more failure and we might as well host the event in the cemetery.”

Jay muttered, “Fitting. Half the students will probably die in the combat trials anyway.”

The others smirked, but Heeseung didn’t. He sat there, brow furrowed faintly, eyes scanning the agenda hovering in holographic blue before him.

He wasn’t thinking about her.

Not the girl from earlier. Not the one whose scent he couldn’t name but hadn’t forgotten. The one with the steady hands and the downturned gaze. The girl who smelled like rain and ink and sat like she wanted to disappear.

No.

He had bigger things to worry about. Like Council policies. Like keeping the school in line before the Spring Trials. Like making sure no lower-tier vamps pulled another rebellion under the table.

That girl? She didn’t matter. Not now.

And yet… somewhere at the edge of his mind where the instincts he buried still breathed he could almost still feel her near.

He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled. The scent wasn’t there anymore.

Good.

He didn’t need distractions.

Not when the whole damn school was watching.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The roar of voices echoed like a wave through the open-air courtyard of the Academy the kind of cheering and goading that usually preceded a fight. Or a disaster. Which, in their world, was often the same thing.

Heeseung didn’t break stride.

Jake sighed as he matched his pace. “What do you think it is this time?”

“Another duel?” Jay offered, voice dry and amused. “Or maybe Ni-ki said something that made someone cry again.”

Heeseung stayed quiet.

The three of them turned the corner past the glass walled conservatory, their steps silent despite the fine gravel beneath their shoes. Heeseung’s hands were in his pockets, his long coat fluttering just slightly in the breeze. Jake pushed his hair back and exchanged a look with Jay as the crowd came into view.

Sure enough, in the center of a growing ring of students—vampires, shifters, and a few cloaked shadows likely from the elemental sect, stood Da-eun, pint-sized chaos in a plaid skirt, her voice sharp enough to make a banshee cover her ears.

Across from her, unmoving and unimpressed as ever, stood Ni-ki.

Heeseung stopped at the edge of the crowd. The tension was thick, vibrating in the air like a taut string.

Da-eun was red in the face, hands flying with each word. “You’re an idiot, you know that?! A bloodsucking idiot! Who the hell brings enchanted chili oil to a dining hall?!”

Ni-ki, entirely unfazed, lazily folded his arms across his chest. “It was funny.”

“It made my roommate choke!”

“She survived.”

“Ni-ki!”

His tone didn’t change. “I said I was sorry.”

“You spelled her name wrong in the apology note. Twice!”

Heeseung watched it all unfold with mild fascination. A full-blown argument, no touching, no magic, just words like fireworks. And neither backing down.

The crowd was eating it up but Heeseung only rolled his eyes because this was a reoccurring thing.

Jake leaned closer, voice low with laughter. “This is the fourth time this month.”

Jay smirked. “Fifth. They fought over cafeteria seating last week.”

“Who are they?” Jake asked, watching as Da-eun stomped forward, only to stop inches from Ni-ki’s chest, her hands fisted like she might punch the air instead.

“The chaos twins,” Jay muttered. “Unconfirmed mates. Betting pool is still open.”

Ni-ki blinked once down at the girl. “You’re irrational.”

“And you’re emotionally constipated!”

The crowd howled. Somewhere, someone started recording.

Heeseung finally stepped forward. His voice was steady, calm, and clipped like a scalpel.

“That’s enough.”

The crowd quieted like a switch had been flipped.

Da-eun turned, fire in her eyes, only to meet Heeseung’s unreadable stare. She blinked once. She knew exactly who he was. So did everyone else.

Jay spoke next, circling to Ni-ki’s side. “Control yourself, kid. You’re making us look like amateurs.”

Jake shot a small smile toward Da-eun. “And you impressive stamina. Consider joining the dueling circuit. You’ll fit right in.”

Da-eun rolled her eyes but didn’t back down. “I’ll pass. I don’t work well with arrogant bloodlines.”

Ni-ki looked like he might respond again, but Heeseung cut it off with a glance. The younger vampire bit back whatever smug thing was coming next and stayed quiet. Smart.

But as Heeseung turned his head slightly, he saw her.

Just a few steps behind Da-eun, half-obscured by the crowd, stood the girl from the classroom, the one with the scent that had buried itself into his bloodstream days ago like a whisper he couldn’t forget.

Her hair spilled down like a curtain of black silk, her arms folded across her chest as she stood watching silently, like she wanted to disappear into the stonework. She wasn’t loud. Wasn’t challenging.

But his eyes locked on her anyway.

She was… still.

And stunning.

His brows furrowed slightly. He didn’t even realize Jake was nudging his side until Jay muttered under his breath, “Heeseung, stop staring.”

Too late.

The girl noticed. Her gaze flicked to his and lingered, just for a second. There was something cautious behind those eyes, like she was bracing for something, even if she didn’t know what.

Then Da-eun turned and grabbed the girl’s hand, “Come on, Jiyoon-ah. These royal assholes aren’t worth the air.”

And just like that he had a name.

Heeseung watched her leave, her fingers still laced with Da-eun’s, her steps quick as she disappeared into the thinning crowd.

Jiyoon.

He said the name silently, like it was a word he already knew but had never spoken.

Jake smirked beside him. “Well, now you’re staring.”

Heeseung didn’t reply. He just turned away.

But her name her name stayed.

The crowd faded behind them with every step they took, the muffled laughter and echoes of Ni-ki’s arrogant voice finally swallowed by the high stone walls of the east wing corridor.

She didn’t say a word.

Not at first.

Not while Da-eun was still fuming, her boots clacking too loud against the marble floor, her arms crossed like she was holding herself back from marching back out there and finishing the fight with a punch to the throat.

But Jiyoon...her heart was pounding for an entirely different reason.

She’d felt his eyes. She knew he had been watching her. She didn’t know what to do with that.

Because Lee Heeseung perfect, rich, powerful Lee Heeseung wasn’t supposed to look at anyone like that. Especially not her. A newcomer. A nobody.

And yet the heat of his stare had made her ears flush pink, her throat dry. It had taken everything in her to turn away quickly, to not meet those endlessly dark eyes again.

Was she losing it?

Because now, even in the quiet safety of the halls, her chest still fluttered like a storm waiting to crack.

“—can you believe that bastard?!” Da-eun snapped suddenly, cutting through her thoughts like a blade.

Y/n blinked. “Huh?”

“Nishimura!” Da-eun groaned, throwing herself dramatically onto their shared dorm couch as they walked inside. “That idiot thinks he’s so untouchable just because he has cheekbones that could cut steel and an expensive bloodline. I swear to the stars, I’m gonna break his stupid jaw one day and sleep like a baby.”

Jiyoon closed the dorm door behind them and smiled quietly, slipping off her coat. “You guys fight like friends.”

“We fight like sworn enemies.” Da-eun kicked off her shoes with unnecessary force. “He thinks he’s the sun or something. Constantly orbiting like the whole school belongs to him. He gave me that smug smile again today, did you see? Like I’m some bug he’s too elegant to squash.”

Jiyoon just chuckled, curling up on the armchair near the window. The late afternoon sunlight filtered in, casting golden stripes across the old wooden floor. Da-eun always ran hot after an argument words spilling like gasoline, her hands expressive, her voice a rolling storm.

But she was never cruel. That was why Jiyoon liked her.

They were opposites in almost every way. Da-eun was wild, loud, always in some kind of trouble, but she was loyal and soft beneath the fire. Jiyoon, on the other hand, lived in the quiet. She stayed out of the spotlight, didn’t like drawing attention, and would rather vanish than be dragged into drama.

Still, something about today had stuck.

“Do you…” Y/n started carefully, trying to sound casual as she folded her hands in her lap. “Do you maybe like him?”

Da-eun froze mid-rant. “What?”

Y/n bit back a laugh. “You and Ni-ki. The way you guys fight—”

“Oh my god, Yoonie.” Da-eun slapped a pillow against her face before throwing it at her. “That has to be a joke. Please tell me you’re joking. I would rather stick my tongue in a blender.”

Jiyoon dodged the pillow, smiling. “That’s a little dramatic.”

“I’m serious,” Da-eun sat up, her expression deadly. “He’s cocky. Arrogant. Always acting like he’s so bored with the world. And that stupid look he gives me when I’m talking? Like I’m entertainment. Like I’m a wind-up toy that dances for his amusement.”

“Okay, okay,” Jiyoon giggled. “So… definitely not your type.”

Oh yeah he is.

“Not even on my planet,” Da-eun grumbled, though the tiniest flicker of a grin betrayed her.

Jiyoon let the laughter die down slowly.

But her thoughts weren’t on Ni-ki anymore.

They were still back in the courtyard.

On that moment.

That look.

She had felt the weight of it like a hand on her skin. Not threatening, but… intense. Curious. Hungry in a way that made her breath catch and her legs want to run but not from fear. From want.

She sighed softly and looked out the window.She didn’t know much about Heeseung.

Just that he was one of the Seven. Untouchable. Respected. Feared.

And now he knew her name.

A tremble rolled up her spine. Something was shifting, she could feel it in her bones. But what, exactly, she didn’t yet understand.

All she knew was that she didn’t want to be caught in anyone’s orbit.

And Lee Heeseung was a sun with a dangerous pull.

-------------------------------------------------------——

The smell of old paper and ink lingered in the air, grounding her. She loved being here, because the scent matched so well with her own. 

Jiyoon sat tucked into one of the far corners of the sprawling library, the ancient walls lined floor to ceiling with books that hadn’t been touched in decades. The high arched windows let in soft light, and the only sounds were the occasional scratch of pen to notebook and the hum of the heater near her boots.

Here, she could breathe.

No Da-eun shouting across the dorm. No classes. No one watching.

She had a slim black blood bag resting beside her thick open text, a straw sticking out the top as she occasionally sipped, quietly flipping a page on the ancient study of vampire bloodline politics. It was boring, but she was behind even after being in the school for a few weeks now, she hadn’t come from the kind of family that prepped her for elite classes like these. No one expected her to even make it to this academy.

She leaned forward, highlighting a passage in careful strokes when the hairs on the back of her neck rose.

Someone was staring.

She felt it.

Subtle. Sharp. Constant.

Her eyes flicked up, cautious, unsure if she was just paranoid.

But no.

Across the library, standing like he belonged despite every unspoken rule she had been warned about, was Lee Heeseung.

Tall, lean, flawless in a fitted black uniform, with dark eyes that seemed to see right through the polished rows of books and straight into her soul.

Jiyoons’s blood went cold.

The Seven didn’t come here. Not unless they needed something rare. Not unless Sunoo was lurking quietly in the back corners like a shadow. And never Lee Heeseung.

She dropped her gaze instantly, staring hard at her notebook like it held the secrets to the universe. Her fingers tightened slightly on her pen.

Why is he here?

More importantly why is he looking at me?

Her heart thudded behind her ribs as she tried to focus, flipping a page even though she hadn’t finished reading the last one. Maybe if she ignored him, he’d go away. Maybe he just...

Footsteps.

Soft, expensive.

Coming closer.

Her lungs locked.

When he stopped on the other side of her table, she didn’t dare look up. The scent of cedar and leather wrapped around her like a spell.

“You always sit here?”

His voice was smooth.

Low.

Her head snapped up, wide eyes locking with his. Her mouth opened slightly, but nothing came out. She nodded once, barely.

His gaze dropped to the blood bag. She immediately moved to slide it aside, embarrassment flushing her cheeks.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he said quietly, pulling the chair across from her and sitting down without asking. “The library, I mean.”

“I didn’t think the library was…your kind of place,” she said softly, surprised at her own voice.

A slow smile ghosted across his lips. “It’s not.”

She swallowed, uncertain. She knew how this looked. She wasn’t stupid. If anyone saw him here, talking to her rumors would spread faster than wildfire. She could already feel the walls watching. The old stone soaking up their conversation.

“You don’t have to talk to me,” she whispered.

His brows lifted. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re the Lee Heeseung,” she said, too bluntly. “And I’m…no one.”

His smile faded just a bit, and she hated how disappointed she suddenly felt by that.

“Maybe I don’t care about all that,” he said, voice dipping.

She looked at him.

Really looked.

And there it was again.

That odd flutter beneath her skin. That heat in her chest. She didn’t know what it meant. She didn’t understand it. But it had been there the moment she saw him in the courtyard and again now, thrumming like a tether between them she hadn’t asked for.

Heeseung tilted his head, like he could hear the exact rhythm of her pulse. His eyes dropped to her hand resting near her notes, ink smeared on the side of her pinky.

When his hand reached out barely brushing against hers as if it was an accident her breath caught.

A shiver danced up her arm, her fingers twitching before she could stop them.

The moment lingered.

Then he pulled back.

She didn’t know if it was her imagination, or if his jaw clenched slightly before he stood.

“Well…” he said, adjusting the sleeve of his coat. “I’ll let you get back to studying.”

She nodded dumbly, forcing herself to meet his eyes even as her heart screamed behind her ribs. “Okay.”

He took a step back.

Paused.

Then leaned down slightly so only she could hear.

“You should drink slower, by the way,” he murmured, voice like velvet. “Your pulse spikes too high when it hits all at once.”

She blinked, stunned.

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

Back into the shelves and out of the room, like a shadow had never even touched her table.

But it had.

And her hand was still burning where his fingers had touched it.

The front door of the Seven’s mansion slammed shut with a thunderous crack, echoing down the high ceilinged hall like the warning shot before a storm.

Inside, the living room was chaos as usual.

Jake was upside down on the couch, long legs draped over the back while he flipped through his phone with a blood bag half drained and dangling from his mouth.

Jay sat like a statue in one of the sleek leather armchairs, fingers steepled as he read over some new proposal from the council. Sunoo was curled on the rug beside the fireplace, idly flipping tarot cards while grumbling about how ugly everyone on campus had been lately.

Jungwon leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he stared blankly out the window, while Ni-ki and Sunghoon were arguing loudly over some racing stats on the flatscreen.

No one flinched at the door slam.

Not at first.

“Oh shit,” Jake muttered, sitting up and pulling the bag from his mouth. “The old man looks like he saw God.”

“Or a ghost,” Sunghoon said without turning around. “Same thing, really.”

Heeseung didn’t speak. He walked through the room like something was on fire, jaw tight, shoulders tense, running a hand through his hair before he threw himself onto the armrest of the couch.

Jay didn’t even glance up. “So who do we kill?”

“Not a kill thing,” Heeseung muttered, staring up at the ceiling like it might offer divine answers.

“...Then what?” Ni-ki asked, his tone skeptical. “You don’t get like this unless you’re thinking about blood shortages or council failure or maybe that time Sunoo bleached your coat.”

“That coat was hideous anyway,” Sunoo said cheerfully, still flipping cards.

“Guys,” Jungwon said, voice calm but low. “Heeseung hasn’t said anything. Which means it’s worse.”

Jake turned fully around, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “Alright, spill it. You slam the door like someone rejected your proposal.”

Heeseung looked at them all. Slowly. With the expression of a man who had lost.

“…It’s her.”

They stared.

Silence.

Then—

Jake dropped his phone. “No.”

Sunghoon blinked. “No way.”

Ni-ki leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. “You’re mated?”

Jay finally looked up from his paper, setting it aside with the air of a war general sensing incoming disaster.

“You’re sure?” Jungwon asked carefully. “The bond?”

“Touched her hand today. Didn’t mean to, but I couldn't help myself.” Heeseung exhaled through his nose, like he still couldn’t believe it. “Felt like my ribs cracked open.”

Sunoo cackled. “Oh my god. Lee Heeseung. The heir. The quiet, cold, scowling one who hasn’t smiled in twenty-two years. You got matched?”

“I’m doomed,” Heeseung muttered. “She’s… she’s small. Timid. Skittish. She looks at me like I’m going to bite her. And now I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Jake grinned. “That’s not doom, man. That’s hot.”

“She won’t even look at me,” Heeseung snapped. “I don’t think she likes me. She was sipping blood and studying and probably praying I’d walk the other way.”

Jay stood slowly. “Who is she?”

“You’ve seen her, Jiyoon.” Saying her name felt like a blessing and a curse all wrapped in one.

A beat.

“The new girl with Da-eun?” Jungwon asked.

Ni-ki groaned from the couch. “Oh, her. The one who looks like she might faint when someone raises their voice.”

Heeseung nodded once. “Her scent is phenomenal. She doesn't even realize what we are to each other yet.”

“She will,” Jay said simply.

Sunoo rolled over onto his stomach. “So what’s the plan, mated-one? Gonna stalk her into submission?”

“I’m not going to stalk her.”

“Sure,” Jake said, already laughing. “But you’re totally going to ‘accidentally’ end up at every place she goes, right?”

“I don’t need this from you.”

“But you do need her,” Sunghoon pointed out, his tone quieter. “You’re already unraveling.”

Jay crossed his arms. “We all knew this would happen eventually. One of us would get claimed first.”

“And of course, it’s Grandpa Lee,” Ni-ki muttered under his breath, grinning like a brat.

Heeseung groaned.

“She’s scared of me,” he admitted. “I don’t want to scare her. I just… I can’t stop watching her.”

Silence settled for a second, until Jungwon finally spoke.

“You know how this works. It doesn’t matter how she looks or where she came from or what you were before. She’s your mate. That makes her ours too.”

The others didn’t speak, but it was clear.

Agreement.

Unspoken loyalty.

Unshakable.

They would protect her. Not because she was powerful. Not because she was well known.

But because she was his.

And Heeseung had always protected them.

Now it was their turn.

“Someone tell Da-eun to chill before she scares her again,” Jake muttered.

“Someone tell you to stop hitting on every female in her class,” Jay added.

Sunoo smirked. “Someone tell Jiyoon to brace herself.”

Ni-ki rolled his eyes. “Someone tell Heeseung to stop sulking and go get his girl.”

Heeseung didn’t respond.

But the corner of his mouth twitched. Just a little. Because for the first time in a long time, the predator wasn’t sure if he was hunting… or being hunted. And he didn’t mind it at all.

——————————————————————————

The lunchroom of Decelis University was nothing short of extravagant. Crystal chandeliers floated midair, pulsing softly with the magic that held them there, and the floor gleamed with obsidian tile that never dulled. Long velvet lined tables were scattered in elegant arrangements yet even in the opulence, there was a very clear social divide.

Shifters in the far back. Witches on the left. Lower-tier vampires near the kitchen. Elites in the center.

And perched like kings at the highest table, seated just slightly above the others with a full view of the room was the Seven.

They didn’t eat with the rest of the student body.

They didn’t need to. And they for damn sure didn’t want to.

Heeseung sat in his usual chair, elbow braced against the marble table, fingers spinning a blood stirring ring absentmindedly. He wasn’t paying attention to the chatter around him. Not really.

Until he saw her.

His eyes locked instantly not because she was doing anything special. In fact, she looked like she wanted to disappear, shoulders hunched slightly, hair falling forward in soft waves as she listened quietly to the chaos that was her roommate.

Da-eun, the walking migraine.

Heeseung sighed softly through his nose. Even now, he didn’t understand how she had friends.

But there they were.

And they were all... weirdly close.

At Jiyoons table sat the loud mouthed vampire herself, Da-eun, and girl with shimmering skin and mischievous green tinted eyes, Fae, unmistakably so; and another dark skinned girl with an effortless, magnetic grace and an aura that pulsed with heat and allure.

Sirens. Heeseung would’ve recognized it anywhere.

“What in the actual hell am I looking at?” Ni-ki asked, breaking the silence at the Seven’s table. His tray of untouched food sat forgotten. “Da-eun has friends? Functional ones?”

Jake turned to squint at the table across the room. “Is that... a siren and a fae? Sitting with two vampires?”

“Species don’t mix like that,” Jungwon muttered, clearly intrigued.

“Apparently, nobody told them,” Jay added.

Heeseung didn’t say anything.

His gaze was locked. On her.

Jiyoon looked so damn soft. So quiet. A stark contrast to her tablemates.

She didn’t even seem to notice the way heads turned or the way her little group was starting to draw attention from every corner of the cafeteria.

“She’s so pretty,” Sunoo said bluntly, leaning forward. “It’s like annoying.”

Jay hummed in agreement, but his eyes were pinned to the fae girl beside Heeseungs mate, the one with slightly iridescent pupils and a subtle tilt to her head like she was always half listening to the wind.

Seori.

He didn’t know her name yet.

But he would.

“That's the weirdest thing I’ve seen since the ogre tried to pledge Red-Sig,” Jake said, dragging his hand down his face. “Like, what is this, a supernatural support group?”

“The Rejects,” Ni-ki muttered, narrowing his eyes. “What does Da-eun have that’s got them all following her around like ducklings?”

“Chaos,” Jungwon replied. “And unfortunately good looks.”

Kija, the siren, popped a grape into Da-eun’s mouth mid-rant. Jiyoon giggled into her sleeve making Heeseungs ears perk up.

Ni-ki’s nose wrinkled. “I take it back. I hate all of them.”

Jay chuckled low. “You’re just mad you can’t figure her out.” He was talking about Da-eun.

“Her whole existence pisses me off.”

“Because she’s immune to your brooding.”

Sunghoon, who had been oddly silent, finally leaned back in his chair. His eyes hadn’t moved once from the siren girl. He didn’t even realize it.

Neither did she.

Heeseung’s grip on the blood flask in his hand tightened slightly.

Jiyoon still hadn’t looked at him.

He could feel the bond pulling tight like a thread around his ribs, a gentle but constant pressure. It was never painful, just present. Always present. Like a heartbeat that wasn’t his.

And when another student a shifter, lanky and grinning walked too close to her and said something that made her laugh, Heeseung saw red.

He wasn’t even with her. Not really. She didn’t even know.

But his body didn’t care.

Mine, it whispered.

Jay tilted his head. “You good, old man?”

Heeseung’s eyes didn’t move. “That shifter’s gonna lose a tooth.”

“Damn,” Jake muttered. “You’re worse than I thought.”

Sunoo grinned, his fox-like eyes lighting up. “So we’re all doomed once our mates show up, huh?”

Heeseung leaned back slowly, lips twitching as he finally looked away.

“Speak for yourself,” Ni-ki muttered. “I’m not letting anyone ruin my life.”

“You’re already ruined,” Jake said cheerfully.

“Don’t start.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Don’t.”

They all laughed, even Jungwon, who rarely smiled.

But Heeseung didn’t join in. He was already planning how to approach her again. Because even if she didn’t know it yet…

She was his and he was hers.

And he had all the time in the world to prove it.

The bass thumped like a heartbeat through the glowing walls of the Red-Sig frat house, deep, primal, and vibrating through the floorboards. Red-Sig was the vampire run frat on campus, notoriously selective and usually packed with purebloods, but tonight the doors were open wide.

The entire school was here.

And Jiyoon wrapped in black leather pants, a slinky crimson top, and confidence she hadn’t felt in weeks was dancing in the middle of it all.

Da-eun, of course, was a menace, dragging everyone into the fray the moment they stepped in. She looked like chaos in human form: her cobalt top shimmered under the strobe lights, and her hair was whipped half into a bun, half loose around her neck. The fae, Seori, was dancing barefoot because she hated the feel of shoes. And Kija the siren had her 3a hair slicked back and was currently twirling like the goddess she swore she wasn’t.

They were loud. They were wild.

And everyone was staring.

Jiyoon caught glances everywhere some curious, some disapproving, and a few just confused. A vampire. A siren. A fae. And another vampire who didn’t act like the rest.

What were they doing, moving as one?

She didn’t care. Not tonight.

This was the most fun she’d had since arriving at Decelis.

“Tell me this doesn’t feel like a fever dream!” Da-eun shouted over the music, her arms in the air.

“It does,” Jiyoon laughed, breathless as she spun under Seori’s arm. “But like, the good kind.”

“I’m sweating,” Seori complained, tugging her hair up. “And these lights are foul.”

“You literally have magic,” Kija reminded her. “Cool yourself down.”

“I’m not wasting fae energy on sweating.”

“Then shut up and dance.”

Jiyoon's smile didn’t falter. Her eyes closed for a moment, letting the music carry her, her heart pounding in time with the drums, her lungs aching from laughter. She hadn’t felt this alive in so long.

But even in the rhythm, even in the heat of the bodies and the rush of being young and free…

Her mind kept slipping.

To him.

Lee Heeseung.

Ever since that day in the library when his fingers brushed hers 'accidentally', something had awakened. A spark? A burn? She didn’t know what to call it. But it was there, clawing beneath her ribs, wrapping around her neck, her wrists, her spine.

Calling.

And she hated how she wanted to answer.

Not because she disliked him she didn’t. She didn’t know him. And yet her heart jumped at the thought of his voice. Her body flushed at the memory of his gaze. The way he looked at her like he already owned her. Like he’d never stop.

Her soul… knew.

He’s my mate.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

Da-eun didn’t know she’d figured it out. None of them did. She hadn’t told a soul not even after all those friendly glances Heeseung had thrown across the cafeteria. Not even when she started waking up from dreams that smelled like cedar and leather.

Because she wasn’t stupid.

Getting involved with him was dangerous.

It meant attention. Rumors. Losing herself. She had worked too hard to be free in her own skin again. She wasn’t ready to hand herself over, even if some part of her ached to.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

But as the crowd pressed closer and the music pulsed louder, her body stilled.

And then...There it was.

That pull. Subtle. But unmistakable. Like gravity shifting. Like her blood humming louder. Like every fiber of her supernatural instincts bracing for something ancient and intimate and inevitable.

He was here. They were here.

She turned slowly, heart suddenly frantic, her eyes scanning the entrance. The doors of the frat house were still open and through the swirling lights and moving bodies, the crowd split just enough to reveal a shadowed entry. And walking in like death incarnate draped in velvet?

The Seven.

All of them.

They didn’t smile. Didn’t even try to look like they belonged.

Jay with his permanent glare. Sunghoon with his unreadable, winter-born grace. Ni-ki already rolling his eyes at the loud music. Sunoo smirking at someone he was probably about to verbally destroy. Jake shoving his hands in his pockets like he couldn’t care less. Jungwon with his hands behind his back, the one with the sharpest silence of them all.

And Heeseung.

His eyes found her instantly.

Not her group.

Her.

Jiyoons lungs emptied.

His ash gray hair was slightly tousled, his black jacket hanging open to reveal a shirt that somehow made him look more dangerous, not less. His expression didn’t change but his eyes were locked to hers like they’d always belonged there.

And something in her cracked.

This wasn’t just some stupid party.

This was a storm.

And it had just found its eye.

The moment the Seven stepped deeper into the Red-Sig frat house, people noticed. Bodies shifted subtly to the side, some shrinking in their presence, others whispering with wide eyes.

But the strangest part? They didn’t just enter and disappear into shadows like usual.

They were coming this way.

Directly this way.

She blinked once. Then again.

“No…” Da-eun whispered, staring past her shoulder, a drink half-lifted. “There’s no way. They’re not… Are they?”

“They are,” Seori said flatly, her voice deceptively calm.

Kija cocked her head, her siren instincts already humming. “This is going to be interesting.”

Jiyoon turned slowly, just as seven tall figures came to a smooth, confident stop directly in front of them. They were still arranged like a perfect arc not touching, never touching, each radiating power in their own way. Yet for the first time ever, they didn’t feel untouchable.

They felt present.

Heeseung stood in the middle, just slightly ahead of the others. His eyes were already on hers. That was no surprise. What was surprising was how he… smiled. Just a little.

Teasing. Like this was funny to him.

“Not going to introduce your friends?” he asked smoothly, voice just loud enough to cut through the low thrum of music around them.

She opened her mouth. Then closed it.

Then glanced at the girls beside her. Da-eun, who looked ready to either combust or kill someone, Seori who was eyeing Jay like he’d just personally offended her, and Kija, who had gone oddly quiet while staring straight at Sunghoon.

“…You want to know my friends?” she asked, blinking.

Heeseung’s gaze flicked to her mouth. Then back to her eyes. “That a problem?”

She cleared her throat. “I just… thought you didn’t like outsiders.”

That earned a snort from Jake behind him. Jay’s expression twitched like he was about to say something cruel but then stopped, eyes catching briefly on Seori before looking away.

Jiyoon caught that.

She caught the way Sunghoon’s brows dipped ever so slightly before his gaze flicked off Kija like it burned.

And she definitely caught Ni-ki’s eyes dragging down Da-eun’s figure which Da-eun hadn’t noticed yet or they’d be dealing with bloodshed.

“…Noted,” Jiyoon muttered under her breath.

“Well?” Heeseung prompted, voice still low and coaxing. “Names, please.”

She hesitated, lips pursing. But her heart was thudding so loud she almost missed the way her friends leaned in subtly behind her, like a united wall of rebellion and confusion.

She gestured first. “This is Da-eun. She’s my roommate.”

Da-eun offered no smile. “I’m the cool one.”

Ni-ki made a noise in the back of his throat. “You’re the annoying ass one.”

Da-eun scoffed crossing her arms. “You wanna go, black hole?”

“Anytime.” Ni-ki smirked.

“Please,” Jake muttered. “Don’t start punching each other at a party.”

Jiyoon coughed. “Anyway. This is Seori. And Kija.”

Kija gave a polite tilt of her head, but her arms remained crossed. Seori just smiled sweetly so sweetly that Jay immediately narrowed his eyes again and looked away like he had never made eye contact.

Jiyoon didn’t miss that either. What was going on with this group of people?

But what she did notice more than anything else was how all of them every single one of the Seven greeted her and only her.

A small nod here. A “good to see you” from Jake. A flash of a smirk from Sunoo. Even Sunghoon gave her a curt, respectful nod that made Kija blink. Jungwon, who hadn’t said a word, gave a quiet, “Glad you’re settling in,” that made her brows lift slightly.

What the hell.

She was no one.

No one but his.

Her heart stuttered.

And then his fingers slipped around hers.

Warm. Possessive. Natural.

“Walk with me?” Heeseung asked, though it wasn’t really a question.

She stared at him.

And let him pull her away.

As she passed Da-eun, she caught the girl's narrowed gaze.

“Text me if he murders you,” Da-eun called.

Jiyoon threw her a thumbs up over her shoulder as Heeseung guided her away from the pulsing crowd, through the hall, past flickering neon and up toward the quieter part of the house.

And still, he held her hand.

Still, he didn’t speak.

Until they were somewhere no one else could hear them.

Somewhere quieter.

Somewhere closer.

Heeseung didn’t stop until they were far enough from the noise that the bass faded into a dull hum. A hallway, mostly empty, dimly lit by crystal sconces and bathed in soft gold. No doors open, no eyes watching. Just them.

And he didn’t let go of her hand.

Not until he had her exactly where he wanted her.

With a fluid, casual grace, Heeseung stepped in closer and closer still, until her back brushed against the cool wall behind her. His arms came up, palms bracing on either side of her head as he caged her in, not to trap, but to keep anyone else out. The space between their bodies was thin, electric, and charged.

She looked up at him, eyes wide.

She was so short.

Her head only came to his collarbones, and her body looked like it could be swallowed by one breath of his chest. But it wasn’t just her size that struck him it was her expression. Eyes like moonlight. Soft, searching, impossibly sincere.

Like she wasn’t born to be in a world like this.

“Little doe,” he murmured, just loud enough for her to hear, the nickname falling out unbidden, rough with something fond. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Jiyoon blinked, lips parted, voice caught somewhere between a protest and confusion.

Heeseung leaned in slightly, a teasing tilt to his mouth. “You think I wouldn’t notice?” His gaze dipped slowly, raking down the slope of her neck and back up to her lips. “I know your heartbeat now. I can hear it from across a room.”

“I wasn’t—” she started, but her voice cracked.

He smiled. God, he liked the way she stammered.

“So sensitive,” he whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek, fingertips ghosting against her skin. He saw the way her lashes fluttered at the contact. “You always tremble when I’m near.”

“I—” she tried again, but her breath hitched when his other hand slipped down the wall, close to her hip.

“Why?” he asked gently. “What are you so nervous about, little doe?”

Her hands those small, pretty hands lifted without thinking and grabbed fistfuls of his shirt like she needed to hold onto something, anything. And the moment she touched him, his restraint faltered.

Heeseung inhaled sharply through his nose.

Her scent.

Sweet. Cool. Endless.

It was crawling into every fiber of him, and his fangs ached. They ached with the need to sink into the space where her shoulder met her neck. He wanted to mark her. Claim her. Let the world see it and know.

But he wouldn’t. Not without her permission.

His voice lowered, gentle now. “I won’t bite you unless you ask.”

She blinked up at him, lips trembling slightly, her eyes shining too much for his sanity.

“I’m not avoiding you,” she whispered finally. “I’m just… nervous.”

He leaned closer. Close enough to brush his nose against hers. “Why?”

“Because I’ve never felt like this before,” she breathed. “Like something’s pulling me toward you. All the time. Even when I don’t want it to.”

His lips brushed her cheekbone as he spoke. “It’s because you’re mine.”

Her hands gripped his shirt tighter.

Heeseung pressed his forehead against hers. “Do you know what that means, Jiyoon-ah?”

A beat.

“Yes,” she whispered, voice so quiet it barely existed.

Another beat. Her fingers uncurled from his shirt. One hand rose to his chest right over his heart. “But you’re mine too.”

His heart stopped.

Then stuttered.

Then crashed in his chest like thunder.

A soft exhale left his lips before he gave the smallest nod, voice low and raw. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I am.”

The space between them disappeared then, not with a kiss, but a shared breath. The kind that cracked something wide open in both of them. Heeseung let his hand gently trace the curve of her jaw, and she didn’t flinch. Her breath came faster, but not from fear. Her lashes lifted, and her eyes didn’t run.

They held.

“I won’t push,” he said softly. “You set the pace, little doe. I just need you to know... I’ll never let anything touch you, ever.”

She looked like she might cry not from pain, but because no one had ever said anything like that before.

And Heeseung ruthless, sharp, cruel to everyone else felt something soften deep inside him.

She wasn’t scared of him.

She was scared of this.

Of being his.

And he was scared, too.

But not enough to walk away. Never that.

By the time she slipped back into her dorm, the music of the Red-Sig party still thumping through the floors in distant echoes, her head was spinning.

And it had nothing to do with alcohol.

She hadn’t even drunk anything. Not blood, not booze, not whatever that glowing punch was Seori had dared Da-eun to taste. No. Her dizziness came from something much more dangerous.

Lee Heeseung.

The way he looked at her like she was already his.

The way he said little doe, and her chest had squeezed so tightly she thought it might cave in.

The way his scent was still on her.

The dorm door slammed behind her, making her jump. Da-eun stomped in, tugging off her leather jacket and grumbling something under her breath about Ni-ki having a superiority complex the size of Seoul.

“Fucking twig,” Da-eun muttered, yanking off her boots one by one. “Thinks because he’s six foot something and glows in the dark that he can sass me?”

Jiyoon leaned against the door, silent.

“...Yoonie?” Da-eun blinked up at her. “You look like you got bitten.”

“I didn’t,” she said too quickly.

Da-eun squinted. “You look bitten.”

Jiyoon peeled off her own jacket and went straight for the mini fridge. She pulled out a blood pouch and held it to her forehead.

Da-eun flopped face-first onto her bed. “So what happened? Last I saw, Lee was dragging you into the night like some brooding drama protagonist.”

jiyoon hesitated. “He didn’t...It wasn’t like that.”

“Oh?” Da-eun popped her chin up over the edge of her blanket. “You don’t sound very not bitten.”

Jiyoon turned slowly, her back against the fridge, and finally whispered, “He called me his.”

The words filled the room like a spell. A pause.

Da-eun stared.

“You let him?” she asked slowly. “You felt it?”

She nodded silently. She didn’t even have to say it. The way her hands clutched the front of her shirt like she was still holding onto him said it all.

“I knew it,” Da-eun muttered, sitting up fully now. “I knew he looked at you weird that day I cussed out Ni-ki. Kija and Seori are going to freak.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Jiyoon said, flushing. “He just, he smells like home, and when he looks at me, it’s like he knows me. Like he’s always known me. And I...”

“—are halfway to being bonded,” Da-eun finished, lips twitching. “You're doomed.”

Jiyoon groaned and flopped onto her bed in a flash, blood pouch abandoned. “I didn’t ask for this.”

Da-eun grinned and laid beside her. “No one ever does.”

A beat passed, and Jiyoon whispered, “Is it a bad thing?”

“No,” Da-eun said simply. “But it is the real thing.”

From across the hall, the faint sound of laughter rang out, probably Sora and Seori bickering over something ridiculous again. The dorm building was alive tonight, and yet all she could feel was the echo of his voice in her head.

"You’re mine."

And worse the way she’d said he’s hers back.

She didn’t regret it.

But she didn’t understand the whole bond either.

Heeseung slammed the front door of the mansion so hard, the second floor chandelier swayed above their heads.

Again.

Jake didn’t even look up from his position sprawled across the couch, head tilted back over the armrest like he had no bones in his body. “That’s the third time this week,” he muttered.

Sunghoon was on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of the fireplace, lazily flipping a dagger between his fingers. “He's got the emotional range of a guillotine.”

“I'm not emotional,” Heeseung grumbled, stalking into the common room like he was preparing for battle.

Jay glanced up from the corner armchair, brows raised. “You're mated, and you haven't claimed her. If that’s not a tragedy, I don’t know what is.”

Jungwon didn't say anything. He didn’t need to. His faint smirk said it all as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall by the window.

“You should be happy for me,” Heeseung muttered, dragging a hand through his already messy hair. “I’m pacing myself.” The word was practically gritted out.

“You’re suffering,” Sunoo corrected, lounging across the back of the couch with the grace of a fox in human skin. “And it’s getting pathetic.”

“I’m not suffering,” Heeseung shot back.

“Really?” Jake barked a laugh. “Because you looked like you were going to explode when she talked with that warlock kid at the hall meeting two days ago.”

Heeseung’s eyes narrowed. “He touched her.”

“You literally scent marked her chair the next day at lunch,” Sunghoon said without looking up. “Don’t lie.”

Jay leaned forward, his tone deceptively calm. “Look, we all know you're not exactly Mr. Heartfelt. But this is your mate. What the hell are you waiting for?”

“She’s scared,” Heeseung finally admitted, teeth gritted. “She doesn’t know exactly what this is. I don’t want to force anything.”

For a second, the room was quiet. Then Jungwon spoke, voice low but approving. “Good. Now grow some balls and earn her trust.”

“Preach,” Sunoo said, tossing a piece of popcorn at him. “Besides, she’s not the only mystery lately. What about her friends?”

The others perked up.

Sunoo continued, grinning now. “The fae with the icy stare? Seori. I think she was ready to shiv [read: Stab] Jay on the dance floor.”

Jay blinked. “She glared at me?”

“You looked at her,” Sunghoon deadpanned. “That’s enough to start a war with the fae.”

“And what about the other one?” Jake asked. “The one with the voice like a song?”

“Kija,” Sunoo said. “Sirens don’t just go to parties. She looked like you cursed her entire bloodline,” he added, flicking his gaze toward Sunghoon.

Sunghoon stilled. “She was weird.”

“She was staring,” Sunoo corrected. “You think you messed her up just by breathing near her.”

“Not my fault,” Sunghoon muttered, but his thumb rubbed the edge of his blade slower now.

“And Ni-ki,” Heeseung said, turning toward the youngest. “What exactly were you doing checking out Da-eun?”

Ni-ki sat up straight, offended. “I wasn’t.”

“You were drooling,” Jake said, throwing a cushion at him.

“She’s infuriating,” Ni-ki snapped. “Every time I see her, I want to—”

“—kiss her?” Sunoo offered sweetly.

“—rip her throat out,” Ni-ki finished.

Jay rolled his eyes. “Same thing with you.”

Ni-ki flipped them off. “She’s a menace.”

“And yet,” Jungwon mused, tapping his fingers together, “you never leave the room when she enters.”

Ni-ki didn’t answer.

“Cute,” Sunghoon said flatly. “You all are so in denial.”

Heeseung cracked a smile for the first time since walking in. “Says the one who nearly walked into a pillar when that siren walked past him yesterday.”

Sunghoon scowled.

“Whatever,” Jay huffed. “We’re all just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I’m not,” Heeseung said simply. “She’s already mine. Even if I haven’t marked her.”

“You will though,” Jake said, watching him carefully.

“Yeah,” Heeseung replied, voice soft but certain. “But not until she’s ready. I want her to choose me.”

The room quieted again. This time, with a different kind of respect.

After a few seconds, Jay groaned, standing up to stretch. “If this ends with all of us getting whipped, I’m throwing myself off the library roof.”

“You say that like you wouldn’t build her the ladder,” Jungwon deadpanned.

“I hate all of you,” Jay muttered, walking off.

Heeseung leaned back on the couch now, the first flicker of contentment curling in his chest.

Soon.

She’d be his fully.

And maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t be the only one falling.

The debate elective was intended to foster unity among supernatural students.

That was the intent.

The result? Chaos barely contained in uniforms and sarcasm.

The long hall was designed like a courtroom. Tiered seating framed a central discussion floor where students could throw words like daggers, formal, elegant, and often brutal.

No one expected the Seven to show up.

“They have people to argue for them,” someone whispered from the rafters.

“Yeah, or they just kill the opposition,” another muttered fully serious.

But here they were.

All seven.

Lee Heeseung in all his dark glory, seated like a bored king with a pen spinning between his fingers. Jake, smirking lazily. Jay, perfectly composed, suit crisp like he slept in starch. Jungwon with arms folded, already judging everyone. Sunghoon practically melting into his seat with apathy. Ni-ki staring at the board like he was already counting the seconds until he could leave. And Sunoo, perched forward with that gleam in his eye like he knew something no one else did.

Then…the four girls walked in.

Leather jackets.

Matching confidence.

Heeseung’s pen clattered to the floor.

They weren’t even trying.

Jiyoon took her place with a slow inhale, her eyes scanning the front rows and brushing, just briefly, over Heeseung’s.

Kija’s smirk was already forming. The siren knew how to make an entrance. Her lips painted crimson, her shirt cropped just enough to piss off every dress code in existence.

Seori’s steps were light but determined, the fae glowing faintly under the indoor lights. She didn’t look at anyone. She didn’t need to.

Da-eun was practically vibrating with silent rage as her eyes flicked toward Ni-ki. She looked like she was preparing to burn down the whole building just to avoid sitting near him.

They sat together, deliberately across from the Seven.

The match was set.

The professor, an old warlock who clearly had no idea what he’d signed up for, looked around with hopeful confusion. “Right. Our topic today: Should certain species be required to register their abilities under the Supernatural Regulation Council?”

The entire room tensed.

“Wonderful,” Jiyoon muttered under her breath.

Jay stood up, formal as ever. “The Seven are in agreement. Registration allows peace. Order. Transparency.”

Seori snorted. “You mean control.”

Jay’s eyes slid to her. “You’d know about control, wouldn’t you, Fae?”

Seori stood, voice like honey over knives. “Better than you. At least we don’t use our power to build thrones on the backs of lesser blood.”

Oof.

The class collectively winced.

Jay’s jaw ticked. “Order is not tyranny.”

“And blind submission is not peace,” she returned, unapologetic.

Sunoo smirked. “This is getting fun.”

Kija stood slowly, stretching like a cat. “You’re all so obsessed with hierarchy, but I’ve seen toddlers behave with more self-control.”

“I’m sorry,” Sunghoon drawled from his seat, “were you even invited to speak?”

Kija’s lips curled. “No, but your eyes were already begging me to.”

“Ooh,” Jake whistled.

Sunghoon looked away like she hadn’t even spoken, but the red tint creeping up his ears betrayed him.

Ni-ki leaned forward, eyes locked on Da-eun. “You got something to say, or are you just here for moral support?”

Da-eun narrowed her eyes. “You think you’re a challenge?”

“I think I make you nervous.”

She scoffed. “You wish.”

Ni-ki smirked. “You haven’t stopped looking at me since you walked in.”

“I was planning your funeral.”

“Romantic.”

A few students in the back snorted, quickly covering their mouths. No one dared laugh too loud.

And then Jiyoon stood.

Heeseung looked up immediately.

She didn’t look at him. Not yet.

She folded her arms across her chest, the blood bag from earlier still tucked in her coat pocket, half full and forgotten.

“Funny thing about power,” she said. “It only feels dangerous when it’s not yours.”

The room stilled.

Heeseung’s pen was forgotten on the desk.

Jiyoon turned her eyes to the Seven slowly. “You talk about order, control, and peace, but what you really mean is fear. You’ve ruled this school with it. Now we’re supposed to smile and nod when you say trust us?” She tilted her head. “Why should anyone believe that?”

Heeseung leaned forward.

“Because,” he said, voice low and sharp, “if we wanted chaos, you’d already be bleeding.”

The room froze.

But she didn’t even flinch. She turned to look at him, finally meeting those fire drenched eyes.

“Well, maybe you’re not the only one who can make people bleed, Lee Heeseung.”

The silence was absolute.

And then, the professor cleared his throat shakily. “I...believe we’ve had enough healthy discourse for today.”

Too late.

The room was on fire, metaphorically.

Da-eun grinned like a demon. Kija looked like she was about to clap. Seori raised her eyebrows at Jiyoon, impressed.

Heeseung?

He just smiled, slow and wide. “Little doe’s got teeth.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Why are we doing this again?” Jay whispered, crouched way too low for a full grown vampire in all-black slacks.

“Because,” Sunoo hissed, “you’re all emotionally stunted, and this is the only way you’re gonna understand the female brain.”

“We’re vampires,” Ni-ki muttered. “I think we skipped that elective.”

They were huddled behind the hedge wall outside the back terrace of Dorm 4B aka the girls’ lair.

All seven of them.

The elite.

The feared.

The unshakable.

Now crouching like idiots behind magically enchanted roses because Sunoo heard the girls laughing and wanted answers.

Jake looked absolutely amused.

Sunghoon looked like he’d rather be dead.

Jungwon was pretending not to be interested.

And Heeseung…well, he hadn’t said a word.

Not since he realized Jiyoon was talking.

He recognized her voice anywhere.

“…I’m just saying,” came Da-eun’s voice, dry and cutting as always, “if we’re going to keep putting up with the Seven thinking they own the school, we should at least start messing with them.”

“Agreed,” said Kija, not missing a beat. “Seori, you should make them think a shifter clan moved into their mansion. I want to see them lose their perfect little minds.”

“Only if you do your part,” Seori replied coolly. “Next time Jungwon calls a council meeting, you should use your creepy voice thing and tell the dean he’s resigning and opening a cupcake café in the woods.”

Jake nearly snorted.

Sunghoon clutched his chest like he’d been stabbed. “She’s a menace,” he whispered.

“She’s my menace,” came Kija’s voice from the other side of the hedge. Her magic working as if she were right next to them.

Sunghoon turned purple. Kija knew they were there but hadn't told the others.

“Wait, wait,” Jiyoon giggled softly, “can we just take a second to acknowledge that Kija’s new ability means she can steal people’s voices? Like—screw siren stuff. That’s just rude.”

“I’m a trendsetter,” Kija said proudly.

“I still think we should use mine,” Da-eun said with way too much glee. “I could just sonic pulse the east wing of the mansion and be done. That’ll teach Ni-ki for staring at me like I’ve committed crimes against his bloodline.”

“You have,” Ni-ki muttered under his breath. “By existing.”

Jake bit his knuckle to stop from laughing.

Heeseung was laser focused. Jiyoon wasn’t joking…but she wasn’t serious, either. Her tone was mischievous. Teasing.

Gods, he liked her.

“And what about you, Jiyoonie?” Seori asked.

“Oh, please, her power’s the scariest,” Da-eun said quickly. “She can feel what people feel… and she can change it.”

Heeseung froze.

Jay’s eyes widened.

Jungwon finally looked intrigued.

“She doesn’t use it though,” Seori added, nudging her gently. “She’s not like the rest of us.”

“I will if I have to,” Jiyoon replied, softer now. “But no…I don’t like taking people’s choices from them. It’s not fair.”

Heeseung’s chest tightened.

She could have manipulated him.

She didn’t.

She never would.

That alone said more than any bond ever could.

“Anyway,” she said with a small laugh, “if they try anything, I’ll just hit Heeseung with a wave of anxiety and see what happens.”

Heeseung blinked.

“She wouldn’t,” Sunoo whispered.

“She would,” Ni-ki confirmed.

“I think I’m in love,” Heeseung muttered under his breath.

“Gross,” Jay said, shoving his shoulder.

“Disgusting,” Jungwon added flatly.

But none of them moved.

They stayed crouched like idiots behind that rose wall, listening to the girls joke, tease, and bond over ways they could hypothetically obliterate the Seven.

They were brilliant.

They were dangerous.

And gods help them all. They actually liked them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Heeseung wasn’t a jealous man.

That was what he told himself. That was what everyone assumed. He didn’t get jealous, he got even.

But now? Standing on the edge of the east quad, fangs clenched, fists balled, a dangerous hum vibrating under his skin like electricity in a wire.

Jealousy didn’t begin to cover it.

Because his mate, his mate was standing a few feet away, being spoken to by a damn shifter.

And not just any shifter. A wolf.

Low-tier. Arrogant. Bark bigger than his bite. Heeseung had already clocked his name Jae-ryun or Jaewoo or something equally forgettable. The idiot was smirking at his little doe, leaning on the brick column like he had a right to stand near her, like he wasn’t trying to mask the scent of pure testosterone fueled flirting.

Heeseung’s upper lip curled.

“Are you gonna go over there, or just spontaneously combust from twenty yards away?” Sunghoon asked dryly, arms crossed beside him.

“Let him combust,” Jungwon said without looking up from his phone. “Maybe he’ll take the wolf with him.”

Jiyoon, for her part, wasn’t even amused. He could see it clearly from here. The roll of her eyes, the way she tried to step around the guy.

But he kept stepping in front of her. He wasn’t touching her, but that didn’t matter. He was trying.

And that’s all it took.

One second, Heeseung was standing between his brothers. The next, he was gone.

The wind cracked as his body blurred forward, and the campus quad fell silent just as his fist collided with the wolf’s stomach.

The sound was sickening. Flesh meeting bone. Breath leaving lungs.

Then a crash, as the shifter flew backward with the force of a car wreck, slamming into the side of a stone building with a crunch. Sunghoon, and Jungwon were snickering before they walked away calmly.

Jiyoon gasped frantically looking up at the pissed off vampire.

But Heeseung didn’t even flinch. His red eyes flicked down to her. “Mine.”

It was all he said before he scooped her up into his arms with a speed and certainty that stole her breath. One second she was standing. The next, her face was pressed to the broad, warm chest of a vampire moving faster than light.

The world blurred.

His room.

Dark, opulent, still filled with the aftershocks of his rage.

He didn’t put her down. Not at first. His arms remained tight around her, breath coming in short inhales against the crown of her head. He moved like a man who’d just won a war and couldn’t stop shaking.

Only when she whispered his name did he pull back enough to look at her.

She was flushed. Wide eyed. But not afraid. Not even close.

“Mine,” he said again, lower now, hoarser. “Mine, Jiyoon. Do you understand me?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “He doesn’t get to look at you like that. No one does. No one gets to talk to you like they’ve got a shot. You’re—”

He swallowed hard, nose brushing her cheek. “You’re everything. And if I have to break every creature on this campus to make sure they know it, I will.”

Her breath shuddered. “Heeseung…”

“I mean it,” he growled, voice low and dark, “I’ll burn the world down if someone thinks they can have what’s mine.”

She reached up, sliding her fingers through the back of his hair. Her touch, her scent rain and ink, it soothed him and ruined him all at once.

“And what if I want to be yours?” she whispered.

Heeseung’s eyes snapped open, red and shimmering.

He didn’t speak.

He just crashed into her, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that felt like every storm he’d ever held back. It was deep, hungry, heated, possessive in every way a vampire could be. Her hands gripped his shirt. His arms kept her pinned to him, body to body, need for need.

When he finally pulled away, breathless and trembling with restraint, he said one thing against her lips, “Say it.”

She swallowed, lips bruised and eyes burning. “I’m yours.”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched, fangs dropping so fast he had to yank his head back before he did something reckless.

But his voice it cracked as he said, “Damn right you are.”

And this time, when she kissed him, he let it be slow. A claim without claws. A promise wrapped in silk.

They weren’t just bound.

They belonged.

The room was still.

Too still.

Heeseung’s back was against the headboard now, his girl straddling his lap, her hands pressed to his chest like she wasn’t sure if she should stay or run. But she didn’t move. She couldn’t. The bond thrummed between them like a wildfire threading through the air, calling her closer.

And gods his gums ached.

His fangs throbbed in his mouth with the need to drop, to sink into the soft curve of her throat and leave a mark no one would ever dare question. His hands trembled where they rested on her hips, barely holding her, barely breathing.

His mate.

His.

And yet he hadn’t claimed her. Not truly.

Because she was small. And delicate. And even now, she felt fragile in his hold. His little doe.

But Jiyoon…She wasn’t afraid.

She looked up at him through her lashes, lips bitten pink, her fingers sliding along the curve of his neck, up into his hair.

Her voice was soft but steady. “Mate me, Heeseung.”

His eyes flared red.

“Bab—” he started, but she leaned forward until their noses brushed.

“I know what I’m asking.” Her breath ghosted over his lips. “And I’m sure.”

His restraint shattered.

The second her words settled in his chest, the vampire inside him, ancient, patient, and utterly possessive snapped its leash.

He flipped her, gentle but fast, laying her on the mattress as he hovered over her, eyes roaming every inch of her face, her throat, her body. Her scent was already woven into his veins, but now it was stronger, sweeter, tinged with anticipation and something wild.

“Mine,” he whispered, voice hoarse with hunger.

She reached up to him, arms looping around his shoulders, dragging him down until his body pressed flush to hers. Her legs parted for him easily, and he slid between them like he belonged there, because he did.

He kissed her again, slower this time, like worship. He kissed her like he was learning every corner of her soul through her lips. Her fingers clawed at his shirt, his chest, her need just as wild as his.

He kissed down her jaw, her neck, his tongue flicking over the curve where he’d soon bite. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he murmured.

“You won’t,” she whispered, breathless. “I want all of you.”

His growl was soft but guttural, his lips curling against her skin. He slid her shirt over her head, baring her to the moonlight spilling in through the window. And gods, she was beautiful, so damn beautiful he forgot what breathing was. He kissed down her chest, tracing every curve with his mouth, his hands, his tongue. She arched beneath him, breath catching, soft gasps falling from her lips as he worshiped her like the goddess she was.

And when he came back up, their eyes met and the need hit like lightning.

They were no longer teasing the idea. They were lost in it. Drowning in it.

With a single motion, she bared her neck to him.

Heeseung’s fangs dropped.

“Last chance,” he rasped, voice raw. “Once I do this, you’re mine forever.”

Jiyoon smiled sweetly, a little shaky but certain, “I already am.”

And with that he bit down.

Her gasp was soft, almost startled but it melted into something deeper, something needy, as the bond roared to life. He drank just enough to seal it, then sealed the mark with his tongue, licking over the wound as she trembled beneath him.

Then her turn.

She flipped him, straddling him now as he laid back, chest heaving. His eyes were wide, glowing, dazed. And when she leaned down and bit his throat, deep and sharp, his entire body jerked.

It was rare unheard of for a male vampire to allow it. But Heeseung had never cared about tradition.

He wanted her to own him, too.

And when the bite took, a white hot shock burst through both of them, snapping the final tether of hesitation between their souls.

They mated, bodies moving like fire and wind, all clawing hands and soft moans and gasping kisses. Heeseung held her like he was trying to become part of her. And she gladly took every inch of him, not just his body but his heart, his soul, his eternity.

It wasn’t just physical.

It was everything.

When they came down, breathless and trembling in each other’s arms, the room still shimmered with the pulse of magic.

Marked. Mated. Whole.

Heeseung brushed his knuckles over her cheek, lips parting to say something, but she beat him to it, murmuring sleepily against his chest.

“You’re mine.”

And his answering smile was feral. And full of peace.

The Moonfall Ball was the highlight of the supernatural academy’s year.

Held beneath the silver dome of the enchanted atrium, the sky above shimmered with stars, clouds swirling lazily across a bewitched ceiling. Soft snowflakes fell and vanished just before they touched the ground, and the floating lanterns cast everything in a warm glow.

It was beautiful. Magical.

And an absolute shit show if you were one of the Seven.

Heeseung had been trying to make Jiyoon let go of his hand for ten minutes. She wouldn’t. He wouldn’t either.

They were glued to each other.

“I think they fused at the soul,” Jay muttered as he eyed them from across the punch table.

“They did,” Sunoo replied dryly, ladling more crimson liquid into his glass. “It’s called mating, genius.”

“I give it twenty more minutes before Heeseung starts growling at anyone who breathes near her,” Jake said, adjusting his cufflinks.

“Growling?” Sunghoon scoffed. “He already made a server cry just for asking if she wanted more cake.”

“She didn’t want more cake,” Heeseung said flatly, pulling the girl a little closer.

“I wanted more cake,” she muttered with a teasing smile, lifting her glass of berry cider. “You scared him off.”

“Good,” he said, brushing a kiss behind her ear. “He was looking at you.”

“Hyung,” Jungwon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re going to end up banned from every public event.”

From across the room, the three girls Kija, Seori, and Da-eun watched this with expressions ranging from stunned to deeply unimpressed.

“She really let him bite her?” Kija whispered. She seemed annoyed but really she was happy her friend was happy.

“Mate her,” Seori corrected.

“Same thing. I’m still gagged,” Da-eun said, arms crossed.

But despite their reactions, all three were genuinely happy for their friend. Jiyoon was glowing. Soft, radiant, and calm even as Heeseung hovered like she was made of glass and sin.

Still, that didn’t stop the trio from glaring daggers at the rest of the Seven if they looked too long.

Jay glanced at Seori, met her sharp eyes, and instantly looked away like he’d touched fire. Sunghoon caught Kija’s gaze for half a second and nearly choked on his drink.

Ni-ki?

He was already in a full-blown argument with Da-eun over the best combat spell structure...again.

“—it’s clearly more efficient to disarm with a direct pulse!” Da-eun snapped.

“Only if you’re reckless,” Ni-ki retorted. “Which you are.”

“I’ll show you reckless—!”

“Oh my god,” Seori muttered, looking exhausted.

And that’s when Jiyoon's eyes flashed blue.

A shimmer of calm rippled through the space, a soft wave of magic that settled the tension in the air. Both Ni-ki and Da-eun went silent, blinking in confusion before slowly backing away from each other like nothing had happened.

The rest of the group? Died laughing.

“You did not just use your powers on them,” Sunoo cackled, nearly spilling his drink.

“I did,” Jiyoon said sweetly. “And I’ll do it again.”

“You’re evil,” Jungwon muttered through a grin. “I respect it.”

Jake leaned into Heeseung. “You’re screwed, hyung. She’s the boss now.”

“I’ve always been the boss,” She chimed in playfully, smirking.

Heeseung just looked down at her with those midnight eyes, something feral and tender rising beneath them.

His hand came up, brushing a knuckle along her jaw as he tilted her chin toward him. “You mine,” he said quietly, voice thick with warmth and want.

She smiled back, tugging him by his tie as the music swelled around them.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “Don’t I know it.” She pulled him closer, nose brushing his, “You’re mine too.”

And as the stars shifted overhead and the laughter of newfound love and chaos echoed through the glowing ballroom…