ooki

Geum Seongje was known throughout the Yeongdeungpo district as an absolute psychopath.

Anyone involved in the gang world, the Union, or street fights knew that crossing Seongje's path was a guaranteed sentence of pain. He was a violent, sadistic guy who enjoyed the sound of bones breaking and always wore a twisted smile on his face while tearing apart the people he hated.

He had no patience, no empathy, and he definitely wasn't the kind of person anyone would describe as "fluffy."

However, behind the door of her small apartment, all that reputation completely vanished.

It was Sunday afternoon. The weather outside was horrible. Heavy rain was pounding against the apartment windows, making the sky look gray and dark even though it was barely three in the afternoon.

The girl was sitting on the floor of her living room, surrounded by textbooks, open notebooks, colored highlighters, and two empty coffee cups.

She had final exams coming up and she was so stressed she felt like her brain was going to explode at any moment. She'd been reading the same paragraph about contemporary history for hours without understanding a single thing.

Suddenly, the apartment's front door opened with the sound of the electronic lock. She didn't flinch. There was only one person in the world, besides her, who had the passcode.

Seongje walked into the apartment. He was wearing his typical orange jacket, his hair was a little damp from the rain, and his expression was one of pure annoyance. He closed the door with a little more force than necessary and kicked off his shoes at the entrance, leaving them tossed aside.

"I hate the rain. I hate people who don't know how to drive in the rain. And I hate this damn Sunday," Seongje announced loudly, walking toward the living room as he took off his wet jacket and threw it over a chair.

The girl looked up from her books and looked at him. Even though he was complaining in that deep, raspy voice that scared thugs, she thought he looked like a big, grumpy cat who'd gotten his paws wet.

"Hi to you too, Seongje," she replied with a small, tired smile.

Seongje stopped dead when he saw her sitting on the floor. He frowned, crossing his arms as he looked at the disaster of papers and books surrounding her.

"What are you doing on the floor? You're going to freeze," he scolded her, walking toward her.

"I'm studying. I have three exams this week and I feel like I don't know anything," she sighed, rubbing her eyes in frustration. "How did your Union meeting go?"

"Boring. A bunch of idiots. I left early because my head hurt from listening to them," Seongje dropped onto the sofa, right behind where she was sitting on the floor. He stretched out his long legs, brushing the girl's back with his knees. "Put those garbage books down. Come here."

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head without looking away from her notebook.

"I can't. I really have to memorize these dates or I'm going to fail history. Give me a couple more hours, okay?"

That wasn't the answer Seongje wanted to hear. He'd crossed half the city in the rain, putting up with traffic and his own bad mood, just to see her.

He wanted attention.

He wanted to hug her.

And he definitely wasn't going to accept that a stupid history book was more important than him.

But Seongje knew that if he forcefully took the books away or yelled at her, she'd get mad at him. And even though he didn't care about making the rest of the world angry, he hated when she stopped talking to him.

So he decided to use another tactic: being the most annoying and irresistible distraction on the planet.

Seongje slid off the sofa until he was sitting on the floor, right behind her. He opened his legs so she was trapped between them, and pressed his chest against the girl's back.

She tensed a little in surprise, but then relaxed at the warmth of Seongje's body. He was always so warm.

"Seongje..." she murmured as a warning, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.

"What?" he replied with feigned innocence.

He wrapped his two big arms around her waist, hugging her tightly, and rested his chin on the girl's right shoulder. His breath hit directly against her neck, and his hair tickled her cheek.

She tried to keep reading the page of her book, but Seongje started leaving very soft little kisses on the edge of her neck and jaw. They weren't lustful or aggressive kisses. They were slow, lazy, almost tender kisses.

The kind of kisses he specifically used to make her lose all concentration.

"Seongje, I'm serious," she said, though her voice sounded a little shaky, trying not to close her eyes at the pleasure of his caresses.

"I'm serious too," he murmured against her skin, giving a harmless little bite on her shoulder through the fabric of her shirt. "It's Sunday. It's raining outside. We should be in bed, sleeping. Or watching a movie. Or doing anything that doesn't involve you staring at a piece of old paper."

"If I fail, they're going to take away my scholarship."

"If they take away your scholarship, I'll pay for your school. I've got plenty of money," Seongje replied with total naturalness, as if he were talking about buying a soda at the store.

She rolled her eyes and gave him a little elbow jab in the ribs.

"I'm not going to let you use dirty Union money to pay for my education. Besides, I want to do it myself."

Seongje snorted, giving up. He knew she was stubborn. Very stubborn.

It was one of the things he liked most about her, the fact that she wasn't afraid of him and didn't give in just because he was intimidating.

"Fine. You're very stubborn, you know that?" Seongje stopped kissing her neck, but didn't let her go. Instead, he reached out and took the history book she was trying to read. "Let's see, what are you supposed to be studying?"

She blinked, surprised that he hadn't kept insisting she stop studying. "Contemporary history. International treaties and important dates. It's super boring."

Seongje looked at the pages full of text, small print, and dates. He made a disgusted face. He wasn't a school guy. He hated studying.

For him, the only things that mattered in life were solved with force or money. But seeing her so overwhelmed caused a little pinch of discomfort in his chest.

"This is garbage," Seongje declared, slamming the book shut.

"Hey! I was in the middle of a chapter!" she complained, trying to take the book from him.

Seongje lifted the book in the air, out of her reach, and with his other hand held her by the waist so she couldn't get up.

"I'm going to help you," Seongje said with total seriousness.

She looked at him with wide eyes, unable to believe what she'd just heard. "You? Geum Seongje, the guy who hasn't set foot in a classroom in three weeks, is going to help me study history?"

"Don't underestimate me, gorgeous," he replied with an arrogant smile, the one he always used before a fight, but this time softened just for her. "I can read perfectly fine. I'm going to ask you questions. If you answer right, you get a prize. If you answer wrong... you get punished."

The deep, playful tone with which he said the last sentence made her blush.

"You can't do that to me, I have to actually learn this," she laughed, feeling the stress start to fade from her body just from talking to him.

"Rule number one: I make the rules in this house," Seongje opened the book to a random page, squinting to focus on the text. "Let's see. Question number one. What year was this stupid treaty they're talking about signed?"

She concentrated for a moment, remembering her notes.

"1945?"

Seongje looked at the page. Then at her. He nodded slowly. "Correct. You're a smart girl."

Seongje leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. It was a chaste kiss, just a brush of lips, but it was enough to make her smile widely.

"That's your prize," he said, looking back at the book. "Next question. Who was the president who ruined the economy during this period?"

The "game" continued for almost an hour. It was, without a doubt, the strangest and least productive study session she'd ever had in her life. Seongje read the questions in a serious voice, insulting the historical figures every time he read something he thought was stupid.

"This guy was a coward..." Seongje commented, pointing at a politician's photo in the book. "If I'd been there, I would've broken his jaw for signing such a bad deal."

She couldn't stop laughing. Seeing him criticize World War II decisions as if they were gang fights was way too funny.

When she got an answer wrong, Seongje's "punishment" consisted of tickling her until she begged for mercy, or gently biting her neck until he left small red marks. By the time they finished the chapter, she wasn't sure she'd learned much more history, but she definitely wasn't stressed anymore.

Seongje threw the book to the other side of the room. It hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Study time is over," Seongje decreed, rubbing the back of his neck. "My brain hurts from reading so much garbage. I need food. And so do you. You're too skinny, it feels like I'll break your ribs if I hug you too tight."

"I'm not skinny, you're the one with too many muscles," she defended herself, pushing him gently. "Do you want to order fried chicken?"

Seongje shook his head and got up from the floor with an agile movement. He offered her a hand to help her up. When she took it, he pulled her up so easily she almost crashed into his chest.

"Fried chicken's going to take like an hour to get here in this rain. I'll cook something," Seongje said, walking toward the apartment's small kitchen.

The girl stood in the middle of the living room, blinking a couple of times, making sure she'd heard right.

"You're going to cook?" she asked, following him to the kitchen, looking at him with obvious distrust. "Seongje, last time you tried to cook, you burned the rice and ruined the pot Mom gave me for my birthday."

Seongje stopped in front of the fridge, opening it and looking inside with a frown.

"That was an accident. Someone called me and I got distracted," he excused himself, pulling out a pack of instant noodles, a couple of eggs, some green onions, and some sausages. "Today I'm making ramen. Even an idiot can make ramen. And I'm a genius."

She leaned against the kitchen doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest, watching him with a huge smile. She loved seeing this side of Geum Seongje.

No one in the world knew he could be like this. To the Union, he was a psychopath who loved making others suffer. To her, he was a guy who frowned because he couldn't figure out how to turn on the electric stove on the first try.

Seongje took off the rings he always wore on his fingers and left them on the table. Then he washed his hands. His posture was stiff, as if he were about to defuse a bomb instead of cooking noodles.

He picked up a knife and started cutting the green onions. His movements were quick and somewhat brusque. He cut the vegetable with such force that she was afraid he'd cut the cutting board in half.

"Seongje, you don't have to squeeze the onion, just cut it," she joked.

He glanced at her sideways with a lopsided smile. "I'm making sure it's perfect for you. Go sit down. You're in the way in my kitchen."

She let out a little laugh and did as she was told. She went to the living room, picked up all her books from the floor, and stacked them neatly on the desk. The rain kept pouring against the window, but the apartment felt warm.

About fifteen minutes later, Seongje came out of the kitchen carrying two steaming bowls. He'd made the ramen, added egg, chopped green onions, and grilled sausages. It smelled surprisingly good.

He set the bowls on the small coffee table in the living room and sat on the sofa. He gestured with his hand for her to sit next to him.

She sat down, took her chopsticks, and tried the broth. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Wow! Seongje, this is actually really good," she said, looking at him with sincere admiration.

Seongje puffed his chest out a little, clearly proud of himself, though he tried to keep his tough-guy expression.

"I told you I'm a genius. Everything I do, I do well," he replied, starting to eat his own bowl hungrily.

They ate in comfortable silence, accompanied by the sound of the rain outside. When they finished, Seongje didn't let her pick up the bowls. He took them himself and left them in the kitchen sink, saying he'd wash them later.

When he came back to the living room, he turned off the main ceiling light, leaving only the dim light from a small floor lamp in the corner. The atmosphere immediately became cozier.

Seongje lay down lengthwise on the three-seater sofa. He was so tall his feet stuck out a little over the edge, but he didn't seem to care. He raised one arm and looked at her.

"Come here," he ordered in a soft voice.

She didn't hesitate for a second. She walked to the sofa and lay down next to him. Seongje immediately wrapped his arms around her, adjusting her so her head rested on his chest, right over his heart. She bent her legs to fit in the space and rested one arm on the guy's stomach.

Seongje let out a long sigh, a sound that came from deep in his chest, as if he could finally relax after a whole week of stress. He closed his eyes and rested his cheek against her head.

The beat of Seongje's heart was strong and steady under the girl's ear. It was a sound that brought her so much peace.

"I like when it rains and we're inside like this," she whispered, breaking the silence, tracing imaginary circles on Seongje's black t-shirt with her index finger.

"I don't like the rain. I like you," he replied, with his typical honesty, without opening his eyes. His big hand, resting on her back, began to stroke her hair, tangling his fingers in the girl's strands with slow movements.

She smiled against his chest. She knew Seongje wasn't the type to recite poems or romantic movie lines. His way of showing love was direct and sometimes a little rough, but it was real.

Very real.

"Are you tired?" she asked in a soft voice.

"A little," he admitted.

That was rare. Geum Seongje almost never admitted weakness in front of anyone. But she wasn't "anyone."

"Lately there have been a lot of idiots from other schools trying to get into my territory. I've had to beat them up almost every day so they understand who's in charge. It's exhausting having to be around so much trash all the time."

She lifted her head a little to look at him. Seongje's face, lit by the dim lamplight, looked different. He didn't have that angry expression or that sadistic smile.

He looked calm, like a young man, and for the first time, he looked vulnerable. He had small dark circles under his eyes and a small healing cut near his eyebrow.

She raised her hand and, with the pad of her thumb, gently stroked the small cut on his eyebrow.

Seongje opened his eyes at her touch. His deep, dark eyes met hers. He didn't look away.

"I don't like you fighting every day," she whispered, genuine concern in her voice. "I know you're strong, Seongje, but I'm scared that one day you'll get seriously hurt. I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

Seongje looked at her in silence for a few seconds. Seeing the concern in her eyes, knowing that someone in the world actually cared about his well-being and not his power, was a strange but addictive feeling for him.

He caught the hand she had on his face, interlacing his fingers with hers. He brought the back of the girl's hand to his lips and left a slow, soft kiss there.

"No one's going to hurt me, gorgeous. I promise," he said in a firm, confident voice. "And if someone tries, I'll make sure they never walk again. You don't have to worry about me. I'm the monster in this story, remember? Monsters don't lose."

She frowned slightly, not very convinced by that logic, but she knew arguing with him about his lifestyle was useless at that moment.

"To me, you're not a monster," she said, resting her head back on his chest, closing her eyes.

Seongje felt his heart skip a beat in his chest at hearing that. He tightened his grip around her, pulling her even closer to his body, as if afraid she'd disappear if he let go.

"You're too good for me," Seongje murmured, almost to himself, burying his face in her hair, breathing in her sweet shampoo scent. "You could have any stupid guy from your school. Someone who helps you study, someone whose hands aren't stained with blood, someone who isn't a disaster like me."

It was the first time Seongje had said something like that. It was his deepest insecurity coming to light in the darkness of the apartment. Despite all his power and arrogance on the streets, when he was with her, he always felt like he wasn't enough, like his world would end up tainting the light she radiated.

She lifted her head immediately. She looked at him with a serious, determined expression.

"I don't want any stupid guy from my school, Geum Seongje," she said firmly, looking directly into his eyes. "I want you. With your Union problems, with your bad mood when it rains, with your terrible way of helping me study history, and with your delicious ramen. I want you, and I'm not trading you for anyone."

Seongje was speechless. The sincerity in the girl's voice completely disarmed him. All the defenses, all the walls he'd built over the years to protect himself from the world's cruelty, crumbled in a second in front of her.

A smile, this time a genuine and soft smile, formed on Seongje's lips.

He didn't say anything more. There was no need. He put a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in to kiss her. It was a deep, slow kiss. A kiss where Seongje gave her everything he was, without hiding.

When they pulled apart for air, both had ragged breaths and wet lips. Seongje hugged her tightly against him.

"You better mean that, because I wouldn't let you go anyway. You're mine," he whispered in her ear, returning to his usual possessive tone, but this time with that affectionate touch that didn't always come out of him.

"I know," she smiled against his chest, settling better on the sofa.

The sound of the rain continued pounding against the window, but inside the apartment, everything was peace. Seongje closed his eyes, feeling the comforting weight of the girl on him.

Everyone in that institute knew exactly who Ahn Suho was. It was an unwritten rule, basic knowledge you picked up on your very first day of classes.

Suho was the guy you did not mess with. He was the best fighter in the whole place, the kid who could take down five bullies at once without even breaking a sweat, and the one who spent most of his classes asleep at his desk.

His reputation preceded him, full of stories about how he had taken down entire gangs from other schools with a smile on his face and a yawn.

But there was another rule, one even more important and much stricter than not waking Suho up when he was sleeping. That rule was very simple: no one, under any circumstances, was to look at, talk too much about, or flirt with his girlfriend.

She and Suho were what all the students called the school's "It couple." Ever since they had started dating almost a year ago, their relationship had become the center of everyone's attention.

They were the perfect balance. He was the strong, feared, and loud guy when he was awake, and she was the quiet, smart, sweet girl who always had a smile for everyone else.

The dynamic between them was something everyone watched with a mix of envy and admiration. Suho treated her like she was the greatest and most valuable treasure on planet Earth. He always waited for her at the school gate every day, carried her backpack no matter how heavy it was, bought her favorite strawberry milk during breaks, and always had an arm draped over her shoulders when they walked through the hallways.

If she was nearby, Suho's bored, tired look completely disappeared and was replaced by soft eyes full of love.

He was a giant guard dog who only wagged his tail for her.

Of course, because of this, no guy in the entire school dared to approach her with romantic intentions. Everyone knew that if someone tried to flirt with her, Suho would find out in less than five minutes and the consequences would be painful and very humiliating.

The guys treated her with great respect, greeted her from a distance, and avoided making prolonged eye contact. She knew her boyfriend was intimidating, but she didn't mind. She loved Suho just the way he was, even if he got straight F's in math.

Her life at school was peaceful and predictable. Until a new student arrived.

It was a Tuesday morning, classes had started as usual. The math teacher walked into the classroom, tapped the blackboard with his wooden ruler to ask for silence, and announced that they had a new transfer student from a school in the southern part of the city.

The new kid walked into the classroom with slow but confident steps. His name was Kangdae. He was tall, had dark hair slicked back with a lot of gel, wore his uniform unbuttoned at the top, and had an arrogant smile on his face.

He walked like he owned the world. At his old school, Kangdae had been the popular guy, the heartbreaker who could get any girl he wanted, and he clearly thought things would be exactly the same here.

Kangdae introduced himself in front of the class with a strong, confident voice. As he spoke, his eyes scanned the students' desks. And then, he saw her.

She was sitting in the third row, near the window, taking notes in her notebook with deep concentration. Kangdae felt his heart skip a little beat.

She seemed like the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She had shiny hair, fair skin, and such a focused expression that Kangdae found it very attractive.

Right at that moment, Kangdae decided she was going to be his new target. He always got what he wanted, and he was sure she wouldn't be the exception.

What Kangdae didn't notice, because he was too busy looking at her, was the guy sitting in the back row. Ahn Suho was asleep, his head resting on his arms on the desk, completely unaware of the new student's introduction.

The teacher pointed for Kangdae to take a seat in one of the empty spots near the front. Kangdae obeyed, but he didn't stop looking at the girl by the window for the entire class period.

When the bell rang for recess, students started getting up from their seats to head to the cafeteria. Suho was still fast asleep. She put her pens in her pencil case, closed her notebook, and got up from her chair.

She knew Suho was very tired because he had been working his part-time job the night before, so she decided to let him sleep a little longer and go buy some snacks for both of them by herself.

She left the classroom and walked down the hallway. There were a lot of people, but she walked calmly. However, she didn't realize that some footsteps were following closely behind her.

Kangdae had seen the perfect opportunity. The pretty girl was alone, walking toward the lockers. He quickened his pace, approached her, and stepped in front of her, resting one hand on the metal lockers to block her path.

She stopped, surprised, and took a small step back. She looked up and saw the new guy, Kangdae.

"Hey," Kangdae said, flashing his best flirty smile, the one that according to him melted all the girls. "I'm Kangdae. I was introduced earlier in the classroom."

She looked at him calmly. She was used to people talking to her, but this guy's attitude was way too invasive. She didn't like being blocked like that.

"Hi. Welcome to the school. If you'll excuse me, I'm in a hurry, I need to get to the cafeteria before the line gets longer," she replied politely, trying to step sideways to go around him.

But Kangdae moved his arm and blocked her again, not wiping that arrogant smile off his face.

"Relax, the cafeteria's not going anywhere. I just wanted to introduce myself properly. You're really pretty, you know that? At my old school, there weren't any girls as cute as you. I thought maybe we could grab lunch together, my treat. Or if you want, I can walk you home after class."

She frowned slightly. The situation was no longer just awkward, it was becoming really annoying. She was a kind person, but she also knew how to set very clear boundaries.

"I appreciate it, but I'm not interested," she said, her voice firm and clear, looking him straight in the eye. "And besides, I have a boyfriend. So, please, let me pass."

Any other normal guy in that school, or any other school for that matter, would have apologized immediately, lowered his head, and quickly walked away upon hearing the word "boyfriend."

But Kangdae had an enormous ego. He was convinced his charm was irresistible and that girls usually played hard to get at first just to get more attention.

Kangdae let out a small laugh and stepped closer to her, invading her personal space even more.

"A boyfriend? That's a shame. But hey, boyfriends don't last forever, right?" Kangdae said, his tone teasing. "I bet your boyfriend is one of those boring guys who only talks about video games or exams. I can offer you something much more fun... You don't have to be so shy with me."

She felt her patience running out. She pressed her lips together.

"I'm not shy, I just don't want to talk to you. My boyfriend isn't boring, and I love him very much. Now, move out of my way before this becomes a problem," she warned him, her tone getting harder.

Some students passing by in the hallway started to stop. Several guys and girls looked at the scene with their eyes wide open in terror.

Everyone recognized the girl. Everyone knew she was Ahn Suho's girlfriend. And everyone was watching the clueless new student dig his own grave in real time.

Whispers started filling the school hallway: "Is that the new guy? What's he doing?", "He's crazy, he's flirting with her.", "If Suho wakes up and sees him, he's going to kill him."

Kangdae heard the whispers around him but didn't pay them much attention. He thought the other students were impressed by his boldness or jealous of him. He had no idea of the truth.

"I like girls with attitude," Kangdae replied, completely ignoring her rejection. "I promise I'll change your mind. See you later, gorgeous."

Finally, Kangdae lowered his arm, giving her space to pass. She shot him a look of pure annoyance and walked quickly toward the cafeteria, wanting to get away from him as soon as possible.

That was only the first attempt.

Unfortunately for her, Kangdae turned out to be incredibly persistent and stubborn. Over the next two days, the new student became a constant nuisance.

He seemed incapable of understanding the word "no."

On Wednesday morning, when she arrived at school and opened her locker to put her books away, Kangdae appeared out of nowhere and leaned against the locker next to hers. He offered her an orange juice and gave her a very tacky compliment about her school uniform.

She immediately refused the juice, slammed her locker shut, and walked to her classroom without saying a word to him.

During PE class, while everyone was running on the court, Kangdae managed to jog right next to her. He tried to make conversation about the weather, about sports, and about how much he went to the gym to build muscle.

She simply ignored him for the entire hour.

For her, this was an unbearable headache. She wanted to tell Suho what was going on, but she hesitated a lot. She knew her boyfriend's temper.

If Suho found out that a new guy was harassing her and flirting with her every day, Suho wouldn't hesitate for a second to break the new kid's nose in front of all the teachers, and she didn't want Suho to get into trouble or get suspended from school over a fight.

She figured if she kept ignoring him, Kangdae would eventually get bored and leave her alone.

But Kangdae didn't get bored. In fact, the constant rejection only made his ego feel more challenged. He wanted to prove to everyone at his new school that he was the best and that he could win over the hard-to-get girl.

On Thursday at noon, things reached their peak.

Lunchtime had started. The cafeteria was full of students eating, talking, and laughing in groups. She had finished her lunch and headed to the back of the school building, near some old large trees, a quiet spot where she sometimes liked to sit and read while waiting for Suho to finish his rounds of sleep in the classroom.

She was sitting on a wooden bench, flipping through the pages of a novel, enjoying the silence, when she heard footsteps approaching through the grass.

She looked up and, to her total despair, saw Kangdae walking toward her. This time, Kangdae wasn't alone. He was accompanied by two other guys from class who had apparently become his new "friends."

These two guys were average students, guys who knew the school rules very well and, above all, knew Suho's reputation. The two friends walked a couple of steps behind Kangdae, looking extremely nervous, glancing around as if they were expecting a lion to jump out of the bushes at any moment.

Kangdae approached the bench with his hands in his pockets. He stopped right in front of her, blocking the sunlight.

"Hey again. I've been looking for you all over the cafeteria," Kangdae said, with that same arrogant smile that was already giving her a headache. "I thought we could hang out. My friends and I were thinking of going to the karaoke rooms after class. You should come with us. You can stop reading boring books and have some fun."

She closed her book with a snap. Her patience was completely gone. She stood up from the wooden bench, crossed her arms over her chest, and looked at him with an expression of absolute rejection and anger.

"Kangdae, I've told you so many times. I'm not interested in you. I don't want to go to karaoke with you, I don't want to talk to you, I don't want you to offer me juices, and I don't want you to keep looking for me," she said, raising her voice to make sure her message was clear and strong. "I told you from day one that I have a boyfriend. What part of that don't you understand? You're so annoying. Leave me alone once and for all."

Her words were so direct and harsh that anyone with a shred of common sense would have backed away in embarrassment. But Kangdae's ego was bruised from being rejected in front of his two new friends.

Instead of backing off, Kangdae decided he needed to act dominant.

Kangdae took a step toward her, closing the distance in a very aggressive way. She felt a little scared, but stood her ground without stepping back.

"Hey, you don't have to be so rude," Kangdae said, his voice sounding deeper and more threatening. "I'm just trying to be nice. And I keep hearing the same excuse about your famous boyfriend, but I've been at this school for three days and I haven't seen any boyfriend by your side. Is he a coward who hides? Or did you make him up to play hard to get? Like I told you before, whoever your boyfriend is, I guarantee I'm a hundred times better than him."

The two friends standing behind Kangdae turned pale when they heard those words. One of them, a short guy with glasses, started sweating cold. He looked around in panic, knowing that talking badly about this girl's boyfriend was like signing a death sentence at that school.

The guy with glasses slowly approached Kangdae and tapped him on the shoulder with trembling hands.

"H-hey, Kangdae..." the friend stammered, his voice full of fear. "Just leave her alone. You don't know what you're getting yourself into. Let's get out of here, please."

Kangdae turned to his friend and slapped his hand away, looking at him with contempt.

"What are you talking about, idiot? I'm not going anywhere. I'm just talking to her. I'm not afraid of her imaginary boyfriend," Kangdae said, laughing mockingly.

The other friend, who was also terrified, stepped back, shaking his head quickly.

"I-it's not imaginary, Kangdae. We're serious. Dude, that's Suho's girl!" the other guy warned him, almost shouting in desperation. "She's Ahn Suho's girlfriend. You have to stop, he's going to kill you!"

Kangdae frowned for a second. He heard the name, but it didn't mean anything to him. He came from another area, didn't know the school's legends, and didn't care.

To him, this Suho must have just been some random student, maybe a guy from a sports club who thought he was important. Kangdae let out a loud, exaggerated laugh. He threw his head back, laughing out loud in front of her and his terrified friends.

"Suho?" Kangdae asked between laughs. "Who the hell is this Suho? Am I supposed to be scared of such a ridiculous name? I bet you anything that if this guy shows up here, I'll have him on his knees in two seconds and teach him to respect his elders. I'm the best here, let that be very clear to everyone."

Kangdae's laughter echoed in the back of the school. She looked at Kangdae with a mix of anger and pity, because she knew exactly what was about to happen.

Kangdae's two friends, however, weren't laughing. They had frozen completely, staring at a fixed point right behind Kangdae's back, their eyes so wide they looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets.

The atmosphere suddenly felt very heavy, the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. Behind Kangdae, walking with very quiet steps, like a predator stalking its prey, appeared Ahn Suho.

Suho wore his jacket unbuttoned, revealing the t-shirt he always wore under his uniform, which he also never buttoned up. His hands were in his pockets. His hair was a little messy from having been asleep, but his dark eyes showed not a single hint of drowsiness.

His eyes were fixed on the new kid's back, gleaming with a fury so intense it could freeze the blood of anyone who looked at him. Kangdae's two friends stepped back three steps at the same time, lowered their heads, and fell into absolute silence, praying for their lives.

Kangdae, seeing that his friends had suddenly gone quiet and were trembling, stopped laughing. He frowned and turned to look at the girl. She wasn't looking at him. She was looking over his shoulder, and a small smile of relief had appeared on her face.

"What's wrong? Why are you all looking at me like that?" Kangdae asked, realizing something was very wrong.

Before Kangdae could turn around to see what was behind him, he felt a presence at his back. He felt the heat of another body very close and heard calm breathing.

And then, the deepest, calmest voice Kangdae had ever heard in his life resonated directly in his right ear.

"Keep talking to my girl and you'll find out very soon."

Suho's voice was like a bucket of ice water being dumped over Kangdae's head.

The new kid felt a shiver run down his entire spine. Every muscle in his body froze in fear. Slowly, with great dread, Kangdae turned his head over his shoulder.

Ahn Suho was standing right behind him, less than a meter away. Suho was a little taller than him, but the real difference wasn't physical, it was the energy the guy radiated.

Suho wasn't smiling. His face was completely serious, his jaw was tense, and his dark eyes looked at Kangdae as if he were a mere insect about to be crushed against the ground.

Kangdae swallowed with great difficulty. The knot in his throat wouldn't let him breathe properly. Suddenly, all the ego, all the arrogance, and all the confidence he had been showing off minutes before completely vanished into thin air.

Kangdae realized that this guy in front of him wasn't a normal student. This guy was the school's predator, and he had just walked straight into his territory.

"I-I... I was just..." Kangdae stammered, stepping back awkwardly, stumbling a little over his own feet to get away from Suho's presence.

Suho took a step forward, closing the distance immediately, forcing Kangdae to step back again. Suho took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms. He tilted his head slightly to the side, analyzing the new kid from head to toe with contempt.

"I heard you wanted to take her to karaoke," Suho said, his voice still calm, but every word sounded sharp. "And I also heard you thought you could put me on my knees in two seconds. I'd love to see you try... I'm waiting."

Suho spread his arms a little, offering Kangdae the chance to throw a punch, with a challenging look.

Kangdae felt his heart pounding a thousand miles an hour. He didn't dare move a single finger. He looked at Suho's hands, the broad knuckles that clearly had a lot of fighting experience, and then looked back at the dark, compassionless eyes of the guy.

Fear took over his nervous system. "N-no, no, it was a misunderstanding," Kangdae replied, his voice high-pitched with panic, raising his hands in surrender, sweating cold. "I didn't know who you were. I swear, I didn't. I didn't mean to disrespect anyone. I'm leaving. I'm getting out of here right now."

Suho didn't change his hard expression. He took another step toward Kangdae, getting so close that the new student almost stopped breathing.

"Listen to me very carefully, new kid, because I'm only going to tell you this once in your entire life," Suho warned him, dropping his voice even lower so it sounded like a threat. "This girl is mine. She's my girlfriend. And if I ever see you within three meters of her again, if I ever hear that you offered her a juice, if you ever jog next to her in class again, or if you so much as dare to look at her for more than three seconds, I swear on my life that I will break every single bone in your body and send you back to your old school in an ambulance. Was I clear enough for your brain, or do you need me to explain it with my fists right now?"

Kangdae nodded his head so fast and so hard he almost got dizzy. Panic was evident all over his pale face.

"I-it was very clear! It was very clear, I swear! I'm never going near her again, ever! I'm so sorry!" Kangdae screamed, desperate to get out of that situation alive.

Suho looked at him with disgust for one more second. Then, he made a quick movement with his arm, pretending to throw a punch directly at the new kid's face.

Kangdae let out a scream of terror, covered his face with both arms, and threw himself to the ground on the grass, expecting the impact that would knock him out.

But the punch never came.

Suho lowered his arm, let out a small mocking laugh, and shook his head, watching the guy tremble on the ground.

"Get out of my sight. Now," Suho ordered firmly.

Kangdae jumped up from the ground as fast as he could, his uniform covered in dirt and grass. He didn't even look at his two friends, who were still frozen. The new kid turned around and ran off at full speed, almost tripping, getting away from the area as fast as his legs would carry him, disappearing behind the main school building.

His two friends, seeing that he had escaped, also made a quick apologetic bow toward Suho and ran after Kangdae as if the devil himself was chasing them.

Silence and peace returned to the back of the school. Suho sighed, running a hand through his hair to tidy it a little.

The second he turned around to look at his girlfriend, all the coldness in his gaze magically disappeared from his face, as if he had taken off a mask. His eyes were soft again, bright, and full of affection.

He walked toward her, with a wide, relaxed smile on his face. He stopped in front of her and looked her up and down, making sure she was okay.

"Are you okay, babe? Did that idiot do anything to you?" Suho asked, his voice sweet and worried, extending his hands to take hers.

She smiled, feeling her heart fill with so much love for him. She interlaced her fingers with Suho's and squeezed his warm hands.

"I'm fine, Suho. He didn't do anything to me, he was just really persistent and wouldn't take no for an answer," she replied, looking into his eyes with tenderness. "But you scared me. I didn't want you to get into trouble over a stupid fight at school. That's why I didn't tell you anything, I thought he'd give up quickly."

Suho made a small childish pout when he heard that, a gesture he only made when he was with her. He let go of one of her hands and used his arm to wrap around her waist, pulling her toward him, hugging her tightly.

"I don't care about trouble at school, I care about you," Suho told her, lowering his face to bury it in her neck, breathing in the scent of her sweet perfume. "You're my girlfriend, and it's my job to make sure nobody bothers you. You should have told me from the very beginning. That idiot was lucky I wasn't awake in the morning, otherwise he wouldn't have had the chance to bother you even once."

She let out a small laugh, hugging him back, feeling the comfort of Suho's strong body against hers.

"You're so jealous, Ahn Suho," she whispered affectionately, resting her head on his shoulder.

Suho pulled back a little, looking into her eyes with a bright, proud smile.

"I'm just protecting what's mine. Everyone needs to know that the most beautiful and smartest girl in this world already has an owner, and that her boyfriend is the best fighter of them all," Suho joked, giving her a quick, very sweet kiss on the tip of her nose, making her smile even wider.

"You have such a big ego sometimes," she laughed, taking his hand again.

"My ego is justified because I have you by my side," Suho replied, winking at her playfully, back to being his usual relaxed self. "Now, come on. Let's get out of here. I already lost too much sleep time because of that idiot and I'm really hungry. I'll treat you to your favorite cake and then you let me sleep on your lap in the classroom for a bit, okay?"

She nodded her head, very happy.

"Okay, let's go. But you're paying for the cake," she told him, starting to walk.

Suho laughed, put his arm around her shoulders, and they both started walking together toward the school cafeteria, as if nothing bad had happened.

They were the perfect balance again, the couple everyone admired.

And just as Suho had promised, Kangdae never bothered her again. In fact, from that day on, whenever Kangdae saw her walking through the school hallways, he would quickly change direction, lower his gaze to the ground, and hide behind his friends, terrified that the guy would appear out of nowhere to carry out his threat.

S I E U N

Sieun didn’t say much when he first saw you on crutches with your leg in a cast. He just stared for a long second, then quietly asked, “How long until it heals?”

He became your silent shadow. Every day after school he showed up at your house with notes from class, neatly organized. He’d sit on the edge of your bed, carefully helping you prop your leg up on pillows. When your leg ached, he didn’t panic, he just set a timer and gave you medicine exactly when you needed it.

One evening you got frustrated trying to reach something on the table. Sieun stood up without a word, grabbed it, then gently sat beside you. He didn’t like seeing you struggle.

“You don’t have to do everything for me,” you mumbled, a little embarrassed.

“I want to,” he said simply. His voice was quiet but firm. “Let me.”

At night he stayed longer than he was used to. He’d read while you rested your head on his shoulder, one hand lightly resting on your good knee like he was making sure you were good. When you winced in your sleep from pain, he’d wake up and adjust the pillows without you even asking. Calm, but always there.

S U H O

Suho was so loud in the moment he found out.

“A broken leg?! Who did this? I’m gonna—” He stopped when he saw your tired face and immediately softened. “Never mind. I got you.”

He turned into full caretaker. He showed up with snacks, your favorite drinks, and a ridiculous amount of pillows. He carried you everywhere bridal style, even when you told him you could use crutches.

“Nu-uh. My baby doesn’t touch the ground,” he grinned, but his eyes were gentle.

He skipped some of his usual jobs just to stay with you. When your leg hurt too much, he’d sit behind you on the bed, letting you lean back on his chest while he played with your hair. He told you dumb jokes to distract you from the pain and got genuinely upset when you tried to do too much by yourself.

One night you started crying because you felt useless. Suho wiped your tears with his thumbs and kissed your forehead.

“You’re not useless. You’re resting so you can get better. And I’m here, okay? I like taking care of you.”

He fell asleep holding your hand, scared to accidentally bump your leg.

B E O M S E O K

Beomseok panicked at first. “What do you mean broken?! Does it hurt a lot? Should I carry you? Wait... I don’t know how to carry someone with a cast!”

But once he calmed down, he became the most attentive caretaker ever.

He decorated your cast with silly drawings and little hearts. He brought you snacks every single day, sometimes too many. “I got the spicy ones you like! And chocolate! And those sour candies!”

When you needed to move, he was right there, supporting your weight even when you told him you could manage. He got sulky when you tried doing things alone.

“Yah, why won’t you let me help? I want to take care of you”.

At night he got clingy. He’d lie next to you, very carefully, and wrap his arms around your waist, face buried in your neck. If you made any sound of discomfort, he’d wake up instantly.

“Does it hurt? Want me to get ice? Medicine? A hug?”

He was loud, sometimes clumsy, but his love was so obvious it made your chest warm. He even argued with your mom about who got to bring you breakfast.

W O O Y O U N G

Wooyoung tried to act cool when he first saw the cast, but you caught the worry in his eyes.

“Tch, how did you manage to do this yourself?” he teased, but he was already kneeling down to check if the cast was comfortable.

He became surprisingly gentle. He’d show up after his trainings with little gifts, a new plushie, your favorite drink, pain relief patches. He was really good at distracting you from the pain with stories and teasing.

When you had to use crutches, he walked right beside you, one hand hovering behind your back just in case.

“I’m not gonna let you fall, stupid.”

One afternoon you tried to stand up by yourself and almost lost balance. Wooyoung caught you instantly, pulling you against his chest.

“Don’t scare me like that,” he muttered, voice softer than usual. He hugged you for a long time before helping you back to bed.

At night he got shy about it, but he stayed. He’d lie beside you, playing games on his phone with the volume low, occasionally reaching over to rub your good leg when it cramped. When you thanked him, he’d look away, ears red.

“…Of course I’m here. Who else is gonna take care of you?”

S E O N G J E

Seongje tried to act like it wasn’t a big deal at first. He showed up at your house with his usual cocky smirk, but the moment he saw you struggling on crutches, his face changed.

“You look pathetic,” he said, but his voice was softer than normal. He immediately took the crutches from you and carried you to the couch like you weighed nothing.

From then on, he became weirdly gentle. He hated seeing you in pain. When your leg throbbed, he’d sit next to you quietly and massage around the cast with surprisingly careful hands. He brought you ice packs without you asking and even skipped hanging out with his usual group just to stay with you.

One night you couldn’t sleep because of the pain. Seongje laid beside you, one arm carefully draped over your waist.

“Stop moving so much,” he grumbled, but he pulled you closer against his chest. “I’m right here. Just sleep.”

He stayed the whole night, waking up every time you shifted. Protective and lowkey worried, even if he covered it with light teasing.

B A E K J I N

The second Baekjin found out about your broken leg. He showed up with a whole bag of supplies, medicine, comfortable pillows, snacks, and even a small bell so you could call him if he was in another room.

“You’re not lifting a finger until this heals,” he said firmly, but his eyes were warm.

He was extremely organized. He made a schedule for your medicine, helped you shower, with a plastic cover on the cast, and carried you everywhere. When you felt bad about depending on him so much, he cupped your face gently.

“I take care of what’s mine. And you’re mine. Got it?”

At night he was surprisingly soft. He’d lie next to you, stroking your hair until you fell asleep. If the pain woke you up, he was instantly awake, getting you water and painkillers, then pulling you against him while whispering that you’d be okay.

B A K U

Baku was the most energetic about it, but also a gentlest giant.

When he first saw your cast, he looked genuinely shocked. “Who the hell did this? I’ll—” He stopped when you laughed and told him it was just an accident.

Then he became your personal servant.

He carried you on his back everywhere, even when you said you could use crutches. “My back is stronger than those stupid sticks,” he’d say with a grin.

He bought way too many snacks and drinks. He drew silly cartoons all over your cast, including a little version of himself cheering you on. When your leg hurt, he’d sit you between his legs on the bed and rub your shoulders or good leg to distract you from the pain.

At night he was like a big teddy bear. He’d wrap his big arms around you carefully, making sure your cast was properly propped up on pillows.

He’d hum random songs quietly until you fell asleep on his chest.

“You’re safe with me. Always.”

G O T A K

Gotak got quiet when he saw you with the cast. He didn’t say much at first, just helped you sit down and stared at your leg for a while.

After that, he became super attentive in his own quiet way. He wasn’t loud or dramatic, but he was always there. He learned how to help you move properly, adjusted your pillows perfectly, and brought you food from your favorite places.

He got shy when you thanked him too much. “It’s nothing,” he’d mutter, ears turning red.

One evening you started crying because you felt useless and frustrated. Gotak panicked a little, then sat beside you and pulled you into his chest, stroking your back awkwardly but sweetly.

“Don’t cry… I’ll stay until you’re better. As long as it takes.”

He slept on the floor next to your bed the first few nights just so he could be close if you needed anything. When you finally convinced him to sleep on the bed, he held your hand the whole night.

J U N T A E

Juntae tried to play it cool and tough when he first saw your broken leg, but his worried eyes gave him away.

“Tch, how do you even manage to break your leg?” he teased, but he was already helping you sit down and fluffing the pillows behind your back.

He was surprisingly good at taking care of you. He remembered what time you needed medicine, helped you with homework so you wouldn’t fall behind, and even learned how to cook simple meals for you, though some attempts were… questionable.

When you were in pain, he got fidgety and anxious. He’d sit close to you, letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you wanted. He’d distract you by telling you random stories or playing games on his phone with you.

At night he got clingy. He’d lie beside you, burying his face in your neck.

“Don’t scare me like this again,” he whispered. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

The first time she got into that taxi, she didn't think anything of it. It was just a black car, clean, with a driver who didn't speak. She gave him the address and he nodded, once, without looking at her. The engine purred and the car slid out into the road.

There was no music, just the sound of traffic, muffled by the car's closed windows.

She watched his hands on the steering wheel. Large, with prominent knuckles. There was a scar on the back of his right hand, like he had cut himself on something and hadn't tended to the wound properly.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable, it never was. It was heavy, yes, but not hostile.

When they arrived, she paid in cash like she always did. He counted the bills slowly, brow furrowed, and then nodded again. She said, "Thank you," and he made a low sound, a murmur she could never quite make out.

The door closed and the taxi pulled away before she could even cross the street.

It wasn't the last time she saw him.

She started seeing him often. She worked at a coffee shop near a taxi stand, and sometimes, when she got out late from the closing shift, the only car available was his. At first it was coincidence. Then, without either of them saying anything, it became routine.

Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. He was there, parked on the same corner, headlights off and engine running. She didn't know if he was waiting for her specifically, though she made herself believe it was probably just his usual spot.

"Good evening," she would say as she got in, always with the same soft tone.

He would respond with a murmur and start the meter.

At first they didn't talk. She looked out the window, he drove. But one night it rained and she forgot her umbrella. As she got out, he handed her a black one through the window without a word.

"Is this yours?" she asked, hesitant.

"Take it."

She returned it two days later, dry and folded. He stored it under the seat without looking at it.

"Thank you," she said.

He started the engine after a slight nod.

That's how it started. Or something like that.

Weeks passed. The silence gradually faded. One night, she had a bag from the coffee shop with some bread she always took home for her days off or her breakfasts.

Before getting out that day, she left a paper cup on the front armrest.

"What's this?" he asked. His voice was deep and rough, like he didn't use it much.

"Coffee. Americano, no sugar. I don't know how you take it, but you look like the kind of person who drinks coffee without sugar."

He looked at the cup. Then at her. His eyes were large though narrow, very dark, and he had a way of furrowing his brow that many people might find threatening.

"You didn't have to."

"I know," she said. "But I wanted to. I work with coffee all day. It's the only thing I can offer you."

Something shifted after that. He started asking questions. They weren't normal questions, at least not from someone trying to make polite conversation. They were short phrases, as if he had thought about them for a long time and didn't quite know how to express them.

"Do you always get out this late?"

"Only on the days I close," she answered. "Three times a week."

"It's dangerous."

She looked at him for a second and shrugged. "I know, but I don't have a car and the bus that gets me closest to my apartment takes an hour. I'd rather pay for a taxi."

He didn't say anything else. But the following week, when she came out, the taxi was already at the door. Headlights off. Engine running.

"Were you waiting for me?" she asked as she got in, with a small smile.

He took a moment to answer but gave her a glance through the rearview mirror. "I was nearby."

It was a lie. The taxi stand was three blocks away.

She didn't push. She just thanked him and asked if he had eaten. He looked at her strangely, as if no one had asked him that in a long time.

"Yes," he lied.

She knew from the slight delay in his answer, but she didn't say anything. The next night, she brought him a sandwich wrapped in aluminum foil and left it on the passenger seat as she got out.

"In case you haven't eaten," she said, before closing the door.

He stayed still, hands on the steering wheel, staring at the silver package as if it were an object someone had forgotten in the back seat of the taxi.

A month later, he had already learned the route to and from her place by heart. He knew she preferred main avenues over shortcuts through alleys. He knew certain days she was more tired because she had inventory. He knew she liked darkness but not silence, because she always left the window open a crack even when it was cold, just to hear the sound of the traffic.

And she started learning things about him. Not because he told her. She deduced them, observed them. She observed that his car was spotless, and that he probably washed it by hand. That in the glove compartment he kept a flashlight, a Swiss army knife, an old charger. That sometimes he looked through the rearview mirror not to check traffic, but to scan the sidewalks. That his breathing slowed when someone got too close to the car at a stoplight.

One night, while they waited at an intersection, she said, "You're very observant."

He shifted his eyes from the traffic light to the rearview mirror. Their gazes met for a second. "You have to be on the streets," he said. "You can't let your guard down in this job."

She nodded. She didn't ask anything else. But he kept talking, and that surprised her.

"I've seen a lot of things. People who get in crying. People who are very good at lying. People who shouldn't get into a taxi."

"And what kind of person am I?" she asked, without thinking.

"You're the kind who asks permission before closing the door."

She smiled. She didn't know he noticed things like that. "It's your car," she said. "It's not a public bus. It seems logical to ask permission."

He let out a huff. It wasn't exactly a laugh, but almost. "No one else does."

From then on, she greeted him by name when she saw him. She had read it on the plastic license hanging from the keychain. Park Seung-tae. The first time she called him that, he turned his head so fast his neck cracked.

"How do you know my name?"

"It's on the license," she said, pointing. "Do you prefer I don't use it?"

He stayed quiet for a moment. Then he shook his head. "No. It's fine. It's just... it's been a while since I heard it."

She didn't ask why. There was no need.

One night, she got out later than usual. There had been a problem with the cash register closing and the manager kept her almost forty minutes. When she came out, the taxi wasn't on the corner. She felt a sting of disappointment, but reminded herself that he had no obligation to wait for her.

He was just a taxi driver. She was just a customer.

She walked toward the bus stop, bundling up in her jacket. The street was empty. Yellow streetlights. Closed storefronts. The echo of her own footsteps.

She heard the engine before she saw it. A deep purr she already recognized. The black taxi rounded the corner and pulled up beside her. The window rolled down.

"Get in."

"I thought you weren't coming," she said, relieved.

"I always will," he answered. "I got held up today. There was a problem."

She got in. The car was warm, it smelled like coffee and something metallic. "What problem?" she asked, out of habit.

He hesitated. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel. "A passenger. Didn't want to pay. Got aggressive."

"Did he hurt you?" she asked, turning to look at him better. She searched for wounds, bruises, anything.

"Not me," he said, his voice sounding deeper, almost irritated. "The car. He tried to break the meter."

She looked down at the meter. It seemed intact, but the plastic casing had a deep scratch, like something sharp had tried to pierce it.

"I'm sorry," she said.

He looked at her, confused. "It's not your fault. You weren't the one who did it."

"I know. But I'm sorry anyway. It's your space, your work tool. For someone to damage it... it's not fair."

He didn't answer. He drove in silence for a long while. But when they reached the door of her building, he didn't turn off the engine right away.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her hand on the handle.

"Yes," he said. "It's just... I don't understand."

"What?"

"Why you're like this."

"Like what?"

"Kind," he said, as if the word burned his tongue a little. "To me."

She let go of the handle and stayed still. "I don't need a reason to be kind. And you don't need to deserve it. It's just... normal treatment. Basic. What people should do."

"Most people don't."

"Then most people are idiots," she said, with such simple conviction that he blinked.

That night, for the first time, he watched her until she entered the building and turned on the lobby light. He waited until the light on the second floor came on. Then he left.

Days later, something else happened. Something small, but significant.

She went out on a Thursday, which wasn't her usual day. She had made plans to have dinner with a friend, and when she left the restaurant, close to ten, she saw Seung-tae's taxi parked on the other side of the street.

It wasn't his area. It wasn't his schedule. But there he was.

She walked over and tapped on the window. He rolled it down. "What are you doing here?"

"Working," he said, without making a big deal of it.

"On this street? It's half an hour from your usual stop."

He wasn't good at lying. You could tell by his jaw, which tensed up, and the way he averted his gaze. "You told me you were having dinner around here. The other night. You mentioned it."

She fell silent. She remembered mentioning it, in passing, while she was on the phone with her friend. She didn't think he had been listening.

"And you came all the way here," she said. She didn't ask. She said it with complete certainty. "In case I needed a taxi."

"This area is bad at night," he said, defensive, trying to make his words sound less humiliating. "Lots of bars, lots of drunks. It's hard to find an available taxi at these hours."

"Right."

"I'm serious, it's rare."

"I didn't say it wasn't."

He huffed. She smiled and opened the back door. This time, however, she stopped, closed it, and opened the passenger door.

"May I?" she asked.

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "That seat isn't for customers."

"I know. But I'm not just a customer. Am I?"

The silence was long this time. "No," he admitted. "You're not."

She sat in the front. The car started. And for the first time in all those months, he spoke first.

"Tell me something."

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"Something. Anything. How work was. What you ordered for dinner. If you like rain or prefer sun. Anything."

She looked at him, surprised. Then she smiled and started talking. She told him about the Italian restaurant where she had gone for dinner, about the overly salty lasagna, about her friend who was thinking of moving, about how when she was little she was scared of storms but now she loved the smell of wet earth. She talked unhurriedly, leaving spaces so he could jump in if he wanted.

He didn't jump in. But he listened. He listened with total attention, as if every word were valuable information to him.

When they arrived, he turned off the engine. "I like the rain too," he said, suddenly. "It cleans the car and... when there are no passengers, the sound helps me think."

She nodded, as if he had just shared his biggest secret.

"Good night, Seung-tae."

"Good night."

It was the first time he returned the greeting.

Winter came. The nights were longer, colder. Early one morning, she left work with a fever. She hadn't told anyone, she had powered through the shift because she needed the money and because she was too stubborn to ask for coverage, plus she didn't want to work overtime.

When she got into the taxi, she let herself fall into the passenger seat, which was already a habit, and closed her eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his tone sharper than usual.

"Tired," she murmured. "Just tired."

He didn't start the car. He leaned toward her slightly, not invading her space, but enough to see her face under the yellow interior light. "You have a fever."

"It's not that bad."

"Yes it is. You're shaking."

It was true. She hadn't noticed until he said it. She was trembling slightly, despite the warmth of the car. He adjusted the heat without saying anything and pulled a jacket from the back seat.

"Put this on."

"There's no need..."

"Put it on."

It wasn't a harsh order. It was almost a plea. She obeyed. The jacket smelled like detergent and the leather of clean seats. It was huge on her, but she felt immediately better.

"Thank you," she said, bundling up.

He drove slower than usual. He avoided the potholes. He slowed down on the curves. When a car honked at them for going too slow on an avenue, he didn't even blink.

"Are you always like this?" she asked, eyes closed.

"Like what?"

"So... careful."

He took a moment to answer.

"I don't know how to be any other way," he said at last. "With you."

She opened her eyes and looked at him. He was staring ahead, hands on the steering wheel, jaw tight. He was a big guy, with hard features, with eyes that seemed to have seen too many things.

Anyone would say he was scary. And she understood why. She understood why people got nervous getting into his taxi, why they avoided his gaze, why they lowered their voices.

But she also understood other things. She understood that this guy kept umbrellas for absentminded passengers like her. That he went off his route to make sure she got home safe. That he remembered her schedules, her conversations, her favorite foods.

That he had never, not once, made her feel uncomfortable, watched, unsafe.

"You're the safest person I know," she said, quietly. "Did you know that?"

He turned his head for an instant. His eyes, usually expressionless, opened a little. "That's not true."

"It is to me."

The rest of the ride passed in silence. But it was a different silence, warmer. When they arrived, he insisted on walking her to the building.

"I'm fine, really," she said.

"Don't argue."

He waited in the drizzle, without an umbrella, until the light on the second floor came on. Only then did he walk away. She, from the window, watched him get into the taxi and stay there for a few minutes, engine off, before leaving.

The next morning, she found a bag hanging from her doorknob. Inside were fever medication, a thermos of hot soup, and a note written on a piece of paper torn from a notebook.

The handwriting was squared off, clumsy, like someone who doesn't write by hand very often.

"Don't work today. Rest."

It wasn't signed. It didn't need to be.

When she recovered, she got back into the taxi. It was Friday, her usual day. He was on the usual corner. When he saw her, his shoulders, which always seemed tense, relaxed almost imperceptibly.

"I'm fine now," she said, before he could ask.

"That's good."

"Thank you for the other day. The soup, the medicine..."

"It was nothing."

"It was something to me."

He huffed and started the car. But there was something different in his expression. A touch of softness around the eyes. Even his hands held the steering wheel more gently.

That night, she talked about her family. About her parents, who lived far away. About a brother she barely spoke to. About how alone she felt sometimes in the city, surrounded by people but without anyone who truly knew her.

"I don't have anyone either," he said, suddenly.

She turned toward him. It was the first time he shared something personal without her asking. "No one?"

"No one. A long time ago some things happened that... made the people around me leave."

She didn't ask for details. They weren't necessary. She just nodded and said, "Well, now you have me."

He didn't answer. But when he dropped her off at her building, before she got out, he touched her arm. A very brief brush, barely the contact of knuckles against the sleeve of her jacket.

"Thank you," he said, his voice hoarse.

She smiled. "Thank you, Seung-tae. For always being there."

He nodded. And for the first time since she'd known him, he gave something that could be described as a smile. Small, crooked, almost invisible. But a smile at the end of the day.

Time passed. The seasons changed. They kept meeting on those taxi nights, sharing words, coffee, and sandwiches. She stopped paying for the rides because he refused to charge her.

She insisted, they argued, and in the end they reached an agreement: she would bring him dinner on the days she worked late and he would take her home without the meter.

One spring night, with the streets wet from a recent rain, she fell asleep in the passenger seat. He didn't wake her. He parked in front of her building, turned off the engine, and waited. He took off his jacket and placed it over her, careful not to brush against her.

Then he leaned back in his seat and watched the empty street, the streetlights reflected in the puddles, the moon between the clouds.

He felt, for the first time in many years, at peace.

She woke up half an hour later. She saw the jacket over her shoulders, saw his profile leaning against the window, saw the calm on his face.

"Why didn't you wake me?" she asked, her voice groggy.

"You were tired."

"So are you."

"I can wait."

She sat up and handed him back his jacket. "Do you want to come up?" she asked. "For some coffee."

He looked at her. His dark eyes shone under the moonlight. "It's not necessary."

"I know. But I want to. If you want to."

He turned off the car. Pulled out the key. Slipped it into his pocket. "Okay," he said.

They climbed the stairs together. She opened the door to her apartment, small but cozy, with bookshelves full of books and some art prints hanging on the walls painted a yellowish off-white.

He stood at the entrance, uncomfortable, as if he didn't know how to inhabit spaces that weren't his taxi.

"You can sit down," she said with an amused smile. "I don't bite."

He sat on the edge of the couch, stiff as a board. She made coffee in the kitchen, two steaming cups, and sat down beside him. She didn't turn on the TV. She didn't put on music. She just let the silence settle between them, comfortable now.

"I never thought I'd be here," he said, after a long while.

"In my house?"

"Well, in anyone's house."

She understood. She set her cup on the table and turned toward him, tucking her legs up onto the couch.

"Well, you're here," she said. "And I'm glad to have you in my house."

He looked at her. His eyes traced her face as if he wanted to memorize it, as if he feared it might disappear at any moment. "Me too," he said, almost in a whisper. "I'm glad."

She smiled. Outside, the rain started falling again, soft, steady, and she noticed. "Stay a little longer," she said. "The rain is heavy."

"The rain doesn't bother me," he said. "But if you're asking me to stay... I will."

And he stayed. Until the coffee went cold. Until the rain stopped. Until the sky started to lighten on the horizon.

When he finally left, well into the early morning, she said goodbye at the door.

"See you Monday," he said, going down the stairs.

"Monday," she confirmed. "Good night, Seung-tae. Or good morning."

Oh Beomseok had never been the center of attention anywhere. He had always been the quiet kid, the one who walked with his head down and his shoulders hunched, trying to go unnoticed in the school hallways. That's why, when the rumor that he had a girlfriend started spreading through the classrooms, nobody could believe it.

Let alone when they met her.

She was the new girl. She had transferred to the school just a few weeks ago, but she had already caught the attention of many because of how pretty and quiet she was. She had a soft smile, a sweet voice, and always wore her uniform perfectly neat, without a single wrinkle.

She seemed like the type of girl who spent her weekends reading books or baking cookies.

One Tuesday at lunchtime, Beomseok finally gathered the courage to introduce her to his only and best friends: Ahn Suho and Yeon Sieun.

The cafeteria was loud, with students shouting and metal trays clashing, but at the corner table, the atmosphere was a bit calmer. Beomseok walked up holding her hand. He was so nervous his palms were sweating, and his glasses seemed to slide down his nose more than usual.

"Guys..." Beomseok started, stuttering a bit, feeling his face burn with embarrassment. "This is my girlfriend. I wanted you to meet her."

Suho, who was about to shove a whole piece of meat into his mouth, stopped and his eyes went wide. Sieun, who was reading a book while eating in silence, looked up with his typical calm expression, but even he seemed a little surprised.

"Wow, Beomseok!" Suho suddenly shouted, dropping his chopsticks and standing up to give him a slap on the back that almost knocked him to the floor. "I can't believe it! Bro, you have a girlfriend and you didn't tell us anything!"

The new girl blushed a little. Her face turned a very cute shade of pink, and she hid slightly behind Beomseok's shoulder, gripping the sleeve of his school jacket.

"Hi," she said, with a voice so soft that Suho almost had to lean in to hear her. "Beomseok has told me a lot about you guys. Ahn Suho and Yeon Sieun, right? It's nice to finally meet you."

"The pleasure is ours," Sieun replied, carefully closing his book. He gave her a small nod, polite as always. "Sit down and eat with us."

During that lunch, Suho and Sieun realized the girl was incredibly sweet. She gave half of her dessert to Beomseok, listened to him speak with complete attention, and laughed while covering her mouth with her hand every time Suho made a loud joke. She was so good, so innocent, and so kind that Suho and Sieun exchanged glances a couple of times, thinking their friend had found a girl who perfectly matched his quiet personality. Everything about her screamed "good girl."

But things took a very strange turn just a few days later.

It was Friday night. Or rather, it was already early Saturday morning. The clock read almost one A.M. Suho and Sieun had gone out to hang out. They had been playing video games—Sieun being dragged along by him, obviously—for hours, and then they had gone to eat fried chicken at a street stall that closed late.

The street was lit only by the neon signs of 24-hour convenience stores and streetlamps. It was a bit cold, so they both had their hands in their jacket pockets as they walked toward the bus stop to head home.

The district was pretty empty at that hour. The only sounds were a car passing in the distance and their own breathing.

Suddenly, a loud noise broke the silence of the street. It was a girl's laugh. A loud, almost scandalous laugh that bounced off the walls of the buildings.

Suho turned his head toward the sound. A couple of blocks away, coming out of an alleyway that connected to an area of bars and nightclubs, a couple was walking.

The girl was laughing out loud, stumbling a bit on her feet, clearly drunk. She was wearing clothes Suho would never imagine seeing on the street at that hour: a short skirt, a black leather jacket, tall boots, and flashy accessories. The guy with her had an arm wrapped around her waist, trying to keep her upright, while carrying a bunch of expensive designer shopping bags in his other hand.

Suho squinted to see better in the dark. The guy under the streetlight looked familiar. Way too familiar. His glasses, his hunched posture, his hair.

"Isn't that Beomseok?" Suho asked aloud, stopping in his tracks.

Sieun stopped beside him and looked in the same direction. His serious eyes scanned the scene.

Yes, it was definitely Oh Beomseok. But who was the girl hanging onto his arm?

As the couple got a little closer on the same sidewalk, the light from a convenience store sign illuminated the girl's face. Suho's and Sieun's jaws dropped.

It was her. Beomseok's girlfriend.

But she looked completely different. Her makeup was bold, with thick, dark eyeliner and bright red lipstick that was slightly smudged. Her hair was messy. There wasn't a single trace of the soft, quiet girl they had met in the school cafeteria. This girl looked ready to party until dawn, and she was so drunk she could barely walk straight.

"Beomseok!" Suho yelled, raising his hand and waving, not thinking that maybe it wasn't the best time to interrupt.

Upon hearing his name, Beomseok whipped his head around. When he saw Suho and Sieun standing at the end of the street, his face went as white as a sheet. A panicked expression washed over his face. His eyes widened drastically, as if he'd been caught committing a crime.

Without saying a single word, Beomseok reacted on instinct. He grabbed the girl tightly by the arm and quickly pulled her into a dark alley next to them, trying to hide her from his friends' view. He wanted to disappear from there as fast as possible.

But before Beomseok could pull her completely into the shadows, the girl resisted a little. She turned around to look at where Suho and Sieun were standing. Instead of getting scared or hiding in shame because they had seen her in that state, the girl stared right at them.

A confident smile appeared on her red-painted lips. She raised her free hand, giving them a little finger wave, and then winked at them before Beomseok finally managed to drag her into the darkness of the alleyway, and they disappeared from sight.

Suho stood there with his hand frozen in the air. Sieun frowned, feeling that something wasn't adding up at all.

"Was that... his girlfriend?" Suho asked, lowering his hand, looking at Sieun in total confusion. "The same girl who said on Tuesday that she was scared of mirrors at night because she watched a scary movie where the monster...?"

Sieun didn't answer right away. He stared at the empty alleyway for a few seconds. "Yeah. It was her."

"She was drunk..." Suho said, scratching his head. "How weird..."

On Monday morning, Suho arrived at school on a mission to figure out what had happened on Friday night. It was very early, and the school hallways were just starting to fill with yawning students opening their lockers.

Suho and Sieun were walking to their classroom when they saw her.

She was standing in front of her locker, taking out some books for first period. She wore her spotless school uniform, her hair was perfectly styled, and she didn't have a single drop of makeup on her fresh face.

She looked like an angel. Her posture was straight and calm.

Suho approached her quickly, with Sieun walking a step behind him.

"Hey!" Suho greeted her loudly, making the girl give a little jump out of startlement.

She closed her locker and turned toward them, bringing a hand to her chest. When she saw it was Suho and Sieun, her face lit up with that soft, sweet smile they already knew.

"Oh, Suho, you scared me," she said in her quiet, tender voice. "Good morning to you both. How was your weekend?"

Suho crossed his arms and gave her a teasing smile, raising an eyebrow.

"My weekend was fine. But yours must have been way better, huh?" Suho joked, nudging the air playfully. "Tell me the truth, how bad was that Saturday morning hangover?"

The girl blinked. Her smile didn't fade, but her eyebrows knit together in an expression of pure confusion. She tilted her head a little, looking at him as if Suho were speaking another language.

"Hangover?" she asked, sounding genuinely lost. "I'm sorry, I... I don't drink alcohol. I don't even like the smell of it."

Suho let out a laugh, thinking she was playing dumb so the teachers wouldn't hear her.

"Oh, come on. Don't play the saint with us. We saw you Friday night near the bar district," Suho insisted, lowering his voice a bit so no one else would hear. "You were with Beomseok. You were wearing a leather jacket and you were so drunk he could barely keep you on your feet. You even waved and winked at us before he ran off with you."

The girl's face changed. She no longer looked confused; now she looked a bit scared and very worried. She looked at Suho, then at Sieun, searching for any sign that this was all a sick joke.

"Suho... I really don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "On Friday night I was at home studying for the history test. I went to sleep at ten. I've never... never been to the bar district and I don't own a leather jacket. I think you're mistaking me for someone else."

Sieun, who had been observing every micro-expression on her face, realized she wasn't lying. She wasn't faking it. She was telling the truth.

Her eyes reflected such sincere confusion and a bit of fear upon hearing that she had been seen on the street when she remembered being asleep.

Sieun opened his mouth to ask her a question, to try and understand what was going on, but before he could say a single word, someone came running down the hallway.

"Hey! Guys!" Beomseok yelled.

He skidded to a halt right in front of them. He was sweating, breathing heavily, as if he had run all the way from the school entrance. When he saw Suho and Sieun talking to his girlfriend, his eyes filled with the same panic they had seen on Friday night.

Beomseok didn't greet them. He didn't make any jokes. He simply grabbed the girl tightly by the wrist and yanked her toward him.

"We have to go. The teacher is calling us for something," Beomseok lied hurriedly, without even looking his friends in the eye. "Let's go, now."

The girl was startled by the tug, but nodded, still looking a little confused by everything.

"See you later, guys," she waved with her free hand as Beomseok literally dragged her down the hall at a brisk pace, getting her as far away from Suho and Sieun as quickly as possible.

Suho stood watching them walk away, scratching his head.

"Hey..." Suho said, looking at Sieun with a frown. "Are you sure that was her on Friday?"

Sieun nodded slowly. "It was her. And Beomseok knows something he doesn't want to tell us."

And they weren't wrong; Beomseok was guarding a huge secret with his life.

His girlfriend, the sweet girl who loved to read and had an angel's smile, suffered from a dissociative identity disorder. A split personality.

During the day, she was the kindest and quietest person on the planet. But when night fell, or sometimes when a situation triggered the switch, her other personality took control of her body and mind.

And this other personality was her complete polar opposite.

The nocturnal personality was immature, loud, impulsive, and had a gigantic obsession with partying and shopping. She loved dressing in flashy clothes, short skirts, dark makeup, and tall boots. While the daytime girl was thrifty and careful, the nighttime girl wouldn't hesitate to blow all the cash she had on her on fake jewelry, tight clothes, and expensive makeup in the middle of the night. She liked to drink, she liked to laugh loudly, and she liked to be the center of attention.

But there was one thing this other personality was very clear about: her deep, suffocating need to be with Oh Beomseok.

The nighttime personality was extremely possessive and clingy with him. When she took control, Beomseok had to be by her side at all times. If he stepped more than a few feet away, she would spiral into an irrational panic.

There was one night when Beomseok took her to a park. She was wearing his jacket, chewing gum, and forcing Beomseok to carry her shopping bags. Beomseok let go of her hand for just ten seconds to step over to a vending machine to buy her a bottle of water, since she had been drinking earlier.

As soon as she stopped feeling the warmth of Beomseok's hand and didn't see him right beside her, her breathing hitched. Her gaze turned wild. She started spinning around in the middle of the empty park.

"Beomseok!" she had screamed that night, her voice trembling, ignoring the bags that had dropped to the ground. "Where are you?! Beomseok, don't leave me alone! Beomseok!"

He had to sprint over to her, throw the water bottle aside, and hug her tightly until she stopped shaking and smiled again, hooking her arm around his neck and kissing his cheek as if nothing had happened.

It was exhausting for Beomseok. He had to take care of the sweet girl during the day, and he had to look after the impulsive party girl at night. He had to keep her out of trouble when she was drunk, he had to hide the weird clothes she bought so her daytime personality wouldn't find them in the closet, and he had to deal with the sleep deprivation from being out until the early hours.

But Beomseok loved her.

He loved both sides of her. And he had decided that he was going to protect her secret whatever it cost, because the daytime personality had absolutely no clue that the other one existed.

His daytime girlfriend suffered from amnesia during those nocturnal episodes. She thought she simply went to sleep early and woke up in her bed in the morning, completely unaware that in the middle of the night she had gone for long walks around the city.

Beomseok knew that if she found out, she would be terrified. She would think she was crazy and would probably distance herself from him so she wouldn't be a burden. And Beomseok wasn't going to let that happen.

That's why his mission was to keep Suho and Sieun from finding out the truth.

But the universe had other plans.

A couple of weeks after that incident in the hallway, Beomseok's luck finally ran out.

It was another Friday night. Suho and Sieun were sitting at the tables outside a convenience store, having instant ramen and sodas. They were talking about nonsense and the classes they'd had that week.

A couple of streets away, Beomseok was walking with her. Her nighttime personality had come out in full force that evening. She was dressed in a sparkly black blouse and ripped jeans. She wasn't drunk this time, but she was very hyper. She had a tight grip on Beomseok's hand, almost dragging him down the street, window-shopping at the closed stores, loudly snapping her bubblegum out of boredom.

Suddenly, the girl's eyes caught movement at the convenience store tables in the distance. She squinted and immediately recognized the red school jacket and blonde hair of Suho, and Sieun sitting next to him.

Her nocturnal memory worked perfectly. She remembered that the tall, brown-haired boy had shouted Beomseok's name that night when he hid her in the alley.

A mischievous smirk appeared on her face. She let out a little giggle.

"Beomseok, look!" she said, pointing into the distance with her black-painted fingernail. "It's the guys from the other night."

Beomseok looked up. When he saw Suho and Sieun eating ramen, his heart stopped. Panic flooded him instantly. He tugged at her hand to turn around and run in the opposite direction, just like last time.

"No, no, no, we need to go this way, I took the wrong street," Beomseok said quickly, breaking into a cold sweat.

But the nighttime personality was much more stubborn and stronger than the daytime girl. She planted her feet firmly on the ground, refusing to budge.

"What? No! I wanna go say hi," she whined, sticking out a childish pout. "That tall guy yelled your name the other time and you didn't let me talk to him. You're so mean, Beomseokie. Come on, let's go see who they are."

"No, please!" Beomseok begged, trying to pull her.

But before he could physically stop her, she started speed-walking toward the convenience store, dragging Beomseok behind her because he didn't dare let go of her hand for fear of triggering her panic attack.

Suho was about to take a sip of his soda when he heard footsteps approaching. He looked up and almost choked on his drink.

There she was. With her bold clothes, her dark eyeliner, and that mocking smirk. And behind her, a Beomseok who looked like he was about to pass out from fear.

Sieun rested his chopsticks across his ramen cup, watching the scene with utmost attention.

The girl stopped in front of their table. She popped her free hand onto her hip, blew a bubble with her gum, and popped it with a sharp smack, looking them up and down with a defiant attitude.

"Hey, you two," she spoke. Her voice wasn't soft or sweet. It was rougher, louder, and full of confidence. It was nothing like the girl they knew from school. "Do you guys know us? The other day, you, the big guy, yelled at my Beomseokie in the street. Where do you know him from?"

Suho blinked, utterly confused. He looked at Beomseok, who had his head bowed and eyes squeezed shut, as if praying the ground would swallow him whole right then and there. Then he looked back at the girl.

"Your Beomseokie?" Suho asked, not understanding anything that was going on. "Well, of course I know him. We're in the same homeroom at school. And we know you too. You're his girlfriend. What's wrong with you? Did you bump your head or something? Why are you calling me 'big guy' when at school you call me Suho?"

The girl scrunched her nose and let out a loud, immature laugh, tugging on Beomseok's hand so he would step closer to her.

"School? I don't go to any school. How boring," she replied, inspecting her long nails with total disinterest. "And I don't know who you are, but if you're Beomseokie's friends, I guess it's fine. Hey, babe," she addressed Beomseok, yanking his arm and complaining in a spoiled tone. "I'm already bored of talking to them. Take me to karaoke. I wanna sing that song we heard yesterday. Come on, come on, come on."

She started swinging both their arms back and forth like a little girl begging for a toy, completely oblivious to the tension in the air.

Sieun watched the whole interaction. He saw how the girl swayed, he saw her rebellious attitude, her tone of voice, and then he remembered how the girl at school didn't know what they were talking about when Suho brought up the hangover.

Sieun's quick mind put the puzzle pieces together in a matter of seconds.

Sieun looked Beomseok in the eyes. Beomseok returned his gaze and, seeing that Sieun had already figured everything out, gave up completely. His shoulders slumped. He let out a long, shaky sigh, realizing he could no longer run away or hide the truth from his best friends.

"Guys..." Beomseok began, his voice so low it was practically a whisper. "I need to explain something to you. Something really important."

The girl next to him groaned in annoyance.

"Ugh, no. Are you gonna start chatting? So boring," she whined. She let go of Beomseok's hand for a second to hug his entire arm, clinging to him like glue, resting her head on his shoulder as she stared blankly down the street, chewing her gum without paying the slightest bit of attention to what they were about to say.

Beomseok swallowed hard, looking at Suho and Sieun, who were now completely serious and ready to listen.

"She... she has a personality disorder," Beomseok finally confessed, feeling a massive weight lift off his chest, even though the fear was still there. "The girl you know from school... that's her core personality. But at night, sometimes, her other personality comes out. This is the one you're seeing right now, she... acts like she's someone else."

Suho opened his mouth in surprise, understanding why she had called him "big guy" without knowing his name.

"But at school..." Suho said, connecting the dots in his head. "At school she said she didn't know what I was talking about. She said she was at home sleeping."

Beomseok nodded sadly, looking down at the girl still resting against his arm, swaying from side to side in boredom, completely ignoring them.

"She doesn't know..." Beomseok explained, his voice tight. "The daytime personality doesn't know this other one exists. She has total amnesia. When this girl takes over the body, the other one just falls asleep and doesn't remember anything the next day... She really thought she was sleeping in her bed the Friday you saw her. She wasn't lying to you."

Sieun propped his elbows on the table, looking at Beomseok with an understanding but serious expression.

"And you deal with this all by yourself every night?" Sieun asked, knowing how hard that must be for his friend.

"She's my girlfriend. I love her," Beomseok answered with a firmness that surprised the other two. He squeezed the girl's hand tightly, making sure she knew he was there. "The nighttime personality is hard to handle, she's immature and if I leave her alone for a second she panics, but she isn't bad. And the daytime girl is the most beautiful person in the world. Taking care of both of them is worth it."

The girl beside him huffed, gently tapping his chest with a closed fist.

"You guys talk too much. Talk, talk, talk. Beomseokie, my feet hurt from standing here. Karaoke, right now!" she demanded with an exaggerated pout.

Beomseok gave her a soft smile, used to her late-night tantrums. "We're going, babe. Just give me one more second."

Beomseok looked back at Suho and Sieun. His eyes, behind the thick lenses of his glasses, filled with a sincere and desperate plea.

"Please... I'm begging you please not to say anything about this to her when you see her at school," Beomseok pleaded, bowing his head slightly. "If she finds out she has this problem, that she does these things without realizing it, she would be so scared. She would suffer so much. She's too fragile for this. Please, keep the secret for me."

Suho, despite how loud and impulsive he was, knew when things were serious. He looked at the girl, who was now trying to blow an even bigger bubble with her gum, and then looked at his friend. Suho nodded, giving Beomseok a gentle clap on the shoulder.

"Of course, bro. Your secret is safe with us. Not a single word," Suho promised with a reassuring smile.

Sieun nodded as well, his face returning to its calm and stoic state.

"Don't worry, Beomseok. You can trust us," Sieun said. "And if you ever need help at night, you know you can call us."

Beomseok smiled for the first time in weeks with genuine relief. Feeling the support of his friends washed away the terror of being found out.

"Thanks, guys. Really, thank you."

"Beomseok!" the girl shrieked again, pulling him forcefully toward the street, tired of waiting. "If you don't take me to karaoke I'm gonna start walking by myself and get lost!"

It was the perfect threat, because she knew Beomseok was terrified of something happening to her. Beomseok laughed nervously and let himself be dragged by her.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" he said. "See you on Monday at school, guys!"

Suho and Sieun stayed at the convenience store table, watching the odd couple walk away down the street beneath the orange glow of the streetlamps. They watched how the girl swung their intertwined hands and how Beomseok smiled at her, watching her every step.

Despite how strange and difficult the whole situation sounded, Beomseok had found someone to protect, someone to care for with all his soul.

Hyoman was an idiot. Everyone at Eunjang, no, everyone in Yeongdeungpo knew it. He was huge, loud, abusive, and always looking for someone to mess with to feel superior.

And that afternoon, his target was Yeon Sieun.

The third-floor hallway was almost empty. Classes had ended over half an hour ago. The girl was walking toward the exit with her backpack slung over one shoulder when she heard the noise. She peeked around the corner and saw the scene. Hyoman had Sieun cornered against the lockers. Hyoman was shouting stupid crap, trying to intimidate him, jabbing Sieun's shoulder with his giant index finger.

Sieun, for his part, was completely silent. His face showed not a trace of fear, just that same bored expression he always wore. But the girl, who knew him well enough, noticed how Sieun's right hand was slowly sliding into his pants pocket, probably reaching for a pen to stab Hyoman in the neck or the eye.

Sieun was going to fight. And even though she knew Sieun was a monster when he set his mind to it, Hyoman had twice his weight and size. Panic took hold of her. She didn't want to see Sieun fight, didn't want to see him hurt, and she also didn't want him expelled for shoving a pen into that gorilla's brain.

Without thinking twice, instinct overrode reason.

She ran toward them and threw herself right in the middle, shoving Hyoman's chest with both hands to push him away from Sieun.

"Leave him alone, you idiot!" she shouted, positioning herself in front of Sieun like a human shield. "The PE teacher's coming up the stairs. If he sees you messing with another student, you're getting detention for the whole month."

Hyoman looked at her with disgust, caught off guard by the interruption. He glanced toward the stairs and clicked his tongue in annoyance. He didn't want trouble with the teachers.

"You got lucky this time, runt," Hyoman spat at Sieun before turning on his heel and stomping away down the hallway.

The girl let out all the air she'd been holding in her lungs. She turned around to face Sieun with a small, relieved smile, expecting him to say something like "thanks" or at least give her a nod.

But when she looked at him, the smile vanished from her face in an instant.

Sieun wasn't relieved. He was furious.

His eyes, normally so calm, were now shooting sparks. His jaw was clenched so tight there was a visible tic in his cheek, and the hand he had in his pocket was trembling.

"What the hell did you think you were doing?" Sieun asked. His voice wasn't a yell, but it was so cold and cutting it felt like a slap.

"What? I... I was helping you," she stammered, confused by his reaction. "Hyoman is huge, Sieun, he was going to hit you. I just wanted him to leave..."

"I didn't ask for your help!" Sieun suddenly exploded, raising his voice in a way that made her stumble back a step in shock. "You think I can't defend myself? You think I'm some useless loser who needs a girl to stand in front of a guy twice her size?"

"I didn't say that! I was just worried about you," she defended herself, feeling a knot forming in her throat.

"Then don't worry about me!" Sieun shouted, stepping toward her, his expression almost terrifying. "What do you think would've happened if Hyoman decided to hit you instead of me, huh? Did you even think about that? Stay out of my problems! If you're going to do stupid things and put yourself at risk for me, then don't come near me."

The hallway fell silent.

Sieun's words echoed off the walls. They were cruel, unfair, and straight to the heart. The girl stared at him with wide eyes. She could feel the tears threatening to spill over.

She'd only tried to protect the boy she liked, and he was treating her like she was a nuisance, like she was weak or stupid.

Sieun, seeing the glint of tears in her eyes, seemed to realize what he'd just said. His mouth opened slightly, his expression softening for a microsecond, as if he wanted to take his words back.

But her pride and her hurt were faster.

"Fine," she said, her voice trembling but steady, gripping the straps of her backpack. "You don't have to worry, Yeon Sieun. I won't come near you ever again in my damn life. Keep your problems."

She turned around and ran down the hallway, leaving him completely alone.

The following days were absolute hell.

She kept her promise to the letter. The next day, she didn't sit near him in class. When lunchtime came, instead of going to the rooftop where she always hung out with Sieun, Humin, Gotak, and Juntae, she went to eat alone in the library.

Tuesday was the same. When Sieun walked down the hallway and spotted her in the distance, she would immediately turn around and walk the other way. If they somehow ended up in the same space, she ignored him with such coldness that it made the atmosphere awkward for everyone else.

Humin noticed right away.

"Hey, Sieun," the brown-haired boy said on the rooftop Wednesday, chewing on a piece of bread. "What did you do to her? She hasn't come to eat with us for three days, and this morning I saw her hide in the girls' bathroom just so she wouldn't run into you on the stairs."

Sieun was sitting on an old wooden crate, staring at a textbook he hadn't read a single page of in the last twenty minutes. His expression was as stoic as ever, but inside, he was going absolutely insane.

He wasn't angry at her. He never had been. He was angry at himself—terrified.

When he saw the girl step in front of Hyoman, all Sieun saw was Sooho falling in the middle of the ring. He saw another person he cared about getting hurt because of him. The fear of losing someone else made him explode in anger to push her away from danger.

But his words came out as an attack on her pride, and he ended up hurting her far more.

The silence between the two of them was killing him. He missed how she always left a carton of strawberry milk on his desk in the mornings. He missed her voice. He missed her teasing him about always studying.

"It's nothing," Sieun lied, slamming the book shut. "She'll get over it."

But she didn't get over it.

Thursday came. The girl was emptying her locker at the end of classes. The sky was gray and it was starting to pour outside, making the hallways feel darker than usual.

She shut the metal door of her locker, and when she turned around, her heart nearly leaped out of her chest.

Sieun was standing there. Just a couple of meters away, blocking the path to the main stairs. His hands were in his pants pockets, his dark bangs falling over his eyes, and he was staring straight at her.

The girl felt a pang in her stomach. She missed him, of course she did, but she was still deeply hurt by the way he'd yelled at her. She pressed her lips together, grabbed her backpack, and started walking toward him, intending to pass right by him as if he were just another piece of school furniture.

But when she tried to step around him, Sieun took a step sideways, cutting her off.

She frowned and stepped to the left. Sieun moved left, blocking her again.

"Move," she grunted, without looking him in the face.

Sieun didn't budge. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't. You told me not to come near you, and that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm very good at following orders. Now, move," she demanded, her voice full of all the resentment she'd built up over those four days.

Seeing that Sieun had absolutely no intention of getting out of her way, the girl turned on her heel and started walking fast in the opposite direction, toward the old hallway where the rarely used classrooms were. She wanted to reach the back stairs to escape him.

But Sieun wasn't going to let her go this time. He started following her. His steps were silent but quick.

The girl, realizing he was chasing her, sped up almost to a trot. She entered the old hallway. It was completely empty and silent. She spotted a classroom door wide open. She figured if she went in there and exited through the back door of the same classroom, she could lose him.

She ducked into the empty classroom. The chairs were stacked up on the desks, but her plan was a total disaster.

Before she could reach the other door, she heard the sound of the main door closing behind her. And then, the unmistakable sound of the metal lock clicking shut.

She spun around.

Sieun had just locked the door. He was leaning against the wood, breathing a little harder than normal, watching her with an intensity that made her step back on pure instinct.

"What the hell are you doing, Yeon Sieun? Open the door!" she yelled, dropping her backpack onto one of the chairs.

Sieun pushed himself off the door and started walking toward her. His face was deadly serious. "I'm not opening it until you stop running from me. You've been ignoring me for four days."

"Because you told me to go to hell!" she shot back, feeling the frustration rising in her throat again. "You yelled at me. You made me feel like I was some stupid nuisance just for trying to keep that gorilla from breaking your face. And now you lock me in a classroom because I'm not paying attention to you? You're a hypocrite."

She tried to sidestep him to reach the door and undo the lock, but Sieun was much faster. In a sudden, agile movement, Sieun grabbed her by the waist with both hands. She let out a choked gasp of surprise when she felt him lift her off the floor with incredible ease, as if she weighed absolutely nothing.

Before she could protest or kick him, Sieun plopped her down onto one of the student desks.

They were face to face. With her sitting on the desk, their faces were at exactly the same height. Sieun stepped forward, positioning himself between her legs so she couldn't jump off the desk. He placed both hands on the wood, on either side of the girl's hips, completely cornering her.

"Put me down, Yeon Sieun," she demanded, her breathing ragged from the surprise and from the sudden closeness of his body. Her heart started pounding hard. She could smell the soap he used, she could almost feel the heat radiating from his body through their school uniforms.

"No," he replied, curtly.

Sieun looked her in the eyes, and for the first time all week, the girl saw that the barrier he always wore had shattered. His dark eyes looked vulnerable, tired, and desperate.

"I didn't yell at you because you were a nuisance," Sieun began, his voice dropping to a much rougher, softer tone, almost a whisper blending with the sound of the rain. "I yelled at you because I almost went insane from panic."

The girl frowned, confused, stopping her struggle. "Panic? About what?"

Sieun clenched his jaw, dropping his gaze for a second to her hands resting on the edge of the desk, before looking back into her eyes.

"When I saw you step in front of Hyoman... my mind stopped working," Sieun confessed. Every word seemed to cost him enormous effort, because he didn't like talking about his feelings. "I know how to fight. I can take hits. But you can't. Hyoman could've broken your jaw with one punch. He could've seriously hurt you. And if something had happened to you because of me... if you'd gotten hurt trying to protect me... I would've killed myself."

The girl's breath caught. All the anger she'd been feeling evaporated in a single blow, replaced by a knot of tenderness and sadness. She knew what had happened to Sieun's best friend in the past. She knew he lived with that trauma every single day of his life.

"I can't lose anyone else," Sieun continued, bringing his face a little closer to hers, his eyes shining with a painful intensity. "And least of all you. I was so scared that the only thing I knew to do was yell to push you away. I was an idiot. I was a complete asshole for how I spoke to you, and I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. But please... don't ignore me again. I swear these four days have been absolute torture."

The girl's eyes filled with tears, but this time they weren't from anger. She raised her trembling hands and, with great gentleness, cupped Sieun's face. His cheeks were a little cold, but she didn't care. She stroked his skin with her thumbs.

"You're the biggest idiot in this whole school, you know that?" she whispered, her voice cracked, but with a small smile creeping onto her lips.

Sieun let out a sigh, as if he'd been holding his breath for four straight days, and rested his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes, savoring the simple contact of her hands on his face.

"I know," he murmured. "Just... don't put yourself in danger for me again."

"And don't you ever yell at me again, because next time I'll be the one hitting you," she warned him, though the tone of her voice was pure sweetness.

Sieun opened his eyes and looked at her. Their gazes met, and in that instant, the atmosphere completely shifted. There was no more fear or anger. There was a built-up electricity that both of them had been ignoring for months.

Sieun didn't think anymore. He didn't want to talk anymore.

He tilted his head and crashed his lips against hers.

The girl let out a small gasp of surprise at the urgency of the movement, but immediately closed her eyes and kissed him back with the same intensity. Sieun released the edge of the desk and slid his hands up her waist, pulling her forcefully against his body so there wasn't a single centimeter of space between them.

The kiss was clumsy at first, full of desperation. Their teeth knocked together, but they quickly found their rhythm. Sieun kissed her as if she were oxygen and he'd been drowning all week. He parted her mouth a little more, slipping his tongue inside to deepen the kiss, tasting the faint sweetness she always had.

The girl tangled both hands in Sieun's soft, dark hair, tugging slightly at the strands at the nape of his neck, which drew a low, deep groan from the back of his throat. That sound made her legs tremble.

The empty classroom filled with the sound of the rain outside and the wet noise of their mouths kissing desperately.

Sieun was completely out of control, something extremely rare for him. His hands, always so precise, now roamed the girl's back with pure need, gripping the fabric of her uniform, sliding down to grab her firmly by the hips to keep her pressed against him on the desk.

They pulled apart just a few millimeters from the urgent lack of air, both breathing through their mouths, their chests rising and falling rapidly.

"God..." Sieun panted, staring at her swollen, wet lips, feeling his head spin in the best possible way.

"Shut up..." she whispered back, grabbing him by the lapels of his school blazer and pulling him in to kiss him again.

This time, the kiss was slower but far hotter. Sieun tilted his head, searching for a better angle, carefully biting her lower lip before sliding his tongue back in. One of the boy's hands slipped from her hip to her thigh, squeezing it over her uniform skirt, which made the girl instinctively arch her back and let out a small sigh into his mouth.

They stayed there, locked in that old classroom, kissing until their lips ached and the cold of the room disappeared completely thanks to the warmth of their bodies. All the anger of the week burned away on that desk.

When the final bell finally rang through the school speakers, signaling it was time for the janitorial staff to close the building, they had no choice but to pull apart completely.

Sieun rested his forehead against her shoulder, trying to calm his racing breath and the frantic pounding of his own heart. She stroked his back, smiling like a fool, her hair completely disheveled and her cheeks flushed.

"I guess you don't hate me anymore," Sieun murmured against her neck, pressing a quick, soft kiss to the exposed skin of her collarbone, tickling her.

"I never hated you, you idiot," she laughed, gently pushing him back by the chest so she could look at him. "But you owe me like a thousand cartons of strawberry milk for the stress you put me through."

Sieun straightened up. His bangs were still a little messy, and his lips were noticeably red, which made him look a hundred times more handsome than usual. That tiny, almost invisible smile he reserved only for her appeared on his face.

Suho was the exact definition of someone who had absolutely everything without lifting a single finger. He was handsome, popular for reasons even he didn't understand, the best fighter in the entire school, and, to her absolute misery, a natural athlete.

One day, during the physical fitness tests at the start of the year, the gym teacher made them run the hundred-meter dash. She prepared as if it were the Olympic finals. She stretched every muscle in her legs, did breathing exercises, and got into position at the starting line with flawless technique. Suho, on the other hand, had his uniform sloppy, his school shoes barely tied, was yawning loudly, and hadn't even bothered to warm up.

When the whistle blew, she ran with everything she had, pushing her body forward with the strength of years of training. But within seconds, she saw a brown blur pass by on her left side. Suho crossed the finish line nearly two full seconds before her, slowing down with a relaxed smile, not even sweating or breathing through his mouth.

"Wow, that was so fun!" he had said, scratching the back of his neck lazily, while she stayed behind, panting, feeling her pride shatter into a thousand pieces on the track floor.

From that damn day on, she developed an intense, one-sided rivalry against Ahn Suho.

She hated him. Or well, that's what her brain tried to convince her of every day. She hated that he didn't care about running. She hated that he wasn't on the school track team, that he didn't put in the slightest effort, that for him being fast was just a game while for her it was the purpose of her entire existence.

It was so infuriating to watch him do everything perfectly without trying that she simply decided to put up a wall between them.

The huge problem was that, underneath that distant facade she had so carefully constructed, she liked Ahn Suho. She liked him a lot. His bright, boyish smile drove her crazy, his loud laugh echoing through the hallways made her stomach flip, and the fierce way he defended the weaker kids from bullies was the most attractive thing in the world to her.

But her wounded pride and her massive jealousy over the guy's natural talent were far bigger than any romantic feelings she might have.

So she decided the best way to deal with Ahn Suho was to avoid him like the worst plague on earth.

A task that, unfortunately, became nearly impossible thanks to her own friends.

To most of the students at school, she was known as a girl with a cold, serious, and very distant demeanor. No one dared bother her because she always had her earbuds in or was too focused on her training. But she had a giant weakness, a soft spot she reserved for only two people: Yeon Sieun and Oh Beomseok.

She respected Sieun deeply for how calm and studious he was. They would often sit together in complete silence, him reading a massive book and her resting after a run, enjoying each other's company without needing to fill the air with words. And Beomseok... he was so shy, insecure, and quiet that her protective instincts just kicked in full force whenever he was near.

She always treated them with immense sweetness, a sweetness that left the other students with their mouths hanging open. She bought them drinks during breaks, lent them her class notes, and spoke to them in a soft voice that absolutely no one else at school knew.

It was a Thursday at lunchtime. The sun was shining brightly and the weather was pleasant. The three of them were sitting on the empty bleachers near the soccer field. She had a small smile on her face, a rare expression, as she pulled things out of her bag.

"You should eat a little more, Beomseok," she said, handing him a sweet melon bun she'd bought especially for him at the cafeteria. "You've been looking really thin lately. If you don't eat well, you're going to faint and you won't have any energy for afternoon classes."

Beomseok blushed a little, nervously adjusting his glasses, but took the plastic-wrapped bun with a shy, grateful smile. "Th-thank you. You're always so kind..."

Sieun, who was sitting to his left reading a thick history book, glanced up for a second. Without a single word, she pulled a carton of strawberry milk from her backpack and placed it directly on his lap. Sieun blinked slowly, looked at the pink carton, and then looked at her.

"Thank you," Sieun murmured, in his usual monotone, emotionless voice, but she knew perfectly well he appreciated it.

The atmosphere among the three of them was perfect. It was a safe, quiet space. Until a shout, full of energy and enthusiasm, shattered the peace of the field.

"SIEUN-AH! BEOMSEOK! There you are, I've been looking everywhere for you!"

The metal fence gate surrounding the field burst open. Ahn Suho came walking toward them in his typical sloppy uniform, shirt untucked, a giant smile lighting up the whole area, and that hyperactive puppy energy that defined him so well.

The exact instant she heard his voice, the sweet smile on her face vanished completely. It was like someone had flipped a light switch. Her expression immediately turned cold, tense, and distant. She grabbed her backpack from the concrete floor almost on pure instinct.

Suho climbed the bleachers taking the steps two at a time, without the slightest effort. When he saw her sitting there with his two best friends, his dark eyes lit up with excitement. Suho had always been incredibly drawn to that girl. He found it fascinating how serious she was, how hard she worked running on the track every single day, and, above all, he loved how beautiful she looked when the wind ruffled her hair.

He genuinely, truly wanted to be her friend. He wanted to get close to her, he wanted to make her laugh the way she did with Beomseok, but he couldn't figure out why she always treated him like garbage.

"Hi!" Suho greeted her first, stopping in front of the bleachers and running a hand through his messy hair. "What a coincidence finding you here too. Are you all having lunch together? I brought a couple of sandwiches from the store, we can share and—"

She didn't let him finish. She stood up abruptly, slinging the heavy backpack onto her right shoulder.

"I just remembered I have important things to do," she said, her voice flat, staring at a fixed point on the wall so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye. "I'm going to the track to train alone. See you later, Sieun, Beomseok."

She didn't wait for any of the three to answer. She went down the bleachers quickly, passing right by Suho, brushing his shoulder but completely ignoring his existence, and walked away fast toward the other side of the school campus.

Suho stood there on the stairs, his hand still half-extended offering the bag of sandwiches, blinking a few times in pure confusion. His bright smile deflated completely, his shoulders dropping, looking like a big puppy who'd just been scolded for absolutely no reason. He let his arm fall to his side and let out a long sigh, dropping heavily into the spot on the bleachers she'd just left empty.

"What did I do wrong this time?" Suho asked, looking at Sieun with genuine frustration on his face. "I didn't even say anything bad to her. I swear. I just said hi and offered food. Why does she hate me so much? I swear I always try to be nice to her. Yesterday I bought her a drink and she told me she wasn't thirsty, but five minutes later I saw her drinking water from the fountain tap!"

Beomseok looked down at the ground, fidgeting with the bun wrapper, feeling bad for the guy but not knowing what to say to comfort him. Sieun closed his history book, took a sip of strawberry milk through the straw, and looked at Suho with his typical bored, direct expression.

"It's pretty obvious why she avoids you all the time," Sieun said, getting straight to the point the way he always did.

"Why? Tell me! If I'm too loud, I can be quieter. If she doesn't like the way I smell, I can change soap or wear cologne. I just want her to talk to me the way she talks to you two!" Suho complained, letting himself fall backward on the bleachers, staring at the clouds in the sky with desperation. "I like her so much. I really, really like her. But I feel like if I take one single step closer to her, she's going to punch me right in the face."

Sieun sighed softly, shaking his head. "She doesn't hate you because you're loud or annoying, Suho. She avoids you because you're faster than her without even trying. Her ego is wounded because she works incredibly hard and you don't. You have to fix this yourself; we can't get involved in that."

Suho fell silent, thinking about those words for the rest of the afternoon, processing the information in his mind.

The next day, fate seemed to decide it wanted to make things even more tense between them.

It was the last class block of the day: PE. The teacher, a man who loved competitions, had organized relay races and speed trials on the school's official track. She was wearing her black athletic shorts, her white moisture-wicking t-shirt, and her running shoes laced tight. She was sweating, stretching, and warming up her leg muscles, ready to give it her all on the track.

But when the teacher paired everyone up for the big final 400-meter race, she felt the blood boil in her veins.

She was set to run, once again, against Ahn Suho.

Suho walked slowly toward the white starting line painted on the tartan track. He was wearing the school gym uniform, but as always, he looked like he was taking a stroll in the park. He glanced at her sideways and gave her a small, nervous, guilty smile, trying to be friendly and soften the obvious tension radiating off her.

She ignored him. She locked her gaze on the curved track stretching out ahead of her. Not today, she thought furiously, clenching her fists so hard her nails dug into her palms. Today I'll break my damn legs if I have to, I'll cough up blood, but I am not letting this idiot beat me again while he yawns.

"On your marks..." the teacher shouted, raising the whistle.

She crouched down, pressing her fingertips onto the rough ground, lifting her hips into the perfect starting position. Suho, beside her, simply stayed standing, bending his knees slightly with zero technique.

"Go!"

The sound of the whistle cut through the air. She shot forward like a bullet out of a cannon. Her sneakers slammed against the tartan track. She used absolutely all her technique, remembering every tip from her coach: every measured breath, every arm movement calculated to perfection to cut through wind resistance, driving her knees up with power. She was leading the race.

But when she hit the 200-meter curve, she heard the sound of footsteps right behind her. They weren't heavy footsteps. They weren't the footsteps of someone getting tired. They were light. Surprisingly quick and rhythmic.

Suho pulled up alongside her in the outer lane. She couldn't help but glance at him sideways for a split second.

He wasn't breathing desperately through his mouth. He didn't look like he was suffering at all. He was just running, keeping exactly the same pace as her with a natural ease that sent a sharp pain through the pit of her stomach. It was infuriating.

The sheer frustration instantly turned into pure fuel for her body. She gritted her teeth until her jaw hurt and forced her body to go far beyond its physical limit. Her lungs burned as if she were swallowing fire, and her calves screamed in pain. There were barely fifty meters left to the finish line. Suho was beside her, nearly shoulder to shoulder, but she refused to give in. She wasn't going to let him win. Not this time. Not in front of the whole class.

She closed her eyes for a microsecond, gave one last desperate push, and lunged forward, breaking the wind with her chest.

She crossed the finish line.

An instant, barely a fraction of a second later, Suho crossed it.

She collapsed to the ground immediately, bracing her hands on her trembling knees, breathing loudly and desperately. She was dizzy, her vision was a little blurry, and she was drenched in cold sweat, but she had done it. She had won. She had beaten Ahn Suho for the first time in her life.

She expected, knowing guys their age, that he'd be angry. She expected him to complain loudly, to kick the ground, or to demand a rematch right away because his fragile guy ego was wounded.

But when she looked up, still trying to catch her breath, she saw Suho walking toward her. He was barely panting a little, running a hand through his messy hair. He had a huge, bright, and completely genuine smile on his sweaty face.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, stopping a couple of meters in front of her, clapping a few times with childish and sincere enthusiasm. "You were incredible today! You're super fast, seriously! I swear, I tried to keep up with you at the end but you completely left me behind. Congratulations, that was awesome to watch!"

That reaction. That damn reaction was the straw that broke the camel's back of all her frustrations.

That happy, totally carefree attitude shattered her on the inside. He didn't care in the slightest about having lost. He didn't care about running, he didn't care about the competition. He was just clapping and smiling at her as if the whole thing were a stupid children's game.

For her, winning that race had cost pain, hours of practice, cramps at dawn, and constant sacrifices. For him, losing meant absolutely nothing.

The hatred, the jealousy, the frustration, and that stupid secret crush she had on him mixed together in her chest, creating a fireball until she felt a horrible urge to cry from pure rage and helplessness.

She didn't say thank you. She didn't even spare him a small victorious smile.

She straightened up as best she could, shot him a look full of contempt and fury, and walked straight toward the PE equipment room, searching for a dark, empty place to hide from the world and from him.

Suho stood frozen in the middle of the track, arms at his sides. The bright smile vanished completely from his face, replaced by a grimace of worry. He watched the girl walk away at a fast pace, her shoulders tense and her fists clenched.

The advice Sieun had given him the day before echoed loudly in his head. You have to fix this yourself.

Suho clenched his jaw, left his classmates murmuring behind his back, and walked with quick, long, determined strides after her.

She reached the equipment room, a small, dusty room that smelled of rubber, full of blue gym mats, worn-out basketballs, and stacked plastic cones. She went in quickly, trying to calm her still-labored breathing and wipe away with the back of her hand the stupid tears of frustration that threatened to spill from her eyes.

But before she could even relax for a second in the darkness, the heavy metal door slammed shut behind her with a dry thud. She jumped in fright and spun around quickly.

Ahn Suho was standing in front of the closed door. He was no longer smiling. His expression was completely serious, and there was a shadow of frustration in his dark eyes that she had never, in all the time she'd known him, seen before. He was much taller than her, and standing there in the cramped space, blocking the only exit from the room, he looked incredibly intimidating.

"Let me out of here, Ahn Suho," she demanded, trying to make her voice sound cold and authoritative, though it trembled a little from the leftover exhaustion of the race and the lump in her throat.

Suho didn't move a single inch. He leaned his broad back against the metal door and crossed his arms, blocking the way completely.

"No. I'm not letting you out until you tell me what the hell your problem with me is once and for all."

"I don't have a problem with you. Move away from the door right now."

She walked toward him, ready to shove him aside to reach the handle, but Suho was much faster. He grabbed her wrist firmly, without hurting her, but with enough strength to stop her in her tracks. He made her step back toward the center of the room.

"Okay, enough of this," he said, raising his voice a little, letting the frustration come to light. "What did I do to you? Tell me, please, just tell me what I did to make you treat me like this every single day. I swear on my life all I've ever tried to do is be your friend. I try to get close to you, I talk to you politely, I try to include you in plans, and you look at me like I'm the worst piece of trash walking around this school. You run away from me like I have a contagious disease, but then I watch from a distance how you smile and are so sweet with Sieun and Beomseok. Why can't I get that too? Why do you hate me so much?"

She stood frozen in place. Suho was genuinely hurt. His voice sounded desperate and broken.

She tried to free herself from his grip, pulling her arm, but he didn't let go.

"Because it's unfair!" she burst out suddenly. Her voice echoed off the walls of the small equipment room, full of anger, resentment, and tears. "Because it's fucking unfair!"

Suho was so shocked by her outburst that he loosened his grip on her wrist almost immediately, but he stood firm in front of the door. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how I kill myself training every single damn day, Ahn Suho!" she yelled at him, shoving his chest with both hands with all her strength, making him stumble back half a step until his back hit the metal. "I get up at five in the morning to run alone in the cold! Every single muscle in my body hurts all the time! I diet, I train until I want to throw up from the effort, I dedicate my whole life, every second of my free time, to being the fastest on that track. For me, running isn't a hobby, it's not a gym class game. It's everything I have!"

She was breathing heavily, and thick tears began to roll down her flushed cheeks without her being able or willing to stop them. She was sick of hiding.

"And then you show up..." she continued, her voice dropping, cracking into a sob full of pure helplessness. "You show up to the track dragging your feet, yawning from sleep, not even warming up for a minute, in your stupid regular shoes... and you're faster than me. You're better than me without even really trying. Everything comes easy to you. You're the perfect guy, the best fighter, the fastest. You don't put in effort, you don't care at all, and you still beat me every time. And today... today when I finally felt like I broke my legs managing to beat you, what do you do? You applaud me like it's a damn joke! It didn't even hurt you to lose!"

Suho stared at her with wide eyes, completely in shock. Never, in all the time they'd been crossing paths in the hallways, had it occurred to him that that was the real reason behind her constant rejection. He had thought of a thousand reasons: that she disliked his loud personality, that she considered him a delinquent for fighting, not that his natural talent for sports was hurting her this deeply.

"I hate it..." she whispered, lowering her head, feeling pathetic, envious, and small for crying a river in front of him. "I hate that you're so perfect. I hate that you make me feel like all my damn effort is worth absolutely nothing next to your natural talent. And what I hate most... is that despite all of this, I can't help liking you so much."

The equipment room fell silent. The only sound was her small sobs, her face now covered with both hands, ashamed of having let the last confession slip out in a fit of hysteria. She wrapped her arms around herself, waiting for Suho to laugh at her. She expected him to tell her she was crazy, that she was an immature, envious brat, and to open the door and leave and never speak a word to her again.

"I didn't know..." Suho finally murmured. His voice was incredibly soft now, stripped of all frustration.

"Well, now you do. Now let me out of here," she pleaded, her voice broken, not daring to lift her gaze from the floor.

But Suho didn't move toward the handle. Instead, he took a step forward. He closed the small distance between them until he was millimeters from her trembling body.

He lifted a large hand and, with a gentleness that didn't fit at all with the guy who threw punches with bare knuckles if someone made him angry enough, dried a tear from her left cheek with the pad of his thumb. The contact of his warm skin against hers made her breath catch in her throat.

"You're wrong about something really important," Suho said, looking her straight in the teary eyes with an intensity that made her shiver completely. "Today, in the race, I wasn't faking it. I gave my hundred percent in the final meters. I tried to catch up to you with everything I had, I swear, but I just couldn't. You beat me fair and square."

She opened her eyes wide, surprised, her damp lashes trembling. "What?"

"You beat me," he repeated, with a small, proud, sincere smile that lit up his features. "Because I might have a bit of genetics and natural talent for moving fast, but I don't have your endurance. I don't have your technique, and I definitely don't have your willpower. You built your speed by breaking your back every single day under the sun. I could never, not in a million years, do what you do. That's why I clapped for you at the finish line. I swear I wasn't making fun of you. I was amazed. I've always admired you so much for how hard you work."

She was speechless. All the rage she'd been accumulating for months in her chest began to evaporate, exposing the real feeling she had tried to bury under layers of anger.

Suho lowered his hand from her cheek and took her left hand, intertwining his long fingers with hers slowly, securing the grip.

"Besides... I'm far from being perfect," he continued, lowering his voice to a rough whisper, leaning a little closer until she could smell his cologne mixed with the sweat from the race. "I'm a total idiot most of the time, I talk too much, and I'm always getting into trouble. And I've been suffering for months, feeling like a total loser, because the most incredible, most beautiful girl in the entire school ran away from me every time I tried to just say a simple hello."

Her heart leaped inside her ribcage. "You..." she stammered, feeling an immense heat rising up her neck and staining her cheeks red.

"I thought you genuinely hated me," Suho whispered, dropping his gaze to her parted lips for a second before looking back into her dark eyes.

The proximity, his confession, and the sweet way he was holding her hand made her stupid wall of pride collapse completely and turn to dust. She couldn't keep lying anymore. She didn't want to keep running from him anymore.

"I don't hate you, Suho..." she confessed, her voice barely a trembling murmur in the closed room. "I've never actually hated you."

Suho arched an eyebrow, a small, mischievous smile creeping up the corner of his lips, bringing back a bit of his usual playful attitude. "Oh, no? Then why do you always look like you want to stab me whenever I show up with the guys?"

She let out a small, nervous laugh, feeling incredibly stupid for her childish behavior, but at the same time immensely freed from the weight she'd been carrying.

"Because... I hate that I like you so much and that, at the same time, you make me feel like a loser when we run together. I wanted to hate you. For my brain, it was much easier to make up that I hated you than to admit out loud that every time you smile I feel like I can't breathe."

Suho's reaction was immediate and spectacular.

Sheer surprise lit up his face completely. His eyes opened impossibly wide, shining with a mix of shock, relief, and a happiness so huge it seemed like it didn't fit in his own body. The hyperactive, strong, loud guy was, for the first time, at a loss for words.

"Wait a second..." Suho swallowed audibly, squeezing her hand tighter. "You like me? You meant that? You really like me?"

She nodded slowly, biting her lower lip, too embarrassed to dare say it out loud a third time.

Suho let out a raspy laugh, not mocking, but of pure, absolute disbelief. He let go of her hand, but only so he could lift both arms and cup her face between his large, warm hands.

"Damn it, I lost entire months of my life thinking you wanted to murder me in my sleep," he murmured, his face just inches from hers. His smile was so big it wrinkled the corners of his eyes from sheer happiness.

Before she could process what was happening or respond to the joke, Suho leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers with urgency.

It was a quick and cautious kiss at first, as if he were testing the waters, making sure it was real and not a dream. But when he felt her close her eyes, sigh softly, and kiss him back shyly, lifting her own hands to cling to his broad shoulders, the kiss changed. It turned much deeper, desperate, and comforting. Suho's hands caressed her cheeks with his thumbs, pulling her body closer to his, making her completely forget the smell of dust and cheap plastic in the equipment room, making her forget the exhaustion from the race.

In that instant, the entire universe shrank down to Ahn Suho, the guy who drove her crazy, the talented guy, and the guy who, without even having to try, had stolen her heart completely.

When they finally had to pull apart from lack of air, both were breathing heavily, but Suho couldn't wipe the goofy grin off his face. He leaned his forehead against hers, tenderly stroking her dark hair, still damp with sweat.

"Starting today, I promise to run way slower if it means you won't run away from me during breaks," he whispered, joking under his breath, his eyes half-closed.

She gave him a small punch to the chest with her closed fist, though she couldn't help smiling too, feeling a warmth in her stomach. "If you dare let me win on purpose, I swear on my life I'll break your nose myself, Ahn Suho. I want you to run with everything you've got. And I guarantee I'll keep beating you fair and square."

Suho let out another bright, loud laugh, stealing another quick kiss from her lips.

Geum Seongje was, in every sense of the word, completely deranged.

Everyone in the district knew it. The thugs from other schools trembled just hearing his name. His reputation in the Union, under Na Baekjin's command, was built on broken bones and sadistic smiles.

Seongje enjoyed violence. He enjoyed the sound of someone's nose breaking under his fist. He had no empathy, no mercy, and definitely no patience.

But there was one exception to all his twisted rules. Just one.

Her.

Their relationship was the best-kept secret in all of Seoul. No one in the Union, not even his closest subordinates, knew she existed. Seongje had personally made sure of that.

In his world, showing weakness was a death sentence. If his enemies discovered that the great Geum Seongje had a girlfriend, they would go after her without hesitation to use her against him.

And Seongje couldn't allow that. Because she wasn't part of his world.

She went to a different school, an academy that seemed quiet and normal. She was shy, studious, and whenever she was with him, she always wore a sweet smile. Seongje saw her as something fragile, something pure that he needed to keep far away from the blood and filth of his own life.

That's why his dates were always low-profile: late-night walks, dinners in distant restaurants, or nights in his apartment where no one could bother her.

He cared for her in his own rough but possessive way. And she always told him everything was fine. That school was going great, that her classes were boring but peaceful.

But it was all a damn lie.

And Seongje was about to find out in the worst possible way.

It was Thursday afternoon. Seongje was in a foul mood.

He had gone to collect money from a group of idiots who were late with their Union payments. Coincidentally, the meeting spot was just a few blocks from her school. He finished quickly, breaking a couple of ribs to make the message clear, and sent his subordinates back.

He decided to stay a while. Leaning against the wall of a filthy alley, he lit a cigarette, exhaling gray smoke into the cloudy sky. He thought about texting her to meet later, since she was nearby.

But before he could pull out his phone, he heard noises coming from behind an abandoned building at the end of the alley.

Teenage voices. Mocking laughter, a dull thud, and the sound of coins hitting the ground.

Seongje rolled his eyes. He hated kids playing at being thugs. Normally, he would have ignored them. It wasn't his problem if some losers were fighting over lunch money.

"This is all you brought?" a shrill, annoying girl's voice rang out. "I told you I wanted the cream bread from the downtown bakery, stupid. Are you deaf or just an idiot?"

"I-I'm sorry… they were sold out…" came a trembling, timid reply.

The cigarette nearly slipped from Seongje's fingers.

That voice.

He froze. His brain short-circuited for a split second. He knew that voice perfectly. It was the same voice that said "good morning" on the phone, the same voice that laughed at his sarcastic comments.

He dropped the cigarette and walked silently toward the back of the building, hiding behind a dumpster to see what was happening.

What he saw made his blood freeze, then boil.

There she was.

Kneeling on the dirty concrete. Her uniform stained with dust. In front of her stood four of her classmates: two girls and two boys. One boy was rummaging through her backpack, tossing her notebooks to the ground, while the leader girl sneered at her, clutching the little money she had.

She was the perfect target. The errand girl. The punching bag. She was the victim everyone trampled at school.

"You're useless," the girl spat, slapping her across the left cheek.

The sound echoed through the alley.

She lowered her head, curling into herself, trembling with fear. She didn't fight back. She didn't scream. She just let them hit her, as if she were completely used to it. As if it was her daily routine.

Seongje felt the world stop.

His mind filled with questions. Why hadn't she told him? Why did she always smile when he asked about school? How long had she been enduring this while he thought she was safe?

But the questions vanished quickly, replaced by something far more familiar to Geum Seongje: murderous, sadistic, uncontrollable rage.

One of the boys raised his foot to kick her in the stomach, mocking her.

But the blow never landed.

Before his foot could touch her, Seongje burst from hiding. With terrifying speed, he grabbed the boy by the collar and slammed him against the brick wall.

The impact was brutal. The boy spat blood instantly and collapsed, clutching his head and groaning in pain.

Silence fell over the alley.

She looked up, tears in her eyes, her cheek red, and felt her heart stop.

It was Seongje.

He was there. He had seen everything.

The other three froze, pale with terror. They recognized the jacket, the hair, and above all, the twisted, psychotic smile on Seongje's face.

"Well, well…" Seongje said, cracking his knuckles slowly. "Looks like the trash from this school has too much free time."

"G-Geum Seongje?!" stammered the other boy, backing into the trash cans. "W-we didn't do anything! We don't have problems with the Union!"

Seongje let out a dark, humorless laugh. He didn't look at them. He looked down at her.

She was paralyzed. The fear she felt for the bullies was nothing compared to the absolute panic of Seongje seeing her like this. Her biggest secret, her deepest shame, had just been exposed.

She knew how pathetic she was. She knew she was a coward who let herself be humiliated like a stray dog.

"No problems with the Union…" Seongje repeated, dragging out the words. Then he lifted his gaze, his eyes turning into black pits of madness. "But you've got a very, very big problem with me."

Without warning, he lunged forward. He grabbed the boy by the hair and kneed him in the face. The sound of cartilage breaking was sickening. The boy collapsed unconscious instantly.

The two girls screamed, trying to run.

But Seongje had no mercy. Not even for girls. He grabbed the leader by her backpack and threw her to the ground with brutal force. He leaned over, gripping her collar and lifting her slightly off the floor.

"What's wrong?" Seongje whispered, his sadistic smile inches from her terrified face. "Not so tough now? Where's that strength you use to slap people?"

"Please! Let me go!" she cried desperately.

Seongje looked at her with disgust and tossed her aside like garbage. He kicked her ribs, knocking the air out of her.

"Look at her again… breathe near her again, and next time I won't just break your face. I'll rip out your eyes and make you eat them," Seongje warned coldly. Those still conscious nodded frantically, crawling away like cockroaches.

When the bullies disappeared, limping and crying, silence returned.

Seongje stood with his back to her for a few seconds, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to control the adrenaline and the urge to keep beating someone to death.

She was still on the ground, trembling uncontrollably, tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn't dare make a sound.

She waited for the moment he turned, looked at her with disgust, and told her that she made him sick. That she was a loser he didn't want anymore.

Seongje turned slowly.

He walked toward her. His footsteps echoed on the concrete.

He stopped in front of her. His tall, threatening figure cast a shadow. She shrank further, closing her eyes tightly, bracing for cruel words.

But instead, Seongje let out a long, heavy sigh. He crouched down, and without a word, took her arms and lifted her carefully.

"Seongje… I…" her voice broke into a sob.

"Shut up. Don't talk here," he cut her off sharply, making her flinch.

He picked up her notebooks, stuffed them back into her bag, slung it over his shoulder, grabbed her hand firmly, and pulled her out of the alley toward the car Na Baekjin had given him for "work," though Seongje clearly didn't care what it was for.

He opened the passenger door, pushed her gently inside, then got into the driver's seat.

He started the engine, locked the doors, and sped off.

Seongje drove fast, gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. His jaw was tense. He hadn't looked at her once since leaving the alley.

She sat curled up, hugging her knees, crying silently. Shame consumed her.

She had spent months pretending to be normal around him. Seongje was feared, strong, untouchable. What would he think now? She knew perfectly well. He'd think she was pathetic. A victim, good for nothing but errands. Surely he'd leave her. How could the great Geum Seongje be with the school's punching bag?

Finally, Seongje stopped abruptly near the Han River. He killed the engine.

The silence inside the car was suffocating.

"Explain," Seongje suddenly said. His voice was low, grave, demanding.

She swallowed hard, unable to meet his eyes. Her trembling hands were all she could look at.

"I'm sorry…" she managed between sobs. "I-I know you're going to leave me… I know I disgust you…"

Seongje frowned. He turned fully toward her, resting one arm on the back of her seat.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused and angry.

"That I'm pathetic!" she burst out, finally lifting her tear-filled eyes to his. "You saw it, Seongje! I'm a loser! I let them hit me, steal my money, treat me like trash. I don't fight back. I'm a punching bag. I'm exactly the kind of person you always mock!"

Silence filled the car again. Seongje stared at her, analyzing every word, every tear sliding down her face.

"And why the hell didn't you tell me?" he demanded, raising his voice slightly. "We've been together for months. I always ask how you're doing. You always say everything's perfect! Why did you lie to my face?"

"Because I was scared!" she cried, breaking down even more. "I was scared that if you found out, you'd think I'm weak and boring. You're strong, Seongje. Everyone fears you. If you knew I was the girl everyone humiliates… you'd be ashamed of me. You'd pity me."

At her confession, Seongje's expression shifted.

The fury he'd felt toward the bullies faded for a moment, replaced by frustration—and something else.

Something he almost never felt: guilt.

He had thought he was protecting her by keeping her hidden. He thought his world was the only dangerous one. It had never crossed his mind that in her "boring" school, parasites were making her life hell, and she was enduring it alone out of fear of his reaction.

He cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair in desperation.

Then he leaned forward, unbuckled her seatbelt in one swift motion, and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her tightly across the console.

The movement was so sudden she let out a small gasp, but the moment she felt his strong, warm arms around her, she collapsed completely, burying her face in his neck, sobbing until she couldn't breathe.

"You're a complete idiot…" Seongje whispered near her ear. His voice was still rough, but the way he held her, crushing her against his chest as if she were the most precious thing in the world, said otherwise.

"I-I'm sorry…" she cried.

"Shut up. Don't apologize for this," he scolded, his hand clumsy but firm as it stroked her hair. "Listen carefully, because I won't repeat it. I don't care if you're weak. I don't care if you can't fight. That's my job. I'm the monster, I'm the one who breaks bones. Got it?"

She pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes, still hiccupping from the sobs.

"But… don't I make you… ashamed?"

Seongje snorted, wiping her tears with his thumbs, careful when he touched the red mark on her cheek. Seeing it made his jaw clench with rage again.

"The only thing that pisses me off is that you didn't tell me sooner," he admitted. "It makes me sick to think of all the times those bastards touched you and I wasn't there to rip their arms off. Ashamed of you? Don't say stupid things. You're mine. You're the only thing in this damn world that really matters to me. And nobody—absolutely nobody—has the right to trample what's mine."

His words were raw, possessive, even frightening, but coming from Geum Seongje, they were the deepest, most sincere declaration of love possible.

He didn't judge her for being weak. On the contrary, his violent instinct to protect had ignited completely—just for her.

"Seongje… I don't want you to get into trouble at my school…" she murmured, feeling safer in his arms but still worried.

He smirked. That cold, dangerous smirk that defined him.

"Too late for that. Those idiots I left in the alley already got the message. But just in case, tomorrow I'm paying your school a little visit during lunch break," he said calmly, which was even more terrifying. "I'll make sure the whole damn academy knows who you belong to. No one will ever look at you wrong again. And if they do, I'll burn that school down with them inside."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "No! You can't burn the school!"

Seongje laughed. A rough, genuine laugh. He cupped her face and kissed her deeply, leaving her breathless and wiping away all her insecurities in one stroke.

"It was a metaphor. More or less…" he teased, brushing his nose against hers. "But I mean it. No more secrets. No more hiding you to protect you. Clearly, hiding didn't work. From now on, everyone's going to know you're mine. Let's see if anyone in this city is suicidal enough to lay a finger on you once they know Geum Seongje is your boyfriend."

She felt a massive weight lift off her shoulders. She leaned against his chest again, closing her eyes.

For the first time in months, she wasn't afraid anymore.

"Thank you, Seongje…" she whispered.

"You'd better not hide anything from me again, or I'll punish you myself," he warned, kissing her forehead. "And tomorrow you're giving me the list of names of everyone who treated you badly. Every single one."

"Seongje, it's not necessary, you scared them enough today…"

"Not negotiable," he snapped, starting the car again. "We're going to my place. I'll put ice on that cheek. And then you're going to eat properly, because I'm sure those parasites stole your lunch."

She smiled faintly, nodding as she settled back into the seat.

The school cafeteria was always a noisy mess, with the sound of metal trays clattering against plastic tables, students shouting over the last pieces of cake, and the echo of conversations blending into a constant buzz that gave anyone a headache.

But she didn’t mind the noise. She was sitting at her usual table, trying to focus on her lunch. In front of her was Sooho, her best friend, devouring his second tray of food as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

Sooho’s mouth was full of rice and meat, but that didn’t stop him from talking nonstop.

She stirred her soup with her chopsticks, distracted, her gaze drifting toward the cafeteria entrance every few seconds, searching for a particular figure.

A slightly shorter boy, with dark brown hair, slouched shoulders, and an expression that was always neutral. Yeon Sieun.

Sooho, who seemed focused only on his food, actually had the eyes of a hawk. He swallowed his bite, took a huge gulp of water, and slammed his cup down with a mocking grin.

“Your eyes are going to fall out if you keep staring at the door,” Sooho said, resting his chin on his hand. “Who are you waiting for so desperately? Santa Claus?”

She jumped in her seat, startled, her cheeks heating up. She quickly lowered her gaze to her soup.

“I wasn’t looking at the door,” she lied, trying to sound casual, though her voice came out higher than usual. “I was just thinking about… the history exam. Yeah. The history exam.”

Sooho burst out laughing, loud enough that a couple of students nearby turned to look.

“Please. You’re terrible at lying,” Sooho said, pointing his chopsticks at her face. “You’re waiting for Sieun. Again. Like every single day.”

“Shut up, Sooho!” she hissed, wide-eyed, panicking that someone might have overheard. “Don’t say it so loud.”

“Why not?” Sooho shrugged, clearly enjoying himself. “Everyone knows you’ve got that weird crush on him. It’s so obvious even the teachers notice. You turn red every time he breathes near you.”

“That’s not true. We’re friends. I see him as a friend,” she tried to defend herself, crossing her arms, though she knew it was a useless lie.

Sooho rolled his eyes, popped a sausage into his mouth, and kept going. Teasing her was his favorite pastime after eating and sleeping.

“Seriously, I don’t get it,” Sooho said, leaning forward with exaggerated confusion. “What exactly do you see in that guy?”

She frowned. “What do you mean, what do I see?”

“I mean it,” Sooho lowered his voice but kept his mocking tone. “It’s Yeon Sieun. He doesn’t talk unless he has to. He never smiles. He spends all day buried in physics or math books. He looks pale enough to have anemia, he’s short, and if the wind blows too hard, he might fall over… though yeah, we all know he hits like a maniac, but that’s not the point.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” she snapped, indignation flaring in her chest.

“It’s the truth!” Sooho laughed at her protective reaction. “He has no sense of humor. If you tell him a joke, he looks at you like you’re a lab rat that escaped its cage. He doesn’t get hints. He doesn’t care about girls, video games, or junk food. He only cares about grades and sleep. Do you really like someone that boring?”

That was the limit.

She could handle Sooho mocking her feelings. She could handle him saying she was obvious. But she wasn’t going to let him insult Yeon Sieun.

She dropped her chopsticks onto her tray with a sharp clatter, pressed her palms flat against the table, and leaned forward, her eyes blazing. Sooho blinked, surprised.

Then she started talking. Or rather, she launched into a completely unhinged monologue.

“You don’t know anything, Ahn Sooho,” she said, her voice rising without her realizing, forgetting they were in the middle of a crowded cafeteria. “Yeon Sieun isn’t weird. And he’s not boring! He’s the most incredible, fascinating, perfect person in this stupid school.”

Sooho’s mouth fell open, unsure whether to laugh or be scared.

“What do I see in him? I see everything!” she went on, waving her hands, months of bottled-up feelings spilling out. “First of all, his face. Have you even looked at his face properly? He’s gorgeous! Those big dark eyes, always so focused, and when he looks at you, it feels like he can read your soul. His lashes are so long. He’s adorable! He looks like an angry kitten all the time, and that makes him a million times more attractive!”

Sooho raised his eyebrows, sipping his juice, enjoying the show.

“And it’s not just his face!” she kept going, breathless. “I love how he is. I love that he’s quiet, because when he talks, you know it matters. I love that he’s so smart. It’s sexy. Do you know how sexy it is to watch someone solve a three-line math equation without blinking? It’s too much for me!”

She clutched her chest dramatically, her cheeks blazing red.

“You say he doesn’t smile, but that’s not true. I’ve seen him smile. It’s tiny, almost invisible, just for a second, but when you catch it, it feels like winning the lottery. And he’s so protective. He has a huge, loyal heart hidden behind that serious face.”

Sooho set his cup down, his mocking grin fading. He wasn’t looking at her anymore.

But she didn’t notice. She was at the peak of her frenzy, adrenaline pushing her confession out loud.

“I like him,” she admitted, fists clenched. “I like him so much I feel like I’m going crazy. He’s so damn cute I want to wrap him in a blanket and hide him in my room so no one else can see him. I don’t want any other girl near him. Sometimes I wish I could drop to my knees in the hallway, pull out a candy ring from a vending machine, propose to him right there, and make him mine forever! I want to marry him, Sooho! I want him to be my husband!”

She exhaled in a huge sigh, finally empty. Relief washed over her.

She leaned back in her chair, breathing hard. “Wow… I needed to say that out loud.”

She looked at Sooho, expecting him to laugh hysterically, call her crazy, or send her to therapy.

But Sooho wasn’t laughing. He was frozen, eyes wide, mouth open, chopsticks dropped.

And he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was locked on the space behind her shoulder.

Confused, she waved a hand in front of his face. “Sooho? What’s wrong? Did I say something too weird? Okay, yeah, the kidnapping and marriage part sounded intense, but you know me, I exaggerate…”

Sooho swallowed hard, then pointed behind her. “You… you should turn around.”

Her heart stopped. Slowly, like in a horror movie, she turned her head.

And there he was.

Less than half a meter away, standing right behind her chair, holding a tray of food. Yeon Sieun.

His posture was the same as always, shoulders slightly hunched, uniform neat. But his face…

He was staring at her, eyes wider than usual, lips pressed tight. His knuckles were white around the tray.

And worst of all, the tips of his ears were bright red.

He had heard everything.

Every single word.

The silence stretched for what felt like centuries.

Her soul left her body. Her brain short-circuited. She wanted the ground to swallow her whole.

She had to say something. Anything.

“H-hi, Sieun,” she squeaked, her voice like a terrified mouse.

Sieun blinked, glanced at his tray, then at Sooho—who was covering his mouth to keep from laughing—and finally back at her.

“Hi,” Sieun said, calm as always, though his ears betrayed him.

Act natural! her brain screamed.

She grabbed her chopsticks with trembling hands, picked up a big piece of kimbap, and shoved it into her mouth, planning to smile and pretend she’d been talking about an actor.

But panic betrayed her. The rice went down the wrong way.

She choked. Violently.

Coughing, clutching her throat, face turning purple.

Sooho jumped up. “Hey! Are you okay?!”

She couldn’t speak, tears streaming, pounding her chest.

Sooho slapped her back hard, nearly knocking her into her soup, but it worked. She gasped for air, wheezing, eyes watery.

“Drink water, idiot!” Sooho shoved a cup at her.

She gulped it down, coughing, alive but mortified.

“Just let me die,” she groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “Please, Sooho, hit me with a tray and let me die here.”

Sooho, relieved she wasn’t choking anymore, burst into uncontrollable laughter, doubling over.

She stayed hidden in her hands while Sooho laughed like a maniac in the middle of the cafeteria.

Then she heard the sound of a tray being set down on the table, right in the empty seat beside her.

Sieun hadn’t left.

He sat down calmly in the chair next to hers, arranging his chopsticks and spoon.

She peeked through her fingers. Sieun was right there, sitting beside her. His expression had returned to its usual neutrality, but the faint red tint on his ears and cheeks hadn’t faded.

He pulled a napkin from the dispenser, slid it across the table toward her elbows without looking her in the eye.

“Wipe… your eyes,” Sieun said softly, his voice low and almost gentle.

She lowered her hands slowly. Her eyes were red and watery from coughing. She looked at the napkin, then at him.

Sieun kept his gaze on his food, stirring rice with his spoon. He looked uncomfortable, but not disgusted or horrified by her outburst.

“Th-thank you,” she whispered, taking the napkin and drying her face, feeling like the clumsiest person alive.

Sooho finally calmed down, wiping away a tear of laughter, and leaned on his hands with a mischievous grin.

“Well… now that we’ve avoided a tragedy, and all the cards are on the table… Sieun.”

Sieun stopped stirring. “What?”

“I was wondering… since you’re going to be my best friend’s future husband, when’s the wedding? Should I rent a suit?” Sooho teased mercilessly.

She kicked Sooho under the table, hard enough to make him grunt. “Shut up!” she hissed, her face burning again.

She glanced at Sieun, expecting him to get up and leave with his tray.

But Sieun didn’t leave.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds, took a bite of food, chewed slowly, swallowed, then looked at Sooho.

“There’s no date yet,” Sieun said, completely serious.

Sooho’s eyes widened, then he burst out laughing again, clapping his hands.

She froze, her heart racing wildly.

Sieun turned his head slightly, meeting her eyes. His gaze was intense, making her breath catch.

“Though…” he added quietly, almost just for her, “I guess you’d have to get the candy ring from the vending machine first, right?”

And there it was.

That tiny, almost invisible smile she had described in her monologue. It flickered across his lips for a second before disappearing, but she saw it clearly.

He didn't waste time with long hellos. Suho grabbed your hand, pulling you along the path toward the rooms they let soldiers use for visits. His grip was tight, almost desperate. "Come on," he muttered, voice low. "I can't wait anymore."

You barely had time to catch your breath before he pushed open the door to his small room and tugged you inside. The second the door clicked shut, he had you against the wall. His mouth crashed into yours, hungry and rough like he'd been starving for this. His hands slid down your sides, grabbing your waist and pulling your body flush against his. You could feel how hard he already was through his uniform pants.

"Fuck, I missed you," he groaned between kisses. He didn't sound like the boy who left to serve his mandatory work. He sounded raw. His lips moved to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders. The room was plain. Bed, desk, locker, but none of that mattered. All you cared about was him.

Suho's hands were everywhere. He tugged your shirt up, palms sliding over your skin like he needed to touch every inch. You helped him pull it off, then went for his uniform jacket. Buttons came undone fast. Underneath, his body was still toned from training, maybe even harder now. You ran your hands over his chest, feeling the heat of his skin.

He walked you backward until your legs hit the bed. "Lie down," he said, voice thick. You did, watching as he stripped off the rest of his top. His eyes stayed locked on you the whole time. When he climbed over you, the weight of him felt so good.

He kissed you again, slower this time but still deep, tongue sliding against yours while his hand slipped under your skirt.

"You're already wet," he whispered against your mouth. His fingers rubbed over your panties, pressing the fabric against your clit. You moaned, hips twitching up. He pushed the panties aside and slid one finger inside you, then two, pumping them slow and steady. "So tight… been thinking about this pussy every night."

You reached down and palmed him through his pants. He was rock hard, throbbing under your touch. Suho hissed, grinding against your hand. "Want you so bad," you breathed. He didn't need more encouragement.

He pulled his fingers out and stripped the rest of his clothes off fast. His cock sprang free, thick and flushed, tip already leaking. You licked your lips without thinking. Suho noticed. He gave you a crooked smile. "Later. Right now I need to be inside you."

He shoved your skirt up around your waist and yanked your panties down your legs. No time for full undressing. He spread your thighs wide and lined himself up. The first push made you both groan. He sank in deep, stretching you open. "Shit… so good," he muttered, forehead pressed to yours.

Suho started thrusting, hard and fast like he couldn't hold back. The bed creaked under you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, heels digging into his back. Every stroke hit deep, making sparks shoot through your body. His mouth found your tits, sucking on one nipple while he fucked you. You moaned louder, not caring if anyone outside might hear.

He flipped you over suddenly, pulling you up on all fours. His hand smacked your ass once, then he gripped your hips and slammed back in. This angle felt even deeper. You pushed back against him, meeting every thrust. "Harder," you gasped.

Suho growled and gave it to you. Skin slapped against skin. His hand reached around to rub your clit in quick circles. Your arms shook, pleasure building fast. "Gonna cum," you warned.

"Do it. Cum on my cock," he ordered, thrusting even faster.

You came hard, clenching around him, crying out his name. Suho fucked you through it, then pulled out and flipped you onto your back again. He stroked himself a few times, eyes dark. "Open your mouth."

"Love you," you whispered.

You did, and he came with a groan, thick ropes landing on your tongue and chest. He breathed heavy, looking down at you like he wanted to remember every second.

"Love you more," he answered,.

You lay tangled up after, sweaty and breathing hard. Suho traced patterns on your back with his fingers. "Don't wanna let you go," he said quietly.

The visit time was limited, but you had one more thing planned. Before you left, you pulled a small envelope from your bag and handed it to him. "For when I'm not here," you told him, cheeks a little warm.

He opened it. Inside was a Polaroid of you. Naked. On your bed at home, legs spread, one hand between your thighs, looking straight at the camera with that look you knew drove him crazy. On the back you'd written: "Think of me when you need relief. I'll be waiting for the real thing."