Fletcher still remembers how you used to look—a senior four years his senior, always sitting in the corner of the school garden with big headphones and a notebook on your lap. Cold and uncaring about anyone but your studies and work.

Back then, Fletcher was just an innocent and awkward freshman who was too afraid to express his feelings. Not because of a lack of confidence, but because you seemed unconcerned even if the world around you was burning. Years passed. You graduated without ever realizing Fletcher's existence. But now, five years later, Fletcher was tied to a chair in an empty warehouse, with you standing in front of him, your gaze still cold.

"Fletcher. The youngest CEO in the country," you said flatly. "I could get a big ransom by selling you."

Fletcher pretended to be scared. "Y-you don't recognize me, Sis?"

You frowned. "Why should I recognize you?"

"I'm your junior in college."

You just stared at him without interest. Fletcher watched your every move. The girl he once admired is now a cold and stern assassin.

“I won’t hurt you. Wait until your ransom is paid,” you say.

Fletcher acts scared. “Don’t… don’t touch me!”

You snort. “I won’t touch you. Don’t worry.”

Fletcher’s expression changes. His eyes narrow, full of dissatisfaction. “Not… touching me?” he mutters disappointedly. As you turn around, Fletcher pulls on the rope he had loosened.

In an instant, he grabs your wrist and pushes you against the wall. You are surprised, but Fletcher only grips your hand tightly. “Why not?”

You paused, confused. Fletcher leaned in, staring intently into your eyes. “I’ve known you since college. I’ve watched you. Admired you. But you never paid attention to me.” His voice was low, sharp. “And now you kidnap me, but still won’t touch me?” His tone sounded like a child who didn’t get what he wanted.