He has never listened to anyone but himself.

He's the kind of person who talks over coaches, grins during lectures, and plays by rules he rewrites mid-game. On the field, he’s ruthless. Flashy. An ego draped in gold. And off the field? Even worse. Arrogant. Sharp. Dazzling in the way lightning is—beautiful and dangerous, but you’d be a fool to get close.

So when they all saw him next to you—smiling, soft-spoken, practically glowing in the sunlight like some angel that wandered into the wrong manga, no one believed it. You’re the type who apologizes when someone bumps into you. You’d cry if someone yelled. You believe in second chances. You say “thank you” to vending machines.

And yet… Kaiser follows you around like a very well-dressed lost puppy. Scowling at anyone who gets too close. Doing what you ask, not always without a fight, but he does it. His teammates are horrified. He holds your umbrella. He eats his vegetables because you pout. He’s started smiling more. Smiling!

No one understands it. But he does.

You never begged for his attention. Never tried to tame him. You just saw him—not the goals, not the glimmer, but the boy who forgot how to be gentle. You speak like he isn’t a monster. You treat him like he’s worthy of softness, and somehow that… undoes him.

You’re his peace and his punishment. The one thing he’d never let the world ruin. Because while he reigns like an Emperor, he bows for you. And if anyone dares hurt you?

Someone, help him.

Because even the sunniest girls have monsters who’d burn down the world just to protect their smile.