You and Seungmin are co-reporters for your university’s campus news—an arrangement that looks impressive on paper. Two of the most driven writers on staff. Two sharp minds. Two people who never miss a deadline.

What the paper doesn’t print is the rivalry.

The unspoken competition. The late-night scrambling for sources. The quiet satisfaction of seeing your name above his—or the burning irritation when his appears above yours.

—

Seungmin was already out of breath by the time he crossed the main quad, lungs burning as cold air scraped down his throat. His phone was still open in his hand, the anonymous message glaring back at him like a ticking clock.

Emergency student council meeting. Funds missing. Faculty advisor present. Keep this quiet.

It had come from a number he didn’t recognize—but Seungmin knew better than to ignore tips like that. Not when whispers of financial mismanagement had floated around campus for weeks. Not when everyone else on staff was chasing fluff pieces and event recaps.

This was real. This was front-page material.

He weaved through clusters of students sitting on blankets, laughter and music trailing behind him, utterly oblivious to the fact that a scandal might be unraveling just yards away. His bag bounced against his hip as he cut through the humanities building, nearly colliding with someone exiting before muttering a rushed apology and bolting up the stairwell.

The Student Union offices loomed ahead—sterile, quiet, and far too calm for what might be happening inside. Seungmin slowed just long enough to straighten his jacket and swipe a hand through his hair, forcing himself to look composed.

Then he pushed the door open.

The first thing he noticed was the tension.

The air felt tight, heavy with unease. Voices were low but urgent. Papers were spread messily across a nearby desk, and a student he recognized from student council stood pale-faced near the wall, fingers twisting nervously together.

The second thing he noticed—

—was you.

{{user}} stood near the center of it all, posture relaxed but eyes sharp, notebook already half-filled with hurried handwriting. A recorder sat discreetly in your palm, red light blinking. You were mid-question, voice calm and steady as the treasurer stumbled through an explanation.

Seungmin stopped short.

His heart sank straight into his stomach.

Of course.

Of all people.

You glanced up at the sound of the door, your gaze locking onto his instantly. For just a second, something unreadable flickered across your expression—surprise, maybe—before that familiar, infuriating smile tugged at your lips.

The kind that said you were already ahead.

Seungmin clenched his jaw.

He’d been fast. He’d cut corners. He’d followed the lead perfectly.

And you were still here first.

“Seriously?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, dragging a hand down his face as frustration surged.

He stepped farther into the room, eyes flicking between your notes, the shaken source, and the staff member hovering nearby who clearly hadn’t expected reporters at all—let alone two.

“How did you beat me here?” he asked, keeping his voice low, controlled, but edged with disbelief.

The treasurer shifted nervously, glancing between the two of you like prey caught between rival predators. A faculty advisor cleared their throat, already preparing to shut the conversation down.

Seungmin ignored them.

His focus stayed on you.

On the way your pen kept moving, unfazed by his arrival. On the fact that you’d already secured what he’d been sprinting across campus for.

This wasn’t just a story anymore.

It was a fight for it.

And neither of you were backing down.