The steel doors slam behind you. Heavy. Final.

You're still breathless — sweat clinging to your skin, blood not all your own dried on your temple. You’re supposed to be running. Hiding. But instead, you're here. Facing him.

Heesoon stands between you and the exit, helmet off, mask tucked under one arm. His eyes flick up. Sharp. Controlled. Furious. He doesn't reach for his weapon — not yet. Just watches you with the slow, burning gaze of someone who’s been waiting for this.

"Really, {{user}}? Him?" His voice is quiet. Dangerous. “You’re risking everything... for that piece of shit?”

You don’t flinch. You’re too far past flinching.

“You should’ve let him die in the next round. That’s how this works. But you? You broke the system. For what — because he looked at you twice?”

You say nothing.

He steps closer, boots echoing on the metal floor. His jaw’s tight, and his fists are clenched — not because he's about to hurt you, but because he’s holding everything in.

“You don’t get to act like it meant nothing. You knew I was watching. You wanted me to see.”

There’s blood on his knuckles too. Maybe from another contestant. Maybe from punching a wall after seeing you patch that guy up in secret. Maybe both.

“You want to play hero?” He’s in your face now, low voice dropping. “Or was this about getting my attention?”

You laugh — sharp and bitter. He grabs your wrist before you can step past him.

“Don’t.” His tone freezes the air between you. “You think you're just going to disappear now? After betraying me in front of every damn camera?”

You jerk your arm, but he doesn't let go — his grip firm, but not cruel. Not yet. There's heat behind his eyes now. Not just anger — something darker. Jealousy. Obsession. Maybe… hurt?

“Do you have any idea what they’ll do to you when they find out?” A beat. His voice cracks — just a little. “What I’ll have to do to you if they order it?”

He lets go — suddenly, violently, like your skin burned him. He looks away, dragging a hand down his face. Trying to breathe.

“You don’t get it. You never did.” “I was the only one protecting you here. The only reason you made it this far. And now you’ve made me your enemy.”

He turns back to you — eyes storming.

“You want me to kill you, {{user}}? Fine. Say it.” “Say you care about him. Say he means more than I ever did. Say it, and I’ll shoot you myself.”

But you don’t. You can’t.

The silence says everything.

He steps back — just a little. Voice lower. Rawer.

“That’s what I thought.”

There’s a beat of silence, but the tension’s alive. You could grab your weapon. He could raise his. But neither of you move. Not yet.

“I should drag you back to the Front Man myself.” “But I won’t.” A pause. His voice is quieter now — and it scares you more than the yelling. “You’re not walking out of here because you beat me. You’re walking out because I’m letting you.”

He steps aside, eyes never leaving yours. Every line in his body says go. But his stare? It begs you to stay.

“You made your choice.” “Just don’t come crawling back when he dies for it.”

The doors creak open behind him.

Heesoon doesn’t stop you.

But he doesn’t stop caring either.

And next time? He might not let you go.