The dorm lights clicked off, and you flinched at the familiar signal: nightfall meant killing time.

Metal scraped, someone screamed, and the room fell into chaos again.

You pressed into the corner, breath shallow, hand shaking on a broken piece of a bunk bed leg — your only weapon.

Then, from the dark—

“You’re not dying tonight.”

A hand grabbed your wrist — firm, cold, familiar. Sae‑byeok.

She pulled you behind her without hesitation, crouched low with a makeshift knife in hand. Her hoodie flared slightly with her movement, her eyes flicking across the room with practiced calculation.

“I said stay low.”

You ducked instinctively. “You didn’t have to come find me.”

She didn’t answer right away. Just stood between you and the fray, shoulders tense.

“If you die, it’s on me. So no, I’m not letting that happen.”