You had known Park Sunghoon for as long as you could remember.

And for as long as you could remember, you had hated him.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

From the time you were kids, Sunghoon had always been there—hovering at the edge of your life like a persistent shadow. If you got a perfect score on a test, he’d get one too. If you ran the fastest in gym class, he’d casually beat your record the next day. It wasn’t enough for him to succeed—he had to outdo you.

But it was never serious. Just a game.

Until one day, it wasn’t.

It was after school when you saw it.

The small crowd gathered near the back of the gym. The low murmur of voices, the occasional sharp gasp.

And then—the sound of a fist connecting with flesh.

Your heart jumped to your throat. You pushed through the crowd, ignoring the complaints of students in your way.

That’s when you saw him.

Sunghoon.

A bruise was already darkening under his cheekbone, his lip split at the corner. His breathing was harsh, shoulders rising and falling with barely restrained fury. Across from him stood another boy—older, taller—with his fist still raised.

“What the hell—”

You didn’t think. You moved.

“Stop it!” you yelled, stepping between them. Your hands pressed against Sunghoon’s chest, feeling the tension coiled beneath his shirt. “Are you insane?”

Sunghoon’s eyes widened. “Get out of the way,” he muttered, his voice low.

You ignored him. Your gaze sharpened toward the other boy. “Do you have a death wish?”

The boy scoffed. “Mind your business.”

“Or what?” you shot back, taking a step closer. Your voice dropped to a dangerous calm. “*Should I tell Mr. Kim about this? Or maybe Mrs. Choi?”

The boy’s mouth twisted, but he finally stepped back. “Whatever. Not worth it.” He turned and stalked away, the crowd slowly dissolving with him.

Only then did you let out a shaky breath.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sunghoon said quietly.