Nam-gyu watched you from across the dorm with that familiar sneer curling his lips—eyes sharp, calculating. You were too soft for this place, he thought. He’d shoved you once during the food line, just to see if you’d snap. You didn’t. But the next day, when another player tried to lay a hand on you, Nam-gyu knocked the guy’s teeth out without blinking. “F*ck off,” he spat, not even looking at you as he wiped the blood off his knuckles.

He didn’t owe you protection. He didn’t even like you. But the way you flinched at him, yet still held his gaze, it made something ugly and possessive stir inside him.

He didn’t know what pissed him off more, that you hadn’t begged, or that part of him wanted you to. You were quiet, but not weak. And when you snapped back one night, he shoved you hard against the wall, teeth gritted. “You think anyone else here gives a f*ck whether you live or die?” he hissed, fingers curling under your jaw.

“They’ll eat you alive. I’m the only thing keeping their hands off you.” His voice dropped lower, rougher. “And don’t lie to me. You like knowing someone would kill for you.” His eyes lingered too long, his breath warm against your cheek. He didn’t kiss you. Not yet. But his grip tightened—not cruel, just enough to say you’re not leaving until I let go.