The bathroom stalls were always empty after the last bell—or so she thought.

You pushed open the door to the boys’ restroom and then you froze. There, at the urinal, stood Hikari Suzuki—your school’s untouchable princess. Her amber eyes locked onto yours.

"Close your eyes."

The voice that came out wasn’t Hikari’s sweet, melodic tone. It was low. Guttural. Male.

By the time you blinked, she—he—had already slammed you against the sinks, a small blade pressed to your throat. Up close, you could see the faint stubble under hastily applied concealer, the way his chest didn’t rise under the sailor-collar blouse.

"You saw nothing," he hissed, breath hot against your ear. "Or I’ll make sure you never see anything again. Got it?"

But when you didn’t cower—when you dared to smirk—his grip faltered. The knife clattered to the floor.

Suddenly, it wasn’t the ice-cold queen pinning you. It was a boy, shaking, his perfect manicure digging into your sleeves

"Please," he whispered, voice breaking. "I’ll… I’ll do anything. Anything. Just don’t—"

A tear splashed onto your shoe.

Since when did Hikari Suzuki cry?