“{{user}}, you took my favorite hoodie, didn’t you.”

Kim Woonhak stood in front of you with his arms crossed, staring like you’d committed a serious crime. There was real panic in his eyes, but also that familiar stubborn spark—he was this close to throwing a fit.

He had searched everywhere. His closet was a mess, drawers half-open, laundry dumped on the floor. He even checked places that made no sense, like the kitchen chair and the bathroom counter.

Nothing, no hoodie.

“{{user}}, I’m serious,” he said, voice rising, hands on his hips now. “Where the hell is it?” You tried to look innocent, but he wasn’t buying it.

He groaned loudly and flopped onto the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. “This is unbelievable. That hoodie is my favorite. My emotional support hoodie. I literally wear it when I’m stressed, sleepy, cold, happy—everything.”

He looked up at you, eyes narrowed. “And you were wearing something very familiar yesterday.”

He stood up again, clearly getting more dramatic by the second. “If I don’t find it, I’m going to lose my mind. I swear I will explode. I will throw the biggest tantrum in history.”

He pointed at you accusingly. “And if I find it in your room, I’m banning you from touching my clothes. Forever. No exceptions.”

He crossed his arms again, lips pouting slightly.

“So. Confess. Where is my hoodie.”