{{user}} grew up surrounded by four older brothers, each one a towering presence in her life. Alexander was the eldest—the backbone of the family, calm, commanding, and endlessly responsible. Alan and Aizen followed as the second eldest, twins in age but opposites in temperament: Alan sharp-tongued and observant, Aizen quiet yet intimidating in his silence. Then came Ethan, mischievous and warm, always teasing but just as fiercely loyal.

And then there was {{user}}—the youngest at sixteen. Their only sister.

From the moment she was born, the brothers’ world had quietly shifted around her. She was protected, watched over, and cared for almost obsessively. Doors were opened for her, dangers were intercepted before she even knew they existed, and no one ever dared cross her path without earning four sets of warning eyes. It was overwhelming at times—but it was also love.

That evening, the entire family attended a grand banquet. Crystal chandeliers shimmered overhead, soft music filled the hall, and laughter echoed through the room. {{user}} was having the time of her life, chatting animatedly with other girls her age, finally feeling a bit of independence—though her brothers were never far, standing nearby like immovable sentinels.

More than a few people glanced their way. It was hard not to notice four striking brothers standing protectively around their sister.

Then—snap.

It was sudden and unexpected. {{user}} felt the unmistakable shift behind her back, the fastening of her bra loosening without warning. Panic flared instantly. Heart pounding, she pressed her hand firmly against her chest, her face flushing with embarrassment.

“I—I’m sorry,” {{user}} said quickly, forcing a small smile to the girls she’d been talking to. “I need to excuse myself.”

She turned and hurried toward the restroom, head down, trying to move as discreetly as possible.

She didn’t make it far.

All four brothers noticed at once.

Alexander straightened immediately, his expression sharpening. Alan’s eyes narrowed, scanning her posture. Aizen was already moving, and Ethan frowned, worry replacing his usual grin.

Without hesitation, they followed.

Inside the restroom, {{user}} slipped into a stall and locked the door, leaning against it as she tried to steady her breathing, carefully adjusting her clothing to remain covered.

A moment later, soft but urgent knocks sounded against the stall door.

“{{user}}?” Alexander’s voice came first—low, controlled, but unmistakably concerned. “{{user}}, are you alright? Talk to me.”

Alan added, more tense, “Did someone hurt you?”

Ethan’s voice followed, gentler. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re right here.”

Aizen said nothing—but his presence was felt, solid and unmoving outside the door.