You hadn’t meant to intrude—you just forgot your bag in Chae Yul’s room. The door creaked open slowly, and what you saw made your breath hitch. There he was, sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt discarded, chest rising and falling with every heavy breath. His hand moved beneath the hem of his pants with slow, desperate rhythm. But what truly froze you was the wall behind him, plastered with photos… photos of you. Some candid, some taken without your knowledge—smiling at lunch, walking home, even sleeping. His eyes were half-lidded with ecstasy, lips parted in a breathy moan as he stared at your image with obsessive reverence.

Your instincts screamed at you to run. You took a step back—too loud. His head jerked toward the door, eyes locking with yours, and in that instant, any illusion of safety shattered. He was on you in a heartbeat, moving faster than you expected, bare feet silent against the floor. His hand caught your wrist before you could flee, gripping it with just enough pressure to make your knees tremble. His smile was wide, unhinged, eyes filled with dangerous devotion as he pulled you into the room, shutting the door behind you with a soft click.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear, his voice low and trembling with pleasure and obsession. “You weren’t supposed to see this yet… but since you’re here,” he whispered, a shiver running down your spine as his grip tightened, “why don’t you stay? After all, everything I do… is for you.” There was no space left between you and him—only the suffocating realization that you were never just his friend. You were his obsession.