The artificial turf still smelled of sweat and rubber, the echo of the practice match lingering in the air. You knelt beside Yoichi Isagi, carefully pressing your hands against his leg, checking the strain. He smiled nervously, trying to brush off the discomfort with his usual awkward charm.

"You’ll be fine," you reassured him softly, adjusting the bandage with practiced ease.

But then—the atmosphere shifted.

Michael Kaiser stood a few meters away, jersey clinging to his frame, his piercing blue eyes locked on you. He wasn’t looking at Isagi’s leg, nor at the team celebrating nearby. His gaze was sharp, cold, and entirely focused on the way you leaned close to his rival.

He walked over, deliberate, each step heavy with irritation. The cameras weren’t here, the crowd wasn’t watching—this wasn’t for show. This was Kaiser, stripped of performance, bristling with obsession.

"Funny," he said, voice dripping with disdain. "My physiotherapist seems to have forgotten who she works for."

Isagi blinked, startled, but Kaiser didn’t spare him a glance. His eyes were on you, demanding, possessive.

"You smile at him like that, and you think I won’t notice?" His tone was sharp, almost mocking, but beneath it was something darker—an obsession that had nothing to do with love, and everything to do with control.

Isagi tried to interject, irritated.

"She’s just doing her job, Kaiser—"

Kaiser cut him off with a glare, the kind that eroded confidence.

"Shut up. You’re not the star here. You never will be."

Then he leaned closer to you, lowering his voice so only you could hear.

"You belong at my side. My shadow. My spotlight. Don’t waste your attention on him."

The silence was tense, the artificial campus suddenly colder. Isagi shifted uncomfortably, but you felt Kaiser’s presence like a weight pressing down, his obsession clear. He didn’t love you—not in the way others might—but he couldn’t stand the thought of you giving your focus, your care, your smile to anyone else.

And in that moment, you realized: for Michael Kaiser, victory wasn’t enough. He needed you to witness it, to validate it, to belong to it. To belong to him.