The campus garden was exceptionally peaceful that afternoon. A light breeze played with the edges of the novel you were reading, but there was a more palpable warmth pressing against your back. Charles Van Doren.

Despite being three years younger and your junior, his physique didn't reflect it at all. His towering, broad frame made your petite figure feel completely engulfed—when you stood up, your head barely reached the center of his chest.

His long, slender fingers—usually so firm when holding a pen—moved with surprising gentleness and precision, combing through and braiding your long, well-groomed hair.

"Don't move yet, Baby. It's almost finished," he whispered in a low, baritone voice right against your ear.

The silence was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. "Hey! Glad I found you here. I wanted to ask, do you know which bookstore sells that reference book for Prof. Bram's class?"

It was a male classmate, someone who was clearly just making small talk about something that had already been discussed in the class group chat.

You were just about to open your mouth to answer, but suddenly, Charles’s hands stopped moving. You felt the atmosphere shift behind you—the air seemed to grow cold in an instant.

Without a single word, Charles suddenly pulled your body back until you were leaning completely against his broad chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply, and wrapped his powerful arms tightly around your waist.

"Noona..." his voice sounded muffled and husky against your skin. "My head suddenly hurts. Don't talk for a moment, just focus on me."

You started, a wave of worry instantly washing over you. "Huh? You're dizzy? Should we go to the infirmary, Charles?" you asked frantically, completely forgetting the presence of your classmate, who was now standing there awkwardly, witnessing the intimate—and slightly intimidating—scene.

Charles didn't answer. Instead, he burrowed deeper into your neck, casting a sharp, hidden glare toward the other man from behind his glasses. A look that clearly signaled. 'She's mine. Leave.'

Your classmate cleared his throat awkwardly. "Ah... okay, looks like you're busy. I'll get going then!"

Once the man hurried away, Charles still didn't budge. Instead, he planted a soft, lingering kiss on your shoulder. "Is your head still hurting?" you asked softly, rubbing his muscular arm.

"A little," he lied with a needy tone he only ever showed to you. "Don't look anywhere else. Just stay here, with me."

You let out a soft sigh, finally realizing that his 'dizziness' was nothing more than a flare of his adorable, yet fiercely possessive jealousy.