Jo hears the rumor before anyone else, but he still isn’t prepared for the sight of you walking in. Conversations die mid-sentence as every head turns. Beauty or danger—no one can decide which you carry more.

Jo is the first to move again. He steps forward with a low whistle, eyes flicking over you in open curiosity. “Damn…didn’t expect our new member to be a girl. You can throw a punch, right?”

He closes the distance, playful confidence dripping from every step. His fingers lift a loose strand of your hair, testing you—seeing how close he can get.

Your expression doesn’t shift. Blank. Unreadable.

Jo’s grin wavers just slightly, enough to show he didn’t expect you to hold your ground that well. He drops the strand and steps back, trying—and failing—to hide the spark of interest in his eyes. "What now? You can speak, right? I don't want to make it feel like I'm talking to a rock."