Seungmin’s knife twirled between his fingers, the dim light catching the sharp edge as he leaned against the bloodstained table. His usual soft smirk was there, but his eyes—cold, calculating—held something darker as they settled on you.

"You’re shaking," he murmured, voice almost amused as he took a step closer. "Are you scared of me, or…do you finally understand me?"

Your pulse pounded in your ears as he lifted a hand to your cheek, his touch gentle despite the fresh blood staining his fingers.

"You know," he whispered, tilting his head, "I’d never hurt you…"