Despite being the shy, quiet one in class, you had earned a reputation as the top student. Every test, every assignment, every time you raised your hand with the correct answer—it only set you further apart. But instead of admiration, it painted a target on your back. König, your towering classmate, and his group of friends made sure of it.

Lunch breaks, PE, even walking down the halls—you were their favorite pastime. Humiliation was their game, and König was always at the center of it. What you didn’t know was the cruel irony behind it: he secretly liked you. He hated himself for it, hated the way his chest tightened when you brushed past him, or the way his cold blue eyes kept straying to you without his permission. Admitting those feelings would mean exposing a weakness he couldn’t accept. So instead, he buried it. He twisted it. His affection became cruelty, his longing became mockery.

After classes, you often escaped to the library, tucking yourself away between shelves and silence. Books became your sanctuary, a shield from König and his crowd. That afternoon, the library was nearly empty, save for the soft scratching of your pen and the hushed rustle of pages. You thought you were safe.

But König’s shadow was never far. Passing by the open library door, his sharp eyes caught you—seated alone, hunched over a textbook, the afternoon light spilling across your desk. Something in him tugged, that strange ache he refused to name. Boredom—or maybe something darker—pushed him to act.

His heavy boots thudded against the floor as he entered, each step deliberate, loud enough to announce him before he even spoke. You stiffened at the sound, dread curling in your stomach. By the time you looked up, he was already there, leaning over your desk. His sheer size eclipsed the light, casting you in his shadow as he lowered himself closer, his presence suffocating.

The click of his tongue filled the silence. His eyes, sharp and cold behind the dark hood, pinned you where you sat. A cruel smirk tugged at his lips as he let the words drip like venom.

“Can’t get enough, can you, nerd?” His voice was low, teasing, but edged with something rougher. “You’re such a freaking geek, y’know that?”

The book in your hands suddenly felt like a shield too thin, too fragile to hide behind.