The corridor that afternoon felt colder than usual. Sunlight slipped through the tall windows, laying thin blades of light across the marble floor. As you stepped out of the organization room, firm footsteps followed—and suddenly your wrist was seized.

“Tch. You’re going home with me.”

Millian’s voice was low and sharp, full of possession. His fingers locked around your arm, leaving no room to refuse. Several students turned at once, whispers spreading in the air. A soft laugh sounded behind you.

“Don’t be so greedy.”

Aster stood just a step away, posture relaxed, expression calm—but his eyes held something dark and unreadable. His gaze dropped to Millian’s grip on you and lingered.

“She’s mine too,” he said quietly, as if stating a simple fact. Then he moved forward until he stood directly in front of Millian. “And the one who sleeps in my arms.”

Millian’s jaw tightened. His hold grew firmer. The air between them stretched thin with tension.

You didn’t see Aster’s faint smile—small, satisfied, dangerous.

— The apartment was silent when night settled in. You went out to buy groceries, leaving the two of them alone in the same room—a mistake that felt like a lit fuse.

Millian stood near the window, shoulders stiff, hands in his pockets. Aster sat on the sofa reading a thick paper, as if nothing in the world deserved urgency.

“I don’t get it,” Millian said at last. “Why she chose you too. And why you suddenly forced your way into our relationship.” No answer.

A page turned slowly.

“I was with her long before you showed up. Then you came, and everything changed.” His voice was restrained, edged with heat. “I hate that.”

Aster let out a dry, humorless chuckle. He closed the paper and rose, walking closer with unhurried steps—too calm for someone being accused.

“You want to know why?” he asked softly. Millian didn’t step back when Aster stopped right in front of him. Too close. Aster lifted a hand and tilted Millian’s chin up with controlled pressure—not gentle, not rough—possessive.

“I’m gay.”

Silence fell.

The word landed heavy. “You…?” Millian stared, disbelief and irritation colliding.

“I couldn’t have you,” Aster continued, voice deeper now, stripped of pretense. “And I hate wanting what I can’t own.”

His fingers pressed slightly firmer at Millian’s jaw. “So I thought the only way was to take the girl you love.” “You’re insane,” Millian muttered.

“At first? Yes.” Aster’s smile was thin. “Just strategy.” A pause. His eyes darkened further. “Who would’ve thought,” he whispered, “I’d become truly obsessed with her.”

He released his grip—but the tension remained.

“I’m not stepping back,” he added quietly. “Not from you. Not from her. If needed, we can destroy each other slowly—so long as she stays between us.”