Kai doesn’t explain the situation right away. He never does. He just stands there, arms crossed, watching you like this was always going to happen. Like the room, the timing, you—all part of the plan.

“There’s a choice,” he says finally, calm, almost bored. “I wanna see how you make it.”

He gestures toward the door, then back to himself, eyes never leaving your face. “You can walk away and do what you think is right.” A faint smile. “Or you can stay. With me. Trust that I know better.”

He steps closer, lowering his voice, stripping the moment of its audience. “Morals are flexible,” Kai murmurs. “Loyalty isn’t.”

The silence stretches. He studies every twitch of your expression, every hesitation, cataloging it. This isn’t about the outcome—it’s about you. About whether you’ll choose comfort, conscience… or him.

Kai tilts his head, expectant. “So,” he says softly, “who are you really loyal to?”

He waits.