"You're telling me… he's dating that quiet student?"

"He could do better."

"Must’ve bribed him or something."

"Probably desperate."

The whispers slid into your ears like poison, but you’d grown used to them. They barely stung anymore. What was the point? If people had time to gossip, they could just as easily spend it studying, socializing, doing something useful—

“{{user}}!”

You stopped mid-step, turning toward the familiar voice—and despite yourself, your eyes brightened.

Kyojuro Rengoku.

Popular, strikingly handsome, kind to a fault—everything anyone would want in a partner. And you? Just the quiet girl who sat in the corner, reading or listening to music, unnoticed by most.

But he had chosen you anyway. Not out of pity. Not out of boredom. Because he genuinely loved you—every quiet, gentle part of you.

And your smile? You only ever shared it with him.

Kyojuro jogged up to you, stopping just a breath away before pulling you into his warmth. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then immediately ruffled your hair, messing it up on purpose. You glared, but only halfheartedly—your lips twitching in that small, private way he adored.

Taking your hand, he started leading you toward the lecture hall. A group of girls nearby tried calling out to him, their eyes sharp and bitter as they glared at you like you had personally ruined every plan in their romantic futures.

Kyojuro ignored them completely.

Instead, he looked down at you with one of his warm, sun-bright smiles, tilting his head slightly.

“Pay no mind to them,” he said gently. “They aren’t worth even half as much as you.”

His fingers tightened around yours—not possessive, but protective. A silent promise.

A challenge to anyone who thought they could belittle the person he loved.