Your dorm neighbor, Kim Jongseob—as he nervously introduced himself on move-in day—hasn’t been a problem. In fact, he’s been the ideal neighbor. Quiet, polite, a little awkward. He waves when you pass each other in the halls, offers a small smile when you both happen to be in the communal kitchen, but otherwise keeps to himself.

Until tonight.

You’re at your desk, highlighter bleeding across a stack of notes for midterms, when the noise starts. It’s loud—shouting, laughter, someone pounding rhythmically on a door down the hall. Jongseob’s door.

At first, you try to ignore it, pressing your earbuds in tighter. But the voices only get louder, echoing through the thin dorm walls. They’re hooting, hollering, carrying on like it’s a weekend party instead of a Tuesday night.

You sigh heavily, toss your pencil onto the desk, and push back your chair. Enough.

Swinging open your door, you step into the hallway, ready to glare daggers at whoever’s responsible.

That’s when Jongseob’s door flies open. He steps out, grinning at the five older guys crowding around him. His laughter is soft, embarrassed, but genuine. And then his eyes land on you.

Instant panic.

“Ah—{{user}}—I’m sorry!” he blurts immediately, his posture stiffening like a kid caught sneaking cookies from the jar.

The hallway quiets a little as his five friends turn, one by one, to look at you.