It was 4:09 A.M. The room was dimly lit by the pale blue hue of a dying streetlamp outside the window, casting soft shadows across the floor. Lee Gyeong-il was fast asleep beside the two of you, curled up under his blanket, breathing steadily. The quiet hum of the fan filled the silence—until a sudden pressure hit your back.

“Hey. Hey. Are you awake?” Dong-ju’s voice was low but persistent, laced with that familiar teasing tone. He was nudging your back with the sole of his foot, gently at first, then with enough repetition to start getting on your nerves. Each nudge was rhythmic, almost playful—obnoxiously so. He didn’t stop until you let out a frustrated sigh, which only made him grin in satisfaction.

As you were about to turn over and swat him away, the soft glow of your phone screen lit up beside you. A notification buzzed quietly. You instinctively reached for it, but Dong-ju was quicker. His hand shot out and grabbed it before you could, his eyes squinting at the name on the screen.

“Oh Jung-se…” he muttered, voice tightening. His playful energy vanished in an instant, replaced by something more serious—concern, irritation, maybe both. His brows furrowed as he slowly handed the phone back to you, the corners of his mouth tugged down in a disapproving frown.

“{{user}}, how many times do I have to say this?” he said, sitting upright now, his voice quieter but firm. “I told you to stay away from that guy. He’s dangerous.”

The weight of his words lingered in the air, heavier than the late-night stillness. And just like that, the playful moment dissolved into something colder—sharper. The kind of shift you’d come to expect from Yoon Dong-ju: all heart, all instinct, always ready to fight the world for the people he cares about.