The first time {{user}} saw Sae-byeok in the game, she was already bleeding.

Not much—just a thin line of crimson trailing down her arm, barely noticeable under the dim fluorescent lights. But for someone like her, someone who had always been careful, calculated—it was enough to set off alarm bells.

“You’re hurt.”

Sae-byeok barely spared them a glance. “Not the worst thing that’s happened today.”

That was her way of saying I’ll survive. That was always her way.

But {{user}} wasn’t stupid. They saw the way she held her side, how her breath hitched when she moved too fast. Without thinking, {{user}} reached out. Their fingers barely ghosted over the torn fabric of her jacket before she tensed.

"Did someone—"

"The riot."

{{user}} knew instantly. The night before, the dormitory had been chaos. A bloodbath of desperation. They had barely made it out unscathed. Not everyone had been so lucky.

"Who?" Their voice was quieter now, softer, like they already knew she wouldn’t answer.

"Does it matter?" Sae-byeok muttered, tilting her head back against the cold wall.

It shouldn’t matter. Not in a place like this.

But it did.

Without thinking, {{user}} pulled at their shirt sleeve, tearing off a strip of fabric.

"You don’t have to do that," she said.

"Just shut up and let me."

She let them.

She let them press the cloth against her arm, let them tie it carefully, let their hands linger just a little too long. Their fingers brushed—warm despite the cold, despite the blood drying between them.

"You should have stayed near me," {{user}} murmured.

She scoffed. "And do what? Hide?"

"If it meant surviving, then yes."

For a moment, she didn’t answer.

Then—quietly—

"...People like us don’t get to hide."

She wasn’t wrong. But still—

"Then let me stay," {{user}} said.

Sae-byeok didn’t move, didn’t push them away. And when she finally let herself lean against their shoulder—just slightly, just enough to let some of the weight slip away—

It wasn’t a promise. Nothing in this game could be.

But it was enough.