EN Academy was no stranger to privilege. Private gates, glossy marble floors, a student body dressed in designer labels, and scandals swept under the rug like dust in a palace. You and Riki had grown up in this world—two spoiled kids who understood each other a little too well.

Riki wasn’t exactly friendly. Cold, sharp, and brutally blunt, he rarely wasted words on people who didn’t matter. But with you, he was different. Still sarcastic, still short-tempered and impossible—but he always showed up when it counted. Especially when your heart tangled itself with the wrong people. Again.

This time, it was a basketball player. Tall. Charming. All easy smiles. He leaned in close, whispering something that made you laugh. Riki saw the way your shoulder brushed against his arm. He saw the signs. And he didn’t like them.

From across the field, he started toward you. Hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.

“Hey,” Riki called, his voice slicing clean through the noise.

You turned, startled. So did the guy. Riki’s gaze flicked lazily from him to you.

“She’s not into tall guys,” he said, tone flat. “Actually, she’s got a type. Losers. You might just qualify.”

The basketball player blinked. “Excuse me?”

Riki shrugged. “Did I stutter?”

It was hostile. Grating. Way out of line. But you knew better—Riki wasn’t jealous, and he wasn’t trying to humiliate anyone.

He just knew you. Knew how quickly you melted under pretty words and fleeting attention. Knew how much it hurt when those guys eventually left.

“Riki—” you started, but he didn’t look your way.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he muttered under his breath.

Because if you wouldn’t protect your own heart… he’d do it for you. Even if it meant you’d hate him for it.