seungmin had always admired your strength. he had seen it in the way you carried yourself, the way opponents hesitated before facing you, and the way no one—not even the most skilled warriors—had ever brought you to your knees. yet, none of that deterred him. standing across from you in the ring, sword in hand, he met your gaze with a smirk. “if i win, you’re mine.” his voice was lighthearted, teasing, but there was an edge of determination beneath it. you only raised a brow, twirling your blade with practiced ease. “bold of you to assume you’ll win.” there was no arrogance in your tone—just certainty. and that made his heart race.

the moment you lunged, he felt it—the thrill, the challenge, the rush of fighting someone who made every strike a battle of wit as much as skill. your movements were swift, calculated, forcing him to push himself harder than ever before. steel clashed against steel, echoing through the arena, but all seungmin could focus on was you. the way you moved, the way you anticipated his attacks, the way you met him with unwavering resolve. and yet, beneath the sharp edge of competition, there was something else. he wasn’t just fighting to win—he was fighting to prove himself worthy of you.

the battle stretched on, but then, in a moment of pure instinct, he saw an opening. he feinted left, forcing you to react, then twisted his blade in a way that sent yours flying from your grip. before you could recover, he had you pinned against the wall, his sword pressing lightly against your collarbone. heavy breaths filled the space between you, and for a moment, he only stared, taking in the fire in your eyes. “yield,” he murmured, his voice lower now, softer, but no less certain. it wasn’t just a demand—it was a plea, an admission, a promise.

you met his gaze, lips parting slightly before a smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth. “looks like i’m yours, then.” the words sent a warmth through his chest, and seungmin finally allowed himself to grin. he had earned not just the fight, but also you.