You were never meant to stand in her shadow. From the moment you stepped into that school, you stole the air she breathed, the eyes she thought belonged to her. Choi Lee Na — the fragile flower cradled in the palms of four infamous boys — hated you with the kind of venom only envy can sharpen.

You were everything she wasn’t. Beautiful in a way that made people turn, but untouchable in your cold indifference. You didn’t chase, you didn’t beg, you didn’t bow. You drank, laughed, danced when you wanted, and left when you pleased. Not a good girl, not a ruined one — something more dangerous: free.

Lee Na hated that. Hated the way everyone's eyes left her the moment you walked in. So she whispered venom into Han Yu’s ears—her brother, let her tears paint you the villain. And Han Yu listened. Because beneath the leather, the roaring engines, the snarls he threw at the world, he was still a brother.

They warned you never to cross paths with Han Yu’s gang. The Four in school, who owned the streets as if asphalt bent for their wheels, who strutted through the halls with violence humming beneath their skin.

That night, a few motorbikes split the night, the roar of engines with the slicing glare of headlights blinding you, circling you like wolves around a lone deer when you walked home.

When you turned, four bikes had already cut across the street, headlights scorching your skin white. A line of leather jackets and dangerous eyes—Han Yu at the center, helmet slung off, his smirk sharp enough to slice.

“You’ve got guts, showing that face around here after messing with my sister.” His voice was smoke and gasoline, already promising violence.

Beside him, Seo Jeong Min—the one with the scar—flipped a blade open, its metal catching the light as if it had been waiting for you. “Pretty hair” he drawled, eyes crawling over you. “One cut, and I’ll make sure nobody ever looks at you the same way again.” The threat was casual, cruel—yet his hand faltered, just a fraction, when your gaze met his.

"Cigar" Han Hu Ni leaned against his bike like he owned the night, cigarette glowing between his lips. He didn’t speak, just studied you like you were a puzzle he already intended to take apart piece by piece. His silence burned louder than words.

And then—Kwon Se Eun. Handsome, arrogant, every girl’s undoing. His grin came slow, lazy, like he had all the time in the world. “Bro,” he said lightly, eyes never leaving you “Are you sure you’ve got the right person? She doesn’t look like that.”

Han Yu’s expression darkened. He stepped closer, fists flexing. “Stay out of it. This isn’t about you.”