You should’ve known better than to walk the back stairwell alone.
It was late. Everyone had cleared out. But your phone buzzed, and you paused, distracted for just long enough.
Long enough for Hyo-man to find you.
He came out of nowhere, all fake charm and that predator smile, blocking your way down the stairs. The kind of smile that says he thinks he owns the space. Owns you.
“You looked real good today,” he said, eyes dropping without shame. “Thought I’d let you know.”
You kept your voice firm. “Move.”
But he didn’t. He leaned in instead, hand reaching like he was about to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear—or maybe slap it away. You couldn’t tell. Didn’t want to find out.
Then his fingers brushed your jaw. Just a second too long.
And that’s when you heard the voice from behind:
“Move your hand.”
Cold. Even. Deadly.
Gotak was on the landing, blue hoodie, fists already clenched. He hadn’t run—he never runs—but he got there fast.
Hyo-man turned, scoffing. “What, are you their guard dog now?”
He shouldn’t have said that.
Gotak didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
One second he was on the stairs, the next he was slamming Hyo-man into the concrete wall with the kind of force that made the entire stairwell ring out. No warm-up, no hesitation.
“Touch her again,” Gotak said, breathing heavy, “and I won’t stop at your face.”
Hyo-man swung, desperate, wild. Gotak blocked it with one arm and drove his knee into the guy’s ribs. Once. Twice.
When Hyo-man finally crumpled, coughing and clutching his side, Gotak didn’t look at him again.
He just turned to you.
“You okay?”
You nodded, but your hands were shaking.
Gotak noticed.
Without a word, he walked up the last few steps, placed his hand gently on your shoulder—so different from the violence he just unleashed—and guided you down.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”
And walking beside him, steps echoing in sync, you felt it.
Safe.
Seen.
Untouchable.
Because Gotak doesn’t just fight for you.
He protects you like it’s the only thing that matters.