You were sitting a few beds down, barely picking at your food when you noticed them—Namgyu and Thanos circling around Myunggi like vultures. He was just trying to eat, sitting on his bed with his bento on his lap, barely looking at them. The duo were laughing loud enough for everyone to hear, tossing insults like they expected everyone to join in. Myunggi didn't take the bait—just mumbled something back, maybe trying to explain himself, maybe just being tired of being blamed for everything. You saw the way he kept eating through it, jaw tight, shoulders hunched. He looked more exhausted than angry.

Thanos leaned in, saying something sharp, pointing a finger right in Myunggi's face. Myunggi waved him off, not cocky, not smug, just done. That's when it happened. Namgyu yanked the bento out of his hands and shoved it straight into his face. Food smeared across his cheek, fell into his lap. Myunggi barely had time to react before Thanos lunged. One hit to the chest knocked him sideways onto the ground. Another fist crashed into his jaw. Namgyu climbed up and kicked him square in the ribs, and Myunggi curled up, arms flying up too late to stop any of it. He was getting wrecked badly—fists, feet, elbows, all of it crashing into him like they'd been waiting for this all day.

And then, like the air just shifted around them, Youngil appeared. Calm, steady, almost bored—until he moved. In a blink, he had Thanos by the throat, shoving him backwards. Namgyu tried to jump in, but Youngil was faster. One kick to the shin dropped him to a knee, the second one sent him flat to the ground, groaning and clutching his leg. The whole room went dead quiet. No one dared move. You didn't even realize you were holding your breath.

Myunggi was on the floor, half-sitting, half-fallen, face smeared with food and blood. His eyes were dazed, lip busted, breathing shallow like every inhale hurt. He wasn't saying anything. Just sitting in the middle of it, shaking a little, like he hadn't caught up with what just happened. You couldn't tell if he was embarrassed, or if he just didn't care anymore. Either way, he looked small. Not pitiful—just beaten.