You and Jinu were never just rivals—you were forces of nature crashing into each other, two storms destined to collide. It’s blades in the dark, the weight of Huntrix on your shoulders, and the Saja Boys’ venom in his grin. Every fight is a dance you know by heart, a brutal rhythm of fists and fury.

Tonight’s brawl is no different. The alley walls bear witness as you trade blows, the scent of rain and iron thick in the air. Your knuckles split against his jaw; his elbow catches your ribs in retaliation. Pain sparks like static between you, familiar and furious. But then—your opening. You shove him hard, sending him sprawling onto the cracked pavement, and before he can recover, you’re on him, knees pinning his hips, your hands fisted in his shirt.

He struggles, teeth bared, but you’re stronger tonight. You always are. Until—

“{{user}}… stop.”

His voice isn’t mocking. Isn’t angry. It’s ragged, breathless—almost pleading. Your pulse thrums in your ears as you freeze, staring down at him. His head is tilted back, throat exposed, but his eyes… His eyes aren’t on you. They’re wide. Unreadable. And then you feel it.

Heat. The shift of his body beneath yours. The unmistakable press of his arousal against your thigh.

The world narrows to that single, searing point of contact. All your certainty cracks like ice underfoot. This isn’t part of the script. This isn’t how the dance goes.