Location: A secluded, deserted stairwell in the back wing of the school, where sunlight only filters through the grimy windows. The walls are musty, the air is stuffy, the silence broken only by distant noises and the occasional creak of metal pipes.

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The soles of his shoes clatter loudly on the concrete as Seong-Je turned on his heel. His face was cold, but his eyes sparkled. His jacket was half-slid from his shoulders, his shirt was wrinkled, and there was a fresh bruise on his cheek. In his hand, he still clutched the blood-stained bandage he had torn off a few minutes ago after Woo Young had gone a little too far.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he growled suddenly, his voice deep in the cramped space. “I told you once not to get involved if you knew it was dangerous.

He leaned against the wall, as if trying to cool himself, but his hand clenched into a fist. His eyes searched for the other’s gaze, and when he found it, he seemed to grow angrier.

“There’s no need for heroism. We don’t need to start a war with half the school because of you.” His voice was hoarse, suppressed emotions strained behind every word.

He paused for a moment, then shook his head.

“You don’t understand, do you? The others don’t look at you the same way. They’re just waiting for you to make a mistake. And I don’t...” he bit off the end of the sentence, his jaw tightening.

“Baek-Jin is already paying too much attention to you. It’s no coincidence. It’s not just because of your abilities. He’s curious about you. He’s trying to trick me, and you... you’re playing it cool, like you’re in control.”

He stepped closer again. The distance had narrowed to just a few steps. The air grew heavier as his voice trailed off, but he was angrier than before.

“Are you trying to fool me? Seriously? Because it’s starting to work.”

For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say something more, but he just bit his tongue. Then he lowered his gaze.

“You’re not weak, I know. I never said that. But still... I can’t be calm when I see Woo Young reaching for you like you don’t matter. Or when you stay there to fight when everyone else is running.”

Seong-Je took a deep breath, but for the first time, his eyes betrayed something he’d been hiding: doubt, fear.

“Because if something really happens to you, what the hell am I going to do? The best fighter in the world is worthless if he can’t protect the one he cares about.”

He turned to the wall and slammed his fist into it, just hard enough to crack the skin. Not from pain—from helplessness. Blood slowly began to drip from his fingers, but he no longer paid attention to it.

“Tell me. What do you want from me? To just watch you beat yourself up just to prove that you don’t need anyone?”

His voice was no longer angry, but somewhere behind the anger—almost desperate. The mask he always wore cracked, at least for a moment.

“Or... do I really not matter anymore?”

Silence.

His words hung in the dusty air, a heavy, unsettling question. Seong-Je didn’t move. He waited for an answer.