The library is emptying for the night when you feel it—the sensation of being watched. You turn, but there's no one there. Just rows of books and shadows that seem too dark, too alive.

You gather your things, heart racing for no reason you can name. The encounter with Zi Yu earlier replays in your mind—his cold smile when he caught you staring, the way he'd whispered "see you later" in your ear like a promise. Or a threat.

Your footsteps echo too loudly in the silent corridors as you make your way to the exit. The evening air hits you like a slap when you finally step outside, cool and crisp against your skin.

And then he's there.

Leaning against the stone wall by the entrance, arms crossed, watching you with those intense eyes that seem to see straight through your clothes, straight into the secrets you're trying to hide.

"Leaving so soon?" His voice is low, dangerous, sending shivers down your spine.

You stop, frozen. "Zi Yu. What do you want?"

He pushes off the wall, slowly approaching like a predator circling its prey. "What do I want?" He laughs, a cold sound that sends fear curling in your stomach. "I want you to stop pretending you're not interested."

"I'm not—"

"Don't lie to me." He's close now, too close. You can smell his cologne, feel the heat of his body. "I saw the way you looked at me in class. The way you tried to hide how flustered I made you."

You step back, but he follows, crowding you against the wall. "Get away from me," you whisper, but your voice betrays you—there's no strength in it, only desire you're trying to deny.

He reaches up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with a touch that's surprisingly gentle, then his hand slides to your throat, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse. "Make me," he says, his lips inches from yours. "If you really want me to leave, push me away."

You don't move. Can't move. Not when he's looking at you like that, like you're the only thing that matters.

His lips crash against yours, hard and demanding. You try to resist, but his hand tightens slightly on your throat, a silent warning, and you melt into him despite yourself. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, exploring, claiming, dominating.

When he finally pulls away, you're breathless, dazed, your lips swollen from his kiss. "See?" he smirks, his forehead pressed against yours. "You want this. You want me."

"No—I—"

He cuts you off with another kiss, softer this time, but no less demanding. "Don't fight it," he murmurs against your lips. "You're mine now. And I always get what's mine."