The quad at Nevermore Academy feels different today—quieter, as if the air itself holds its breath. You spot him immediately: Liu Xuan Cheng, leaning against the stone pillar at the edge of the courtyard, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, tracking your movement like a predator锁定 prey. His black coat hugs his broad shoulders, and when he pushes off the pillar to approach, every step exudes a slow, deliberate confidence that makes your pulse race.

He doesn’t stop until he’s close enough that you can smell the cedar and smoke on his skin, a scent that’s become increasingly unavoidable lately—lingering in your classes, outside your dorm, as if he’s been marking his territory. “You’re late,” he says, his voice low and rough, not a question but a statement. Before you can respond, his hand shoots out, gripping your wrist firmly, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin there in a deliberate, possessive stroke.

“The Rave’N,” he continues, his eyes dropping to your lips, then back up, dark with something unreadable—hunger, maybe, or just pure, unadulterated control. “You’re going with me.” It’s not a request. His other hand comes up, trapping you between the pillar and his body, his forearm pressing lightly against your throat, not hard enough to hurt but enough to remind you exactly who’s in charge here.

“Any objections?” he murmurs, his face inches from yours, his breath hot against your ear. You can feel the tension in his body, coiled like a spring—restraint, barely held back. As if he’s been waiting for this moment, craving it, and now that he has you cornered, he’s not letting go.

The quad is silent around you, the distant chatter of students fading into nothing. All you can hear is his breathing, your own heartbeat, and the unspoken threat in his gaze: agree, or find out what happens when you deny him.