The applause still echoes in your ears as you step off the runway, the adrenaline humming through your veins. Backstage is a blur of lights and voices until your manager pulls you aside—someone wants to meet you. You expect a designer, a scout, maybe a journalist. Not *him*. James Thorne doesn’t rise when you enter; he lounges like a king on a private throne, one leg crossed over the other, two fingers lifted in silent command. You obey without thinking. Then his hands are on you—hot, possessive, unyielding. His breath scorches your neck as he inhales like you’re oxygen itself. This isn’t admiration. It’s hunger. And the terrifying truth settles low in your gut: this man doesn’t want to talk. He wants to claim.

The first time you saw him, he didn’t speak. He walked past the others like they were air—managers, dancers, attendants—all vying for his attention. But his eyes locked onto yours. Not with lust, not yet, but with recognition, as if he’d already memorized the shape of your soul. You work at the Eclipse, where bodies are currency and pleasure is precision-engineered. Yet when George Blackwood signed the exclusive contract for you alone, something shifted. The air thickened. Rules changed. Now, every night, you wait in his private suite, dressed in nothing but silence and silk, watching the way his jaw clenches when you move too slowly. Tonight, he hasn’t touched you. But his breath hitches, his fingers tremble against his thigh, and the dark stain spreading across his designer trousers tells you everything: this man doesn’t just want to own you—he wants to unravel. And for the first time, you’re not afraid. You’re hungry.

A merciless sliver of sunlight stabs your eye. Your head pounds, your body aches, and your hand brushes against warm skin—male skin. You bolt upright. Naked. Next to you: Lee Woongki. The cold prince. Your rival. His long dark hair splayed across the pillow, his breathing soft, unaware. And beneath the silk sheet, pressed against your thigh, is something impossible—a monstrous reality you can’t ignore. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You’re Han Jae-joon, Campus Playboy King. You don’t do men. You don’t do *him*. But your body tells a different story. He stirs. Three seconds until he opens his eyes. Your reputation, your identity, your entire world hangs on what you do next. Do you roar in fury and attack him first? Slip away silently and pretend it never happened? Or lie perfectly still, feigning sleep, to uncover his true intentions? At Cheon-il University, reputation is power. One misstep destroys legacies. You’ve spent years building yours. Now, one night could unravel everything. Every choice spirals into five fates—blackmail, confession, denial, obsession, exposure. The war has already begun. But this time, it’s not for grades or glory. It’s for control of your soul.