𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐄𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

• EPSIODE:- 28

YN’s POV

After walking for a few minutes, I found myself standing in front of that room.

That door.

Ugh.

I don’t even want to take his name. But who’s even taking his name here? Not me. He’s a jerk. Not that Jun-whatever—ugh, stop.

Should I knock?

I stared at the door, my fingers twitching.

Why would I knock?

Because I’m polite? Hell no.

Because I want to make sure he knows I’m here? Even worse. Because I don’t want to give him the slightest satisfaction of thinking I’m here begging to meet Koa?

There it is.

I swear to God, if he so much as shakes his head, I will personally rearrange his facial features.

But first… I need to get inside.

No knocking. No hesitation.

I gripped the door knob, took a deep breath, and slowly turned it.

The door creaked as I pushed it open, peeking inside—

And there he was.

I couldn’t see his face. His back was turned toward me, his broad shoulders rising and falling steadily as he stood near the dresser, seemingly lost in thought.

For a second, I hesitated. Maybe I should’ve knocked. Maybe I should’ve waited. Maybe—

Then, before I could decide, he reached for the hem of his shirt.

My brows furrowed. What the hell is he doing?

And then—within a second—he pulled it over his head, tossing it aside like it was nothing. But it wasn’t nothing.

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat as my gaze landed on—

His back.

Scarred. Deep. Violent. Unforgiving.

Long, jagged slashes ran across his skin like cruel reminders of battles fought and endured. Some had faded into rough ridges, but others… others were still raw, still haunting.

A dull ache formed in my chest.

I knew he was dangerous. I knew he was powerful. I knew he wasn’t the kind of man who had an easy life. But this…

This wasn’t just the past.

This was survival.

This was suffering.

Who did this to him?

My fingers twitched at my sides. The same man who stood before me like an unshaken storm, who spoke with a voice as sharp as a blade and walked like the world belonged to him—he carried this on his skin?

Why?

Why did I care?

I hated him. I loathed him.

But right now, standing here, staring at the silent proof of something I couldn’t begin to understand… I couldn’t find the hatred.

Only questions.

Only disbelief.

I don’t know what I expected when I stepped inside. Maybe an argument, maybe a cold glare, maybe his usual arrogance. But this?

This was something

For a second, just a second, my feet stopped moving. Not because I felt bad. Not because I pitied him. No, I don’t do that. Especially not for him.