Chapter Text
Two days later, the miracle happened. The triple-payout finally cleared into Soobin’s account.
The moment the notification popped up on Soobin’s screen, a literal shriek echoed from the living room.
Beomgyu practically kicked Soobin’s bedroom door off its hinges with a deafening SLAM, his eyes wide with absolutehysteria as he frantically waved his phone in the air.
"Choi Soobin! Tell me my eyes are not deceiving me!" Beomgyu yelled, jumping straight onto the edge of the mattress, grabbing Soobin by his shoulders and aggressively shaking him back and forth until Soobin's blonde hair whipped around his face.
"We are rich! We are no longer peasant students surviving on the smell of boiling water!"
Beomgyu cheered, grabbing Soobin by the arm and dragging him wildly across the living room.
If he doesn't shut up, the neighbors are going to hear everything!
"Do you know what this means?!" Beomgyu continued, spinning them both into the kitchen with Soobin nearly trippin on the counter, getting dizzy. He forgets how Beomgyu can be so strong sometimes. "I can finally buy that limited-edition designer jacket I’ve been eyeing for three months! We can buy actual groceries! We can buy premium instant ramen!"
"Gyu, please, my ears—" Soobin winced, wiggling his shoulders in a desperate attempt to break free from the iron grip while shielding his throbbing eardrums with his hands.
"No time for ears, we have money to burn!"
"Look at those zeroes! Look at them!"
"I am looking! Just - get your phone out of my eyeball!" Soobin ducked his head, his hands finally managing to pry Beomgyu’s fingers off his shirt. "And don't touch that money yet! We need to make sure the transaction actually clears before you go ruining our credit."
"Clears? Please. A transfer this clean means whoever hired you is loaded and desperate," Beomgyu shot back. "I'm adding the jacket to my cart right now. If the cops show up tomorrow, at least I’ll look expensive."
Soobin watched his cousin aggressively tap at his phone screen, a small, quiet wave of relief once he heard the distant sounds washing over him.
It was a surprise that Beomgyu didn't give a damn about the actual details of Soobin's line of work. He still remembered the sheer terror of the first time he had come clean about it, his hands shaking as he admitted to poking around where he shouldn't—that he could even as much as be put to jail. The perfect Alpha, Choi Soobin, hiding a deep dark side to him that no one would ever think of.
But instead of Beomgyu freaking out or calling him crazy, his cousin had just patted his shoulder, completely unfazed.
"Just make sure you don't get caught," Beomgyu had said simply, giving him a reassuring squeeze.
He had been supportive from day one. He never pried into the shady corners of the dark web or asked who was paying for the midnight decryption scripts. As long as the rent was paid and they weren't getting evicted, Beomgyu was content to let Soobin have his secrets.
Soobin followed him again into his bedroom, leaning against the doorframe.
Still, watching his cousin practically vibrate with overexcitement made Soobin feel a small, nagging twinge of guilt.
It was dangerous money, after all.
"Are you sure we should spend it so fast? I feel a bit guilty blowing it all immediately..."
Beomgyu had stopped his victory dance on the bed, turning to face him with an expression of theatrical offense. "Guilty? Well, if you are, then don't be!” Beomgyu scoffed, planting his hands firmly on his hips and letting out a sharp, dramatic gasp.
He dropped to his knees right on the mattress, looming over Soobin and narrowing his eyes. “I have survived a whole semester of your terrible sleep schedule and your lack of interior design skills.” Beomgyu clasps his hands together beneath his chin, turning on the charm instantly.
“And I deserve the absolute princess treatment!"
Soobin let out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. I really should have prepared myself for this reaction, he thought, kicking himself for underestimating his cousin's sheer shamelessness.
Then, it got worse.
Beomgyu didn't just stop at the declaration—he actively started doubling down on the charm. He shifted his weight, putting on a show of weaponized innocence that made Soobin's internal alarms go off instantly.
"Don't do this. Do not bring out the eyes. Stop."
Beomgyu tilted his head further, blinking slowly as he dropped his voice into a tiny, high-pitched,
“Nya?”
“No! Nuh-uh!”
“You won't get away with this—!” Soobin grabbed a pillow from the bed and shoved it right into Beomgyu’s face, but Beomgyu was already diving sideways, screeching like a banshee as his fingers clawed at Soobin’s ribs.
“Stop—wait! Soobin, I swear to god, don’t you dare—hahaha!” Beomgyu’s threat dissolved into a breathless shriek as Soobin dug his fingers relentlessly into his sides. “I’ll kill you! I’ll—stop, stop! I can’t breathe!”
Within seconds, the room dissolved into a chaotic mess of flailing limbs and breathless wheezing as they aggressively tickled each other, rolling all over the mattress until they finally collapsed side-by-side, gasping for air.
"Wow, you sound really tough for someone who just threatened to murder me through a mouthful of giggles," Soobin teased, a playful glint in his eyes as he caught his breath.
"Don't flatter yourself, big guy," Beomgyu retorted, suddenly pulling out his phone. He snapped three photos in rapid succession while flashing a wink at the camera. "The threat still stands. It's just a conditional murder. It gets pushed back exclusively based on the digits in our shared bank account."
Soobin couldn't help the broad, dimpled smile that broke across his face.
Beomgyu lowered his phone, his eyes scanning Soobin's oversized, frayed cardigan before wide-eyed realization hit his face like a physical jolt. His jaw dropped slightly, an expression of sudden, absolute enlightenment washing over his features as if he had just cracked a universal mystery.
"That is it. I cannot look at this depressing fabric for another second," Beomgyu declared, leaping off the bed. He grabbed Soobin by the sleeve of his oversized cardigan and forcefully hauled him out of his gaming chair. "We have money now, which means you are officially banned from looking like a Victorian orphan. Come on, we're going out. And don't bother calling Taehyunnie—I already tried.”
Beomgyu crossed his arms, letting out a sharp huff as he aggressively tapped his foot against the floor, clearly miffed but mostly just eager to leave.
Soobin watched him, suppressing a smirk. Oh dear, here he goes again, he thought, well-acquainted with his cousin's theatrical sulking. Acting like he isn't completely affected by getting left on read.
"He completely ghosted my texts," Beomgyu grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Said he had some 'errands' to handle off-campus, which is total code for being a boring adult. It's just you and me today."
“A shame.”
“On who?”
“On me, of course.”
“Why you-!”
Some things truly never change, Soobin thought, thoroughly amused by his cousin's predictable outrage.
If there was one thing Soobin secretly enjoyed just as much as a line of code, it was shopping. He actually loved the process of curating an outfit. He’d picked out a completely new, meticulously chosen color palette—opting for soft, aesthetic pastel tones and muted lavenders that perfectly complemented his fresh blonde hair.
It was a massive upgrade, a far cry from the washed-out beige-to-yellow that Beomgyu would have certainly barfed at the sight of.
"Try this on first," Beomgyu ordered, aggressively shoving a thick hanger into Soobin’s chest.
It was a mock-turtleneck made of black linen, paired with a heavy-knit jacket and high-waist, square-cut denim jeans.
When Soobin stepped out of the fitting room, adjusting the collar with a slight, self-conscious tug, Beomgyu let out a low whistle.
The fit completely redefined his frame under the bright boutique lights, the stark black linen clinging to his shoulders and emphasizing just how broad his upper body actually was. The high-waist denim made his legs look impossibly long, cutting a sharp, sleek silhouette that felt entirely too exposed compared to his usual oversized hoodies.
Soobin caught his reflection in the mirror and blinked, his chest tightening slightly as a sudden wave of heat rushed to his ears. He quickly looked away, adjusting the heavy-knit jacket in a sudden fluster.
He looked... visible. Way too visible.
"Yes! That is more like it," Beomgyu cheered, circling him like a proud stylist. "The square cut actually fits your ridiculous height without making you look like you’re wearing floods. Keep it. Definitely keep it."
From there, the shopping spree spiraled into a fast-paced blur of fabrics and colors. Soobin tried on outfit after outfit, his initial hesitation melting away into genuine excitement as he experimented with soft lavender knits and pastel-toned layering pieces that made his fresh blonde hair pop.
The highlight of the afternoon came when Beomgyu pulled an oversized designer jacket from a premium rack- one with line-art detailing along the hem.
Soobin slipped it on.
Beomgyu squealed.
"Oh, we are absolutely documenting this,” instantly whipping out his phone. He crowded into the mirror frame right next to Soobin, leaning his head back, flashing a peace sign, and letting the metal of his new lip piercing glint under the bright studio-level boutique lighting.
Click.
Right next to him, Beomgyu paused.
For a brief, quiet second, his cousin’s chaotic energy completely settled.
His eyes lingered on Soobin's face, taking in the rare, unburdened expression and the distinct lack of academic or financial dread framing his features.
A sudden memory flashed in Beomgyu’s mind.
A deafening crack of lightning from when they were kids. He remembers finding Soobin shoved into a dark corner, crying violently as the storm raged outside. Beomgyu had just stood there at first, completely confused as to why Soobin was suddenly pulling him in and holding him so tightly against his small chest. Beomgyu hadn't heard the danger, hadn't understood the fear, but he could vividly feel the warmth of Soobin's tears soaking right through his shirt.
After that night, it was like something shifted. Years passed, and the last thing he remembers of Soobin looking this relaxed was before the patches appeared on his skin—a physical toll of the timeskip into their harsh reality. Beomgyu got to have regular heats, got to collapse and be taken care of, while Soobin forced himself to be the sole anchor for them both.
But before the moment could get too sentimental, Beomgyu instantly plastered his signature, mischievous grin back on, violently hooking his arm around Soobin's neck to drag him toward the cash register.
"Hey! Let go, you're going to choke me!" Soobin yelps as he stumbles under the sudden weight, l trying to keep the expensive jacket from snagging on Beomgyu's metal jewelry. "I'm literally holding your lunch money, show some respect."
"Please, you're a giant lint roller who got lucky," Beomgyu shot back, releasing him only to shove the rest of the clothing hangers into his arms. "Now hurry up and pay. My creative genius doesn't come cheap, and you owe me a coffee for making you look like a functioning member of society."
"Your creative genius just hauled me around like a mannequin for two hours," Soobin muttered, as he handed his card to the cashier.
"And look at the results.” Beomgyu let his gaze trail deliberately from Soobin's freshly styled hair down to his boots and back up again, playfully wiggling his eyebrows with an exaggerated smirk. “You're welcome."
"Now come on, the caffeine withdrawal is setting in."
Soobin rolled his eyes, adjusting his new turtleneck as they stepped out.
For the first time in months, his shoulders felt light, the heavy anxiety of his late-night coding completely forgotten under the fresh, comfortable fabric.
He just hoped this good mood would last long enough to get him back to the apartment before the universe found another bizarre way to ruin his peace.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
The following Monday, stepping onto the university campus felt entirely different.
The whispers started the exact second Soobin walked through the main gates, but this time, the "Soobin Fanclub" seemed to completely lose its collective mind.
The drab, washed-out cardigans were gone, replaced by the midnight-black linen mock-turtleneck and the structured jacket Beomgyu had picked out. The black fabric contrasted sharply with his bright blonde hair, making his tall frame look incredibly striking.
And viral.
"Oh my god, look at Soobin-ssi..."
"Is he wearing designer? He looks like a model today..."
Before he could even make it to the engineering building, a fresh wave of underclassmen flocked around him, their eyes wide and notebooks forgotten. Soobin offered them a polite, slightly strained smile, nodding along as they lawyered him with compliments about his new style.
The social exhaustion was already creeping in, a familiar weight pressing behind his eyes.
As he finally managed to politely excuse himself from the crowd, a sudden realization struck him.
He reached down, his fingers unconsciously brushing against the medical patch securely sealed on the side of his neck.
Wait... when did I last restock my suppressants?
He ran the math in his head, a small spike of anxiety hitting his chest. Between the chaotic Aetheria match and the late-night data breach into the Choi Syndicate's vault, his schedule had been completely wrecked.
I should probably open my laptop again tonight, he thought with an internal sigh. If I don't check my secure dark-web supplier soon, I’m definitely going to run out by the end of the month. Dropping his scent in the middle of a campus that firmly believed he was a dominant Alpha would be an absolute catastrophe.
Or worse.
Desperate for a single moment of peace, Soobin slipped away from the main pathways, guiding his long legs toward the quiet faculty gardens at the edge of the campus. The air here was cooler, thick with the scent of green leaves, entirely devoid of those eager students.
He shuddered as he remembered the guy from earlier—one of the most famous, popular faces on campus—who had actually gone out of his way to wait for Soobin just to open a door for him. The guy had leaned in, flashing a smooth, practiced smile before dropping a blatant line: "New hair looks dangerous on you, sweetheart. Going anywhere nice?" It was entirely absurd; the guy had never even bothered to look his way before today. All Soobin could do in his sheer panic was slam the door right in the guy's face and bolt through the emergency exit instead.
Ugh, this fresh blonde hair is officially more trouble than it’s worth, he thought, rubbing his temples.
He let out a long, relieved breath, leaning his head back against a stone pillar.
"Tch."
The sharp, irritated click of a tongue shattered the silence.
Soobin’s eyes snapping open.
Sitting on a stone bench just a few feet away, partially hidden by the overhanging ivy, was the familiar red-haired boy.
Yeon-woo.
To Soobin's surprise, the explosive fury from their last encounter was entirely missing. The black mask was back in place, covering the lower half of his face. He didn't look murderous. Wow, look at that, Soobin thought, holding back a wry smile. The theater department's star student is actually taking a recess. I guess holding a permanent dramatic glare really takes a toll on the facial muscles. Instead, Yeon-woo was just leaning his head back against the stone wall with his eyes half-closed.
For someone usually operating on pure, high-adrenaline chaos, it feels completely weird just looking at him like this, Soobin mused. Is this a new method-acting persona he’s practicing, or is he just conserving his energy for his next big vengeful monologue? Honestly, his absolute commitment to this brooding, mysterious rival aesthetic deserves a grade-A script. He’s just standing there like a main character waiting for his cue.
"You're loud even when you're just standing there," Yeonjun said. His voice was surprisingly calm, muffled slightly by the fabric of his mask, stripped of the usual theatrical venom.
Guess not.
"Oh," Soobin blurted out, his tall frame tensing automatically before he relaxed, realizing the smaller boy wasn't throwing some lines today. "Um... are you okay? Your nose... I really am sorry about that."
Yeon-woo didn't move, keeping his eyes fixed on the garden path ahead, though his brow twitched slightly at the mention of the injury.
"It's fine," he replied tamely, adjusting his watch lowly. "Besides, I've had worse scrapes from actual professionals. Getting blindsided by a clumsy giant who clearly can't handle a little afternoon heat isn't exactly going to ruin my week."
Soobin blinked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
The silence that settled over the garden was heavy and profoundly awkward.
He wasn't used to this version of the red-haired boy. This eerie calmness was almost weirder. Makes him wonder why it made him this..
Docile.
"Right. Well... good," Soobin muttered, clearing his throat. He started to take a slow step backward, planning his escape. "I'll just... leave you to your theater lines i guess—?"
"Sit down.”
Soobin hesitated, looking at his pristine new denim jeans, then at the intense, masked boy.
Slowly, reluctantly, his tall frame sank onto the bench, keeping a cautious distance.
"Consider it a truce. For now," Yeonjun let out a long, dry breath through his mask. "I get it now. You're just an idiot. But don't think for a single second that I won't get that match back.”
“I'm going to completely dismantle you."
"What is your problem anyway?" Soobin blurted out, his filter completely dropping gradually. "I don't even remember pissing you off in real life! I mean, yeah, I broke your nose, but you're acting like I ruined your entire life over some - match?."
Yeonjun snapped his head toward Soobin, his calm demeanor instantly fracturing as he got riled up.
"Ruined my life?” Yeonjun hissed, his voice rising in pitch. “You glitched your way into my private lobby, used a garbage starter mage, and played like an unhinged, reckless animal!"
"Excuse me? I am not a garbage starter mage player, my late-game scaling was perfectly viable because I actually know how to build items!" Soobin fired back instantly, his shoulders squaring as he grew deeply defensive of his own skills. In his mind, he was completely missing the hint, his thoughts spiraling into a protective shield over his own pride.
How does this pretentious theater guy even know about my custom match? Did Beomgyu run his mouth to the entire campus?
He's probably just some hard-stuck silver player trying to lecture me because he got a lucky glimpse of my screen or something.
I worked too hard for that win to let some stranger look down on me!
"Viable? That champion has a zero-point-four second animation lock on his primary crowd control!" Yeon-woo threw his hands up, his eyes flashing. "Any player with a functioning brain cell can read that trajectory. You only landed that ultimate because my mouse cable caught on the edge of my keyboard!"
"Oh, sure, blame the keyboard. Classic excuse," Soobin scoffed, his voice dripping with defensive sarcasm as he crossed his arms tightly over his new jacket to shield himself from the criticism. "If you're going to act like some elite pro analyst in the middle of the school garden, at least make it believable. What - are you going to tell me next that your ping spiked to three hundred? I played that lane flawlessly, I baited the engage, and I earned that shutdown!"
"My ping was a solid five milliseconds on a dedicated fiber line, you absolute dumbass!" Yeonjun hissed, stepping closer and crowding Soobin's space, his dark eyes practically throwing sparks. "I don't make excuses. I analyze data. And the data says you're a lucky casual who needs to go back to playing tutorial mode."
"A casual? I have spent three years straight analyzing frame data and mastering the mechanics!" Soobin barked, completely insulted, his voice rising as he passionately defended his own gamer ego. He tilted his head down, glaring right back at the smaller boy. "I can handle a high-stakes rotation perfectly fine, thank you very much! Why are you taking my win so personally anyway?!"
Yeonjun froze, his jaw visibly tightening under his black fabric mask.
He stared at Soobin with a look of profound, ego-shattering disbelief, as if he couldn't comprehend how someone could be this stubborn and entirely clueless at the same time.
"Your win?" Yeonjun repeated, his voice dropping into an incredibly low, dangerously quiet pitch. He ripped his mask down to his chin, exposing his fully irritated face and the white bandage on his nose. "Do you honestly—how can you even sit there looking-?”
“How can you not know who you're talking to right now?!"
"You didn't win by skill, wolf_Gang," Yeonjun hissed, leaning in closer, his knuckles turning white against his knees. "You won because I didn't expect a literal nobody to play with zero self-preservation! It was a micro-second calculation error!"
"Wait..."
Soobin froze, the defensive retort dying on his tongue. Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as he blinked, staring at the boy in front of him. The anger that had been fueling his pride suddenly vanished, replaced by a strange, creeping realization.
He let his eyes trace Yeonjun's features—really looking at him this time. He took in the sharp, piercing, cat-like eyes. The vibrant, fiery red hair. The small, fresh bandage stuck right across the bridge of his nose.
Then, the exact phrasing echoed in his mind. Private lobby... starter mage... wolf_Gang_.
But Soobin didn't even use that specific alternate account anymore, except for—
The gears in his head turned, slowly at first, and then all at once at lightning speed. The haughty, desperate defense of a video game strategy. The absolute, unyielding pride over a fraction-of-a-second mistake. The pieces violently clicked together, sending a massive shockwave straight through his thoughts. His brain entirely short-circuited.
Soobin’s jaw completely dropped.
"Yoon-J?" Soobin choked out, the name slipping past his lips in an uncharacteristic, high-pitched squeak. He raised his hand, pointing a violently trembling finger right at the red-haired boy's face. "You're... you're Yoon-J?!"
"Of course I am, you just honestly realized-?!!" Yeonjun barked, his pride flaring up as he stood up, towering over the sitting Soobin. "Did you think someone else could execute a rotation like that? You think you're so clever behind that screen? You think you're untouchable just because you hid your IP?"
OH MY GOD, Soobin’s internal monologue was screaming, a wave of pure terror and absolute shock crashing over him.
I DIDN'T JUST HIT A WEIRD THEATER STUDENT. I PUNCHED YOON-J IN THE FACE.
AND THEN I CALLED HIM AN OLD MAN ON THE SERVER.
He froze, his brain agonizingly split right down the middle. Should he continue his lecture on macro-second animation locks and defend his item build, or should he drop to his knees right here in the dirt and apologize for ruining his idol's perfect face?
"I—You—" Soobin stammered, his massive frame suddenly feeling incredibly awkward.
Then, a sudden, horrifying realization hit him, cutting right through his panic. Wait a minute.
"How—how do you even know who I am?!" Soobin blurted out, his eyes widening. "How the fuck did you even find me on campus?!"
"That doesn't matter right now!" Yeonjun snapped, waving his hand dismissively. "What matters is your absolute lack of basic lane etiquette!"
"It completely matters!" Soobin argued, his voice pitching up. "Did you track my location? Did you hire a private investigator? Are you stalking me?!"
"I am not stalking you, you arrogant idiot!" Yeonjun fired back, crossing his arms defensively. "Your terrible playstyle is just universally recognizable!"
"That is literally impossible!" Soobin yelled, throwing his hands up. He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he caught a sudden detail behind the fabric of the black mask. "Wait—your lips are trembling! You're totally bluffing right now!"
Yeonjun scowled fiercely, the skin around his eyes tightening as a deep flush of frustration rushed up his neck. He quickly yanked the mask up a fraction higher, trying to hide the telltale sign of his faltering composure.
"Tell me how you found me!"
"I said it doesn't matter!" Yeonjun barked, stomping his foot.
Soobin let out a frustrated groan, rubbing his face. "Fine! Whatever!”
Unbelievable, Soobin thought, a heavy wave of disappointment sinking deep into his chest. This was Yoon-J—the legendary, top-tier player he had admired from afar for months. In his mind, Yoon-J was supposed to be a calm, calculated tactician, a mature pro who commanded respect with effortless grace. Instead, the guy standing in front of him was throwing a literal temper tantrum in the faculty gardens. Recounting the match in his head, Soobin realized the majestic, flawless rival he thought he’d faced was actually just a deeply petty theater major who couldn't let a single loss go. Desperate to salvage whatever was left of his own shattered dignity—and desperately wishing he could piece back together his idol's supposed maturity—Soobin straightened his spine.
“You're actually him," Soobin said, trying to steady his voice. "But... your stream persona is way more... dignified?"
"I am perfectly dignified!" Yeonjun snapped, his eyes narrowing into sharp slits, taking the offense. "What you saw on stream was a rare moment of justifiable frustration. Anyone would be mad if a random account played with such blatant disregard for standard strategy!"
Honestly, Soobin had completely forgotten about the whole streaming drama an hour after it ended anyway. He had been way too occupied and distracted by the massive dark-web payout and the terrifying reality of cracking open the Choi vault.
The gaming loss was tiny compared to that.
"I just played to win," Soobin defended himself, his voice finding its usual blunt footing again. "Besides, it was just one match. I didn't think you'd get this worked up about it."
"Worked up? You called me a washed-up fossil on a public server!" Yeonjun pointed an accusatory finger at Soobin's chest, his eyes flashing with the exact confirmation that he knew exactly who he was dealing with. "And it's not 'just a match' when it happens in front of two million concurrent viewers!"
"Well, hitting you in the hallway was still a complete accident," Soobin pointed out, crossing his arms defensively over his pastel jacket.
"And your nose... really, I am sorry about that part."
"Keep your apologies," Yeonjun huffed, stepping even closer until he was standing right over the bench, his custom suit jacket shifting elegantly. "An apology doesn't fix my flawless record, wolf_Gang."
"It's wolf_Gang_07," Soobin corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to bite his tongue off. "I mean... you really have a long way to go with handling losses, you know."
"My ability to handle losses is fine when I'm playing against opponents who don't talk trash," Yeonjun countered, his voice dropping an octave as the playful irritation began to harden into something much colder.
"I wasn't trash-talking, I was giving constructive feedback," Soobin muttered defensively, leaning back slightly as the sheer intensity of the pro streamer's gaze pinned him to the stone bench.
Yeonjun let his head drop back against the stone framework of the bench with a heavy, exhausted sigh, his eyes closing for a brief fraction of a second.
Between the endless corporate fallout with the syndicate, his tanking network routing metrics, and the relentless headache of his public image, his problems were piling up like a collapsing house of cards. Dealing with a mouthy, blonde campus brat was just icing on the cake.
The sheer absurdity of this encounter had almost made him forget about the actual dark-web hacker who had penetrated his servers earlier.
He needed to step out for a bit.
A temporary truce with this university kid was probably for the best before he actually lost his mind, but he wasn't going to leave without saving a little face first.
Opening his eyes, the tired exhaustion vanished instantly, replaced by that terrifying, calculated intensity.
"Enjoy your little victory while it lasts, sweetheart," Yeonjun purred, his eyes curving into a sharp, dangerous crescent as he leaned down, invading Soobin's personal space with sudden, dramatic flare.
"Ew," Soobin muttered, wrinkling his nose in immediate disgust and pulling his head back. "You definitely sound like an old man when you say things like that."
"You fucki—"
Yeonjun spun on his heel, his designer jacket billowing slightly as he marched out of the faculty garden, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. As the red-haired boy vanished around the corner of the brick walkway, Soobin could still hear a faint, low growling sound echoing in the distance—the unmistakable, petty rumble of Yeonjun's lingering fury vibrating through the quiet air.
Left completely alone on the bench, Soobin slowly let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He brought a hand up, clutching at his chest right over the fine linen of his new mock-turtleneck, trying to steady his hammering heart.
Then, his nose twitched.
A heavy, lingering trace of premium cedarwood still hung thickly in the crisp air around the bench, sharp and entirely overwhelming. Soobin pulled out his phone, catching his own wide-eyed reflection on the dark screen. He quickly checked the medical patch sealed securely against the side of his neck.
Yoon-J must have an incredibly strong scent, he thought, a cold shiver running down his spine. An alpha aura that intense is dangerous. Not like my suppressants ever fail or anything... but being crowded like that is definitely a hazard.
"Soobin hyung?"
The calm, clear voice shattered his frantic thoughts. Soobin blinked and looked up toward the window.
"Oh! Taehyun-ah!" Soobin called out, his tense shoulders instantly dropping as a relieved smile tugged at his lips. He slid his phone back into his pocket. "Hey! How are you? Beomgyu was looking for you the other day. Seriously, he whined nonstop about you missing out on our shopping trip."
Taehyun offered a small, amused smirk, resting his chin in his hand as he looked down at Soobin's sharp new outfit. "I had things to take care of," he replied smoothly, his sharp eyes glinting with a quiet, knowing intelligence. "Besides, I think I managed to do something a lot more productive with my afternoon."
"Productive?" Soobin tilted his head, completely missing the underlying edge in his friend's tone. "Like studying?"
"Not exactly." Taehyun murmured, his smirk widening into something a little more cryptic.
"Let's just say I dropped… a little code that thoroughly ruined a certain someone's day. They're probably dealing with a very stressful, very public headache right about now."
Soobin blinked.
"Uh, well... as long as you're keeping out of trouble," Soobin offered lamely, still too mentally exhausted from his encounter with Yoon-J to press for details.
˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
To celebrate no longer being on the brink of starvation, Beomgyu had forcefully dragged Soobin out of their depressing apartment. He insisted that "money is meant to be flaunted, Choi Soobin, not hoarded like a goblin!" and used his terrifying persuasion skills to get them into an exclusive, underground lounge just off the university strip.
"See? Isn’t this a million times better than staring at code until your eyes bleed?"
Beomgyu shouted over the heavy, thumping bass of the club, leaning against the high VIP-adjacent table they’d splurged on. He looked entirely in his element, wearing a loose, silk designer shirt that sat low on his collarbones, shifting beautifully as he moved. He had let his hair fall loose, the dark, long strands framing his face perfectly, and he’d gone all out by putting in every single one of his ear and brow piercings.
Under the shifting purple and blue strobe lights, his fresh lip piercing glinting like silver, he casually leaned back and flashed a sharp, devastating wink at the men and women alike who were looking their way from the dance floor.
Soobin, on the other hand, was sitting directly in front of him, looking like the absolute definition of an endangered species. He was slumped slightly in his seat, his hands locked tightly around his glass as he continuously side-eyed his cousin with a mixture of sheer judgment and deep anxiety. The contrast between Beomgyu’s radiant, unbothered energy and Soobin's painfully obvious discomfort practically radiated from the table.
"Gyu... I thought some of your friends from the band were coming tonight, but where's Taehyun?" Soobin asked, glancing toward the door.
Beomgyu waved a hand dismissively, taking a sip of his drink. "No, he has homework to do. And he said, quote-on-quote, 'I won't be scammed again,' so yeah, that's why he's not here. He'll try next time."
"No wonder. Even I feel the everlasting consequences of that scam," Soobin pointed out, adjusting his collar as he looked around the increasingly crowded venue. "Besides, since when do you come to clubs like this just to 'test the acoustics'?"
"It's not just testing, hyung, it's networking," Beomgyu countered. "The resident DJ here actually listens to local submissions. I spent the last three days straight editing the master track, barely slept, and practically begged him to put it on the queue for tonight."
"Wait, tonight? As in—"
"Oh, it's starting," Beomgyu cut him off, his face lighting up as the house lights suddenly dimmed, replaced by a sudden, pulsing wave of deep violet and neon blue stroboscopes.
Up on the elevated booth, the DJ raised a hand to the crowd, catching Beomgyu’s eye from across the floor and giving him a thumbs-up. A second later, a heavy, electrifying bassline dropped through the massive venue speakers, a brilliant, high-energy synth melody weaving seamlessly through the rhythm. The transition was flawless, instantly catching the crowd's attention as the dance floor began to move.
Soobin blinked, genuinely stunned as the crisp, studio-level production filled the room.
"Wow... Gyu, this is incredible. Did you actually mix all of this yourself? It’s amazing."
"Hey, I don't just make indie acoustic loops and sad ballad songs, you know," Beomgyu shot back, a proud, triumphant grin breaking across his face as he bobbed his head to the heavy beat. "I'm not that boring or predictable. I told you I wanted to try a deeper, more atmospheric electronic style, and this system is handling the low-ends perfectly."
But as the track hit its peak transition and the bass reverberated through the very floorboards beneath them, the brief distraction faded, and reality slammed right back into Soobin's chest.
He looked around at the flashing lights, the dense crowd, and VIP lounge section just above them.
"Gyu… Are you actually sure this is the right decision?" Soobin asked, his brow furrowing with genuine worry, his voice dropping low so it wouldn't carry over the booming music.
"This place is... it’s a lot. We just got the money two days ago. What if the transaction gets flagged by the bank? What if we're being too reckless?"
Beomgyu let out a loud groan.
"Oh my god, will you stop being such a killjoy?" Beomgyu, a teasing grin pulling at the corner of his lips. "C'mon, you old virgin! Just drink the overpriced juice and live a little!"
"What...?!" Soobin choked out, his jaw dropping as his eyes widened. "What did you just call me?!"
"You heard me, grandpappy!" Beomgyu cackled, entirely delighted by the immediate reaction he had provoked.
He poked a mocking finger directly at Soobin’s chest.
"I am not a grandpappy!" Soobin protested, batting Beomgyu's hand away as his cheeks flushed with indignant heat. "I am practicing financial responsibility! Do you know how much tuition costs this semester?"
"Blah, blah, blah, all I hear is arthritis and complaining," Beomgyu shot back, rolling his eyes dramatically. "You're nineteen, Soobin, not sixty-five. Put the phone away!"
"It's a spreadsheet, Beomgyu! A necessary spreadsheet!" Soobin insisted, desperately holding the screen out of his friend's reach. "If I don't calculate the grocery budget now, we're eating instant ramen for the rest of the month!"
"Then we eat ramen!" Beomgyu yelled back, crossing his arms. "You're sitting here pouting over a bank app while everyone else is having fun. If you don't down at least half of that pink cotton-candy drink in the next ten seconds, I'm telling the entire design department that you sleep with a plushie!"
That was it.
"Oh, you think I'm a coward?” Soobin snapped, grabbing the aggressively neon-pink cocktail and lifted it with an air of absolute, dramatic defiance. “Watch me."
He tipped the glass back, immediately hearing Beomgyu’s loud, chaotic cheering echoing above the thumping bass in the distance. Oh man Soobin thought, swallowing hard as his cousin practically vibrated with victory. It wasn't like he was ever going to admit aloud that this was actually his first time drinking whatever the heck this was. He’d expected it to taste like pure paint thinner, but as the flavors hit his tongue, his eyes widened slightly.
It was actually... really nice.
It had a warm, subtle kick of cinnamon blended smoothly with a sweet, rich blackberry finish.
A few drinks later, the alcohol had softened the sharp edges of the noisy club.
Soobin sat slumped against the leather booth, looking like a giant, pampered cat.
"I have to admit, the lack of instant ramen in my stomach is a nice change," Soobin conceded.
He reached out and playfully flicked Beomgyu’s ear.
"But you’re still a leech. You ordered the most expensive thing on the menu the second my money loaded."
"It’s called a management fee!" Beomgyu retorted, entirely unbothered as he stole a strawberry from Soobin’s drink and popped it into his mouth. "Who forced you to get that dye job? Me. Who makes sure you don't actually wither away into dust? Me. I am the glue holding this family together, Soobin-ah."
Soobin chuckled, a warm, genuine wave of affection washing over him. Despite how loud and dramatic Beomgyu could be, Soobin knew he’d be entirely lost without his cousin’s aggressive caretaking.
They had each other’s backs, always.
"Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Gyu," Soobin murmured softly, clinking his glass against Beomgyu's.
"Anytime, you giant nerd.”
Beomgyu hummed in satisfaction, his eyes bright as he drained the last of his drink in one smooth motion. He hopped off the velvet bench, shaking out his loose shirt and running a hand through his long hair to make sure every strand was perfectly messy. He paused for a moment to catch his reflection in a passing server's tray, smirking at his own piercing-studded reflection before turning back to Soobin.
“Now, stay here. I’m going to go harass the bartender for more snacks," Beomgyu declared, giving Soobin a playful shove before disappearing into the dancing crowd.
Left alone, the sudden lack of Beomgyu's chaotic energy let the exhaustion catch up to Soobin. The heavy bass was starting to make his head throb. He leaned back against the leather booth, his eyes tracking the colorful crowd as he took a slow sip of his drink. A small, fond smile tugged at his lips when he spotted Beomgyu’s dark hair bobbing along, successfully squeezing his way through a dense knot of people toward the main bar with pure, unbothered determination.
But as his gaze drifted further past the dance floor, his smile instantly vanished.
Ugh. Great. Just great.
Way over on the opposite side of the lounge, illuminated by a harsh flash of green strobe light, was a face Soobin had desperately hoped to never see outside of campus. It was Joongduk—that insufferable fourth-year senior from the computer science department who had made it his personal mission to mock Soobin’s "outdated" coding methods during the mid-term evaluations. Joongduk was currently holding court by a row of high-top tables, loudly laughing and gesturing wildly with a drink in his hand, looking every bit the arrogant, preppy elite he claimed to be.
Soobin let out a low, irritated huff, looking down at his glass. The sheer amount of unnecessary data his brain was being forced to process right now was overwhelming. University rivalries, petty academic snobs, deafening music... it was a sensory nightmare. Though, Soobin thought, a tiny bit of relief settling into his chest as he smoothed down his soft lavender pastel shirt.
Still, the suffocating heat of the main floor was getting to be too much.
Squeezing his eyes shut against a rising migraine, he stood up, deciding to escape the crowded room entirely to find the restrooms or a quieter hallway to catch his breath.
Navigating through the heavy crowd, Soobin used his tall frame to naturally part the sea of dancing bodies. Then, his eyes widened in pure panic when a glamorous woman suddenly drifted right into his path, boldly pushing herself up closer to his chest with a playful, sultry grin.
Oh, absolute nightmare, Soobin's brain screamed, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. If Beomgyu catches sight of this, I am never hearing the end of it. He will literally print out a screenshot of my face right now and tape it to the refrigerator.
"Well, aren't you a hottie?" the woman purred, leaning in closer as she tilted her head up to meet his frantic gaze. "You look a little lost, sweetheart. Want me to help you find your way around?"
"I—uh—no, thank you! I'm just—looking for the, um, exit—I mean, the bathroom!" Soobin stammered, his legal voice cracking completely as his face flushed a violent, bright crimson that clashed horribly with his blonde hair. Aggressively averting his eyes, Soobin looked anywhere but down at her while ducking his head, awkwardly side-stepping around her with the clumsy grace of a startled giraffe.
Letting out a long, relieved sigh, Soobin ran a hand through his blonde hair and leaned back against the wall, desperately waiting for his racing heart to calm down. Seeking proper sanctuary, he ducked into the nearby restroom and tightly gripped the edges of the porcelain bathroom sink. He kept his eyes shut, taking slow, deliberate breaths until the dizzying thump in his chest finally settled.
Once he felt a bit more grounded, he pushed the door open and stepped back out into the quiet corridor.
"Sneaking out of the restroom like a criminal, Soobin? I saw you bolt from the main lobby earlier."
Soobin’s posture instantly stiffened. Ugh, Joong-dok. He must have noticed the door click open from across the hall.
Joong-dok strolled over, a patronizing smirk plastered across his face as he looked Soobin up and down, his eyes lingering on the new hair with clear disdain.
"Nice look, Soobin. Trying a bit too hard to stand out, aren't we? Though I guess you need something to distract from your actual work." He chuckled nastily, leaning against the lockers. "Are you still trying to push that sad little coding project of yours? Seriously, why won't you just focus on your engineering course? It’s not like you’re actually gonna be valedictorian or anything. Save yourself the embarrassment."
Usually, Soobin would just bite his tongue, offer a tight, polite nod, and endure the demeaning comments until Joong-dok got bored and walked away. He hated conflict, and keeping his head down was always his default strategy.
But today, things were a little different.
Today, Soobin was discovering that high-sugar, neon-pink cotton candy drinks possessed an unexpected chemical reaction with his system, unlocking a side of him he usually kept buried deep down.
"At least I'm actually coding, Joong-dok," Soobin replied, his voice entirely steady and ringing clear in the quiet hallway. "Which is more than can be said for someone who spent three hours last week crying in the lab because he accidentally deleted his entire repository, forgot to back it up on GitHub, and had to beg a freshman to rewrite his basic syntax loop."
Joong-dok’s patronizing smirk instantly vanished, his face turning an angry, violent shade of crimson. "You—"
"And let's be real, your entire reputation in the department is a joke," Soobin continued smoothly, hitting a stride he didn't even know he possessed. "Everyone knows you don't even know how to manually configure an environment path. You literally had to ask the department group chat why your terminal wasn't working, only for someone to point out you hadn't even installed Python."
Joong-dok opened his mouth like a fish out of water, his chest heaving as he pointed a trembling finger at Soobin. "That was—it was a glitch in the IDE—"
"Right, a glitch. Just like how you 'glitched' into taking credit for the engineering club's open-source showcase," Soobin tacked on, completely unfazed. "Bro doesn't even know how to read a basic merge conflict. You panicked and closed the entire pull request because you thought a couple of red lines meant you broke the university's mainframe."
"Listen here, you arrogant piece of—" Joong-dok stammered, stepping forward, trying to find a single, solid counterargument to salvage his dignity.
"Oh, and my personal favorite," Soobin added, leaning in just a fraction, the neon-pink cocktail sugar rush completely piloting his brain now. "Everyone in the lab knows you still use 'password123' for your root access because you can't remember anything more complex. Should I keep going, or do you want to keep talking about my coding projects?"
Joong-dok stood entirely frozen, utterly at a loss for words, his face shifting from a furious red to a humiliated, pale white. His throat bobbed as he choked on his own anger, completely deflated by the sudden, ruthless onslaught.
Before Joong-dok could finish his sentence, raise a fist, or even scream back at Soobin, the heavy door at the end of the hall swung open.
A sharp, unmistakable presence stepped through the threshold, accompanied by the muffled, thumping bass of the main room. The newcomer moved with effortless grace, his vibrant red hair catching the and a dark designer jacket structuring his frame. Soobin, still riding the high of his own verbal victory, didn't even bother to glance over at first, assuming it was just another clubgoer looking for the exit.
Joong-dok, however, froze entirely in his tracks.
His jaw slackened, his eyes bulging as all the color drained from his face. He knew exactly who those sharp, cat-like eyes belonged to-neveryone with a shred of self-preservation in the city knew the face of the young heir to the family that practically owned the sector.
Soobin, however, remained entirely, blissfully clueless. When he finally looked back, his eyes widened in surprise. Seeing his chaotic gaming rival wander right into the hall, he simply sighed and gestured toward Joong-dok. "See? Perfect timing. Tell this guy that macro-efficient coding actually matters, Yoon-J."
Joong-dok let out a strangled, horrified gasp.
He frantically grabbed Soobin by the sleeve, tugging him back with a violently trembling hand.
"Man! What are you doing?!" Joong-dok hissed, his voice a frantic, terrified whisper. "Shut up! You're gonna get killed!"
"What?" Soobin blinked, looking down at his senior's iron grip on his sleeve. He leaned away from Joong-dok, throwing an arm out toward Yeonjun dramatically.
"What do you mean? Why are you acting like he's dangerous?”
Soobin scratches his ear.
“Man, I know I'm good at the game, but having a whole fan club follow me into the hallway is a bit much!" Soobin let out a laugh, completely misinterpreting the sheer terror in the room. "Like, I get it, my starter mage playstyle is legendary, but even you're a gamer, Joong-dok? Are you seriously fanboying right now? Look at him, why are you standing there looking like a brooding anime villain, Yoon-J? Get out of the way before you get crushed by an angry engineering senior!"
"Excuse me?" Yeonjun snapped, his eyebrows twitching in sheer disbelief as he stared at the two of them.
"I'm just saying!" Soobin rambled on, his voice suddenly stretching out, the vowels elongating as the neon-pink cotton candy cocktail completely overrode his system all at once. He tried to shrug Joong-dok off, gesturing wildly. "Like... you're a great streamer, Yoon-J, really, top-tier... but you can't just follow me around. I know exactly who I'm talking to. You're the theater kid who throws tantrums over pixel strategies! And you, Joong-dok, stop pulling my sleeve- it's a new mock-turtleneck, v-very expensive... very linen…”
“Seriously, why are you shaking? He's just a dramatic drama major, he's not going to do anything!"
"Soobin, you actual idiot, shut your mouth!" Joong-dok squeaked out, his voice cracking as he took a frantic step backward, desperately trying to drag Soobin's massive frame with him to show they meant no disrespect to the terrifying heir.
"You don't understand, he will literally erase you from the student directory!"
"Because you're acting weirdly intimidating for a guy who lost a 1v1!" Soobin insisted to Yeonjun, throwing his hands up in despair before looking back at Joong-dok. "Don't worry about him, Joong-dok, he has zero self-preservation. Why are you both being so... so dramatic right now...?"
Soobin’s words began to trail off, slurring together into a mumble. He blinked slowly, his eyelids heavy as his frame gave a sudden sway to the left.
."Is... is he drunk?" Yeonjun asked, his tone dropping from sharp irritation to sheer bewilderment.
Did he seriously get hammered off a cotton candy drink?
As Soobin tilted further on his axis, Joong-dok instinctively reached out a trembling hand to catch the younger boy's arm.
But before Joong-dok's fingers could even brush the fabric, Yeonjun moved with lightning speed. He stepped forward, his hand snapping out to firmly catch Soobin by the forearm, stabilizing his massive weight with surprising ease.
Once Soobin was securely anchored against him, Yeonjun snapped his head up.
He glared hard at Joong-dok, his eyes narrowing into a lethal, icy stare that promised absolute ruin if the senior didn't move in the next millisecond.
"What are you waiting for?"
Yeonjun let out a sharp, irritated breath, entirely ignoring Soobin's frantic, clueless babbling.
Without even glancing at the trembling Joong-dok, he raised a single hand and gave a casual, dismissive wave toward the shadows of the corridor.
From the darkness, two massive, impeccably dressed men in tailored black suits stepped forward.
Soobin’s jaw dropped, his eyes twitching as he stared at the absolute behemoths closing in on them.
His brain, heavily compromised by neon sugar, completely failed to grasp the dangerous gravity of the situation and instead lurched in an entirely ridiculous direction.
"Huh?" Soobin blurted out, a clumsy hand waving loosely at the guards. "Wait... are those... your stage managers? Is this a flash mob...?"
He blinked heavily, his thoughts derailing into a slow, slurred mumble as he leaned heavily into Yeonjun’s grip. "Okay, well... I guess... famous streamer is filthy rich. But hiring private muscle... just to look cool on campus? That's... so extra, Yoon-J... what's the budget...?"
With stone faces, they grabbed Joong-dok by the elbows and forcefully guided him down toward the exit. Soobin noted hazily that his senior looked absolutely pale as a sheet, the man's bravado completely evaporated. Joong-dok didn't even attempt to fight back. He just let himself be swept away, shooting Soobin one final, pitying look of absolute terror as he whimpered quietly.
As the heavy exit doors loomed closer, Joong-dok had one final, frantic thought racing through his panicked mind.
That guy... I don't even know what I just witnessed, but he's dead!
He's absolutely dead!
Once the corridor fell completely silent again, Yeonjun adjusted his grip, his eyes dropping to the younger boy who was still listing heavily to the side.
"Too hammered to even stand?" The proximity instantly made Soobin’s internal alarms blare.
He clumsily backed away, untangling his arm from Yeonjun's hold and leaning his shoulder against the cold wall for support. As he did, he caught a strange, unreadable look flashing in Yoon-J’s eyes. something dark, intense, and entirely unbothered by Soobin's regular defenses.
Soobin blinked heavily, his sluggish brain noting the shift, but he was too dazed to truly mind it.
Yeonjun let his hand fall back to his side, a slow, dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Well then... now that that bastard isn't here to interrupt..."
Before Soobin could process the words, Yeonjun stepped into his space, his hand snapping out to fist directly into the collar of Soobin’s mock-turtleneck.
With a sudden, sharp jerk, Yeonjun pulled him down, forcing Soobin to tilt forward until they were practically eye-to-eye.
The abrupt movement sent a jolt straight to Soobin's system, cutting clean through the hazy fuzz. The expensive scent of cedarwood and cold metal rushed into his senses, entirely enveloping him as a sudden, suffocating heat flared between them.
Yeonjun’s eyes locked onto his, dead serious and entirely devoid of the petty gaming rival Soobin thought he knew.
"I'm sick and tired of playing this circus with you," Yeonjun whispered, his breath hot against Soobin's skin.
"I'll show you exactly who I am."
Soobin’s heart slammed violently against his ribs, his breath hitching in his throat as the reality set in.
I am in so much trouble.