[+..••²]

[+..••] 𝖁ᥱᥣ᥎ᥱ𝗍 𝕮һᥲіᥒs

The hallways of Seoul High didn't buzz-they bowed.

When Baek Iseul walked through the front gate, silence followed. Not out of fear. Not exactly. It was respect, wrapped in whispers and stares. The kind that said:

She runs this place.

Black cropped jacket, pleated skirt, lip gloss just shiny enough to distract-she was dressed for war, even if the battlefield today was just lockers and rumors.

Behind her?

Go Kyung-jun, sunglasses on, hoodie half-zipped, grin permanently fixed like he owned the air.

Park Seungtae, more serious. All black, hands in his pockets, gaze like a knife searching for a reason.

And that was the thing.

Wherever Iseul went-they followed.

Not like bodyguards. Not like boys with crushes.

Like predators who'd already picked their queen and dared anyone to question it.

"Wasn't that him from last night?" someone whispered from the stairwell as Kyung-jun passed.

"Yeah, but he doesn't even look tired."

"Does he ever?"

The whispers rolled behind them like smoke. But Iseul didn't slow.

She stopped by her locker-third floor, center hallway, the one under the skylight. Her spot.

She didn't need to open it. Didn't even glance inside. She just leaned back against the metal, arms crossed.

"Any idiot touch your stuff today?" Kyung-jun asked, eyes scanning the hallway like it personally offended him.

"No," she said simply.

"Want someone to?" Seungtae added from her other side.

Iseul rolled her eyes, but a small smile tugged at her lips.

"Relax. I'm not glass."

"Not glass," Kyung-jun agreed. "But breakable? Nah. You're the one doing the breaking."

That earned him a look from Seungtae.

Kyung-jun smirked back. Always pushing.

Across the hallway, some first-year bumped into a desk by accident-made eye contact with Iseul-and froze like he'd seen a ghost.

Kyung-jun tilted his head. "Do we know him?"

Seungtae straightened up slightly. "Wanna?"

Iseul held up a hand. "We're not mauling freshmen before homeroom. Chill."

Both boys backed off. Instantly.

Because Iseul didn't command with volume-she commanded with presence.

She was the power in the room. And they? They were just the hands that enforced it.

Still, the tension lingered.

Kyung-jun nudged her shoulder. "You looked hot last night, by the way."

Seungtae didn't say anything. But his silence was loud.

Iseul smirked. "I always do."

⸻

The bell rang.

But no one moved until she did.

The Royals weren't just feared. They were watched. Studied. Imitated and misunderstood.

And as they walked toward class-one girl in the middle, two boys flanking her like shadows-there was no mistaking it:

She didn't rule Seoul High.

She owned it.

⸻

They slid into their usual seats at the back of the classroom-last row, corner windows, where the sun hit just enough to make everyone else jealous.

Iseul took the middle seat, dropping her bag with a soft thud, pulling her phone out without a glance.

Kyung-jun plopped into the seat beside her like gravity had pulled him straight into orbit. He leaned in, head tilted, voice low.

"You got lip gloss on?" he asked, gaze flicking to her mouth.

"Maybe," Iseul replied, scrolling like she wasn't entertained.

He grinned. "Is it dangerous?"

"Why?" she asked without looking up. "Scared to kiss me and die?"

"Scared I might kiss you and never recover."

She almost laughed-but she was better trained than that.

Seungtae, from the other side, scoffed. "You're allergic to humility, aren't you?"

Kyung-jun turned, hand over his chest. "What, you jealous?"

"Of what?" Seungtae snorted. "Your budget pick-up lines or your delusions?"

Iseul finally looked up, brow raised. "Boys."

Kyung-jun didn't flinch. "He's mad I got here first."

Seungtae leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "I'm mad you got here at all."

"Tell that to my seat," Kyung-jun said, kicking his feet up casually on the empty desk in front of him. "Looks like it likes me."

"Just like your ego-empty and in the way."

That earned a low whistle from a student two rows over, trying to pretend they weren't listening while absolutely listening.

Iseul rested her chin in her hand. "Can you two flirt with me instead of each other?"

That shut them both up for exactly 0.3 seconds.

Then Kyung-jun looked straight at her and said, "I'm always flirting with you."

Seungtae didn't say it-but he didn't need to.

His eyes were already on her, sharp and unreadable.

That was the difference.

Kyung-jun gave his affection like sugar.Seungtae guarded his like a loaded weapon.

⸻

The teacher walked in late-again.

Didn't bother to acknowledge the Royals.

Didn't dare to.

The lecture started, something about literature or ancient history-but none of the three were listening.

Kyung-jun leaned closer again, voice softer now, like a secret.

"You coming to the next fight night?"

Iseul turned her head slowly. "Wouldn't miss it."

He smiled, then nodded toward Seungtae.

"You want him to fight for you this time?" he asked, totally unserious. "Or should I keep proving I'm the favorite?"

Seungtae glanced at him, then back at the front. "I don't fight for her."

Iseul smirked, catching it before he could clarify.

"She fights with me."

Kyung-jun looked at her. Then grinned.

"And here I thought you liked it when we bled a little."

Iseul's lips twitched.

"I like it when you bleed a lot."

⸻

The bell rang before anyone noticed class was over.

But the Royals?

They were already gone before the hallway flooded again.

⸻

Iseul stayed behind after class, leaned against the teacher's desk like she owned the school-and maybe she did.

She was talking to Mr. Lee, something about rearranging seats, not that she cared where she sat. She just liked testing how much power she had over everyone. Teachers included.

Across the room, a second-year lingered by the door. Backpack in hand. Shirt too neat. Eyes locked on her like he forgot how to blink.

Big mistake.

Kyung-jun saw it first. The way the guy's gaze stuck to her face. The way his hands fidgeted, like he wanted to say something.

Seungtae noticed it next. But unlike Kyung-jun, he didn't smirk-he stared back. Blank and sharp.

The kid looked nervous. Too nervous. Which meant this wasn't the first time he'd looked at her like that.

Kyung-jun stepped in front of Iseul as she wrapped up with Mr. Lee, casually tossing an arm around her shoulder like it belonged there.

"So," he said loudly, eyes never leaving the boy. "You lost, or just bold?"

The kid blinked. "I-I wasn't-"

"Staring?" Seungtae finished flatly. "You were."

"Hyung, I didn't mean anything-"

"That's funny," Kyung-jun said. "Because it looked like you meant a lot."

The tension tightened. Students passing by slowed down. Someone paused to take a video.

The boy tried to back away.

That was when Ki-tae finally strolled in. Twenty minutes late to school, no bag, black hoodie half-zipped, iced coffee in hand like he just came from a music video shoot.

He took one look at the scene, sipped his drink, and sighed dramatically.

"Are we threatening freshmen before lunch again?" he said, bored. "God, it's always the same with you two."

Kyung-jun didn't even glance back. "You're late."

"I'm fashionably indifferent," Ki-tae replied, breezing past them and clapping the scared kid on the shoulder.

"Run along, Romeo. They won't kill you. Yet."

The boy nodded fast and bolted.

Seungtae stepped closer to Kyung-jun. "You let him off easy."

"Please," Ki-tae cut in, dropping into Iseul's now-empty seat like it was his throne. "You're just mad she didn't notice him first."

Kyung-jun tilted his head. "Jealousy looks good on you."

Ki-tae smiled lazily. "Nope. That's your thing. I don't fight over people."

He looked at Iseul, who'd been silent this whole time, just watching.

"You good?" Ki-tae asked.

She nodded once. "He wasn't worth my time."

Ki-tae raised his drink in a toast. "Neither are most people."

And just like that, the fire fizzled-redirected, delayed.

But not forgotten.

⸻

Lunch at Seoul High wasn't about food. It was about power.

The cafeteria buzzed with noise and nerves-until the Royals walked in. Then, everything dipped into a hush. Not full silence. Just... awareness. The kind that spread across tables like a dropped secret.

Iseul led the way, hair tied up in a sharp ponytail, blazer slung over one shoulder, skirt just above the line of "school-appropriate."

Kyung-jun and Seungtae flanked her like they were born to.

Ki-tae trailed behind, sipping his drink, earbuds in, pretending he wasn't with them while walking exactly in sync.

Their table-far back, elevated slightly, meant for faculty back in the day-belonged to them now. Everyone knew it.

Iseul sat first. Kyung-jun dropped into the seat beside her like it was a throne he let her borrow.

Seungtae slid in on her other side, setting his tray down without a word. He didn't need to speak-his silence said enough. Stay away.

Ki-tae kicked his legs up on an extra chair across from them, earbuds out now, twirling his straw like he was bored with royalty but too loyal to walk away.

"By the way," he said, gesturing with his cup. "That kid from earlier? He followed Iseul on Instagram last week."

Seungtae looked up, deadpan. "How do you even know that?"

"I watch the followers list like Netflix," Ki-tae shrugged. "It's better than TV."

Kyung-jun laughed. "That's sick."

"It's resourceful," Ki-tae replied. "Unlike you two doing the whole caveman act in the hallway."

Iseul didn't look up from her phone. "He was annoying."

Kyung-jun leaned closer. "So you did notice him?"

"Only because you made a scene," she said smoothly, crossing her legs.

Seungtae muttered, "You should've let me knock his phone out of his hand."

"And ruin the school's favorite lunch drama?" Kyung-jun smirked. "Please. They live for us."

"Or die for you," Ki-tae added, half-mocking, half-right.

The cafeteria kept glancing. Some bold enough to sneak photos. Most pretending not to look.

Iseul looked up then-just once-and the entire table near hers stopped talking mid-sentence.

That was all it took.

One glance.

One shift of her eyes, and people shut up.

Kyung-jun whistled low. "Damn. Even I got chills."

Seungtae stared at his tray. "She's always been like that."

Ki-tae stretched. "And she always will be. So stop fighting over something that doesn't need claiming."

Kyung-jun raised a brow. "You saying she's not worth fighting over?"

Ki-tae smirked. "No. I'm saying she doesn't need you to fight. She's already winning."

Iseul finally looked between them-Kyung-jun, all heat and teasing smirks. Seungtae, silent and solid, still watching everyone. And Ki-tae, detached, amused, but never unaware.

She smiled faintly. Just enough to tilt the scales.

"Boys," she said. "Don't bleed at the table. It's unsanitary."

⸻

The table was a throne, and Iseul sat at the center of it.

But in this kingdom, Ki-tae wasn't a knight or a rival king.

He was the tactician.

The watcher.

The one who never moved when pushed-but knew everyone else's weak spots like he wrote them.

"You didn't eat," Ki-tae said suddenly, flicking a rice ball off her untouched tray with his chopstick.

Iseul glanced at him. "Not hungry."

"You never are when you're tense."

She gave him a look. "I'm not tense."

"Sure," he said, leaning back lazily, "and Kyung-jun's not in love with the sound of his own voice."

Kyung-jun scoffed. "You're still talking, bro."

Seungtae shot Ki-tae a side glance. "What's it to you, anyway?"

Ki-tae ignored them both. His attention was on Iseul. Sharper now. Not teasing.

"You slept last night?" he asked, voice lower.

She looked at him, and for a split second, the mask cracked. Just slightly.

"No."

Kyung-jun's smirk slipped.

Seungtae sat up straighter.

Ki-tae didn't react-he just nodded once and dropped a wrapped energy bar in front of her tray like it was nothing.

"Eat it now," he said. "Or I'm texting your aunt you've been skipping meals again."

Iseul rolled her eyes but took it, ripping the wrapper open like she'd already lost the argument.

Kyung-jun leaned in. "Since when do you get to parent her?"

"I don't parent," Ki-tae replied. "I just make sure she doesn't burn out before she can burn the rest of the world down."

"Touching," Seungtae said dryly.

Ki-tae gave them both that lazy smile again. "You two fight over her like she's a prize. I know better. She's the one holding the leash."

That shut them up.

Iseul looked at Ki-tae again, and this time, her smile wasn't for show.

"Thanks," she said softly, just for him.

He shrugged. "Don't get soft on me. You're still scary."

"Good."

⸻

The bell rang again. Students scrambled. Royals didn't.

They moved when they felt like it.

As the others started to stand, Ki-tae grabbed his drink and muttered to Iseul:

"Text me if you want to dip early. I'll send the back route."

Iseul nodded once. Understood.

Kyung-jun and Seungtae were already glaring at each other in that quiet, stupid way guys did when they were fighting wars no one else could see.

And Ki-tae?

He just walked away, sipping his coffee and shaking his head.

"Idiots," he muttered. "All three of us."