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[+..••] 𝖁ᥱᥣ᥎ᥱ𝗍 𝕮һᥲіᥒs

The night wore on with the lazy rhythm of youth unchecked.

The karaoke machine had been forgotten somewhere after Ki-tae started analyzing the psychological tactics behind Kyung-jun's song choices ("They're all either about being abandoned or being obsessed. Are you okay?").

Empty bottles clinked in a lazy little pile on the corner table, the neon lights from the street outside bleeding in through the window like the distant glow of another life.

Iseul was lounging now-legs stretched across the couch, head tipped back, eyes half-lidded as she listened to the boys talk nonsense. Her laugh had slipped out twice-three times if Kyung-jun's running tally was accurate. And it was.

He sat next to her again, a bit closer this time, shoulder brushing hers like it was an accident that kept happening on purpose.

"So," he murmured, voice husky with warmth and a little bit of alcohol, "is this the part where you confess you'd miss me if I stopped showing up?"

Iseul side-eyed him. "If you stopped showing up, the room would get quieter. More breathable."

Kyung-jun grinned. "But you'd be bored."

"Maybe."

"Definitely."

Her lips curved. "You're so full of yourself."

"You're the one drinking me in."

Across the room, Seungtae made a choking sound.

"Can we not flirt within a five-meter radius of me?" he groaned, slouched in a chair, arms crossed.

"You can leave," Kyung-jun offered brightly.

"Or I can throw you out the window."

Ki-tae, perched near the window with his ever-glowing phone, didn't even look up. "You throw him, you pay the damages."

"Fine," Seungtae muttered, "I'll just suffer."

Iseul turned her head lazily toward him. "You always do."

That shut him up for a beat. But only a beat.

Then he stood up and walked over, stealing Kyung-jun's drink without asking and downing the rest of it.

Kyung-jun blinked. "Hey."

Seungtae leaned on the back of the couch now, looming over Iseul's side.

"She shouldn't sit too close to you," he muttered. "You talk too much. And none of it's useful."

Iseul tilted her head to look up at him. "Jealousy isn't your color."

Seungtae looked down at her, and for a flicker of a second, the tension changed-deepened. Something unsaid swimming under the surface.

"I'm not jealous," he said quietly. "I just don't like seeing you distracted."

Iseul stared back.

It wasn't flirtation. It wasn't even warning.

It was something older. Something earned.

"Don't worry," she said finally, "I only let myself get distracted when I know I'm still ten steps ahead."

And across the room, Ki-tae smiled without looking up.Of course she was.

⸻

Eventually, they stumbled out into the neon haze of the street-buzzed and laughing, jackets slung over shoulders, the night air cold enough to wake their bones but not enough to chase away the warmth.

"Same time next century?" Kyung-jun teased, nudging Iseul with his shoulder.

She just smirked. "I'll check my schedule."

And behind them, Ki-tae typed something into his phone. A silent log. A new timestamp. Another breadcrumb in the quiet game they were all still playing.

But just for tonight-

They were allowed to pretend.

⸻

Seungtae's apartment was big.

Of course it was. Floor-to-ceiling windows, all cool gray marble and minimalist decor, like something straight out of a design magazine-but colder. The kind of cold that whispered generational wealth and trauma hidden behind perfect, sleek lines.

It was nearly 3 AM when they stumbled in.

Shoes scattered. Jackets tossed. Ki-tae took one look at the couch, muttered a "Not dying on this plebeian surface," and made a beeline for the guest room like he owned the place.

That left the other three.

Iseul stood in the middle of Seungtae's pristine living room, a loose black hoodie over her outfit now, hair a bit messy, eyes rimmed in leftover eyeliner. She looked unfairly good for someone who had drunk half a bottle of peach soju.

Seungtae tossed her a bottle of water. "Try not to throw up on anything custom."

"Try not to be boring," she shot back, catching it with one hand.

Kyung-jun was already sprawled across the L-shaped sofa, arms spread like he was offering himself to the gods of chaos.

"God, this couch is a dream," he mumbled into the cushions.

"You're drunk."

"I'm cozy."

Iseul dropped next to him, knees brushing his.

Seungtae narrowed his eyes. "That's my side of the couch."

"Claim it faster next time," she said sweetly, stretching like a cat.

Kyung-jun grinned, chin propped on his hand as he looked at her. "You know, you're dangerously pretty when you're not stabbing people with your words."

"I'll stab you just for fun," she replied, lips curling.

"Hot."

Seungtae sat down on the floor in front of them, back against the coffee table. His eyes were on the black TV screen, but his attention wasn't.

He could feel it-their knees still touching, the way she let herself lean just slightly toward Kyung-jun.

It pissed him off more than he'd admit.

"Is your place always this cold?" Iseul asked, shivering slightly.

"Want a blanket?" Kyung-jun offered immediately.

"I want something warm," she said, glancing between both boys-innocent, but not really.

Seungtae stiffened.

Kyung-jun raised a brow. "That was a line."

"Was it?"

"Do it again."

Seungtae muttered under his breath. "I should've left you both outside."

Iseul leaned over and draped her arm across Kyung-jun's shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her cheek rested against his briefly. "You're warm."

Kyung-jun looked smug enough to melt the ice in Seungtae's veins.

But then-She turned her head, eyes flicking down to where Seungtae sat on the floor, stiff and frowning.

"Don't pout," she said. "It's not like I forgot about you."

"I'm not pouting."

"Then come sit up here." Her voice dropped a little. "Unless you're scared."

"I don't get scared," Seungtae said flatly. But he stood anyway.

She didn't move.

Which meant when he sat down-right beside her-the couch became a battlefield of proximity. Iseul between both boys, casually sipping from her water bottle like she wasn't fully aware of the heat radiating from either side.

Kyung-jun leaned closer. "So what's your game tonight, Queen?"

Iseul gave him a slow, unreadable smile. "I'm just... enjoying the view."

Seungtae tensed again. "Pick one."

"No," she said, voice light, wicked. "I think I like the attention."

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. But the tension swelled thick enough to taste.

Eventually, Iseul curled her legs up, laying her head on the couch's armrest, eyes half-lidded.

"Goodnight, boys," she murmured.

And she didn't say which one she meant.

⸻

Iseul blinked awake to the low hum of light filtering through expensive curtains and the faint smell of cologne, alcohol, and disaster.

Her head throbbed like a war drum. Her mouth tasted like regret and cheap peach soju. Her hoodie was twisted awkwardly, and something heavy was draped over her stomach.

She glanced down.

An arm.

A very familiar arm.

Kyung-jun.

Fast asleep, half-curled against her side, mouth slightly open and snoring-disrespectfully close to her neck.

Okay. That was weird. But not unthinkable.

Then-She turned her head.

Seungtae.

Passed out on the other side, one arm flung carelessly across her thighs, hoodie bunched at his waist, face buried half in the couch cushion, half in her shoulder.

Iseul stared at the ceiling.

Then at both of them.

Then back at the ceiling.

"What the actual f*."

Neither boy stirred.

Iseul slowly-slowly-peeled their arms off her like she was diffusing two emotional bombs. She sat up, hair a mess, hoodie sliding off one shoulder, and just stared at the mess she'd woken up in.

Her voice was scratchy when she spoke again. "God, one of you probably drooled on me."

From the floor, Ki-tae strolled in holding a mug of coffee, looking way too awake. "I'm guessing it's the blonde one."

Kyung-jun groaned. "I'm not even blonde-"

"Oh, so you are awake," Iseul said flatly.

Kyung-jun peeled one eye open. "Morning, sunshine. Did we kiss?"

"No."

"Tragic."

Seungtae stirred next, sitting up with a yawn and zero shame. "Why is it so bright? Did someone leave the sun on?"

"Did both of you have to use me as a human pillow?" Iseul asked, combing fingers through her hair. "Are we five?"

"You didn't complain last night," Seungtae muttered, rubbing his eyes.

"You both smell like a frat house," she snapped.

"And you," Ki-tae said from behind his coffee, "sound like someone who's questioning her life choices."

"I always question my life choices," Iseul replied dryly. "Especially when they end in being the filling of a dumbass sandwich."

⸻

Seoul High - Later That Morning

Iseul walked into the school like nothing happened.

Hair brushed. Lip tint perfect. Uniform flawless. Expression blank.

She didn't say anything. She didn't have to.

But everyone noticed how Kyung-jun and Seungtae flanked her like usual-just a little closer than normal.

Seungtae kept his hand in his pocket, but the other rested lightly behind Iseul's back when they moved through crowds. Kyung-jun was smirking like he'd won the lottery. Even Ki-tae trailed behind, half-smirking like he was watching a slow-burning romcom he already knew the ending of.

In class, Kyung-jun tossed her a note.

"Woke up next to you. Can I put it on my resume?"She flicked it back at him with a glare.

Seungtae saw the exchange. Said nothing. Just pulled her seat a little closer to his desk during break like he was reclaiming territory.

⸻

Lunch Break - Rooftop

The three of them were silent for a while. Then-

Kyung-jun broke it.

"So. That was... not the worst night I've had."

"Definitely the weirdest," Iseul muttered.

Seungtae raised a brow. "You didn't hate it."

"I didn't say I did," she replied, calm as glass. "I said it was weird."

Kyung-jun leaned back on his elbows. "Are we going to talk about the fact that you were kind of flirting with both of us last night?"

"No," Iseul said.

"But you were."

"Maybe I was bored."

"You said you liked the attention," Seungtae said suddenly.

She looked at him.

"I do," she said softly. Then she looked away. "Doesn't mean I want it forever."

Kyung-jun's grin faltered just slightly. Seungtae's jaw ticked.

The tension hung again, thick and slow-like rainclouds gathering.

But Ki-tae's message pinged in their private group chat at that exact moment.

[13:42] Code Red. Location to be dropped tonight. Bring gloves. Underground's waking up.

And just like that-

Back to business.

Back to blood and shadows and secrets.

But Iseul? She looked at both of them-one still smirking, the other still simmering-and smiled faintly.

Let them wonder who she'd end up choosing.

Because tonight, she had another fight to win.