[+..••⁹]

[+..••] 𝖁ᥱᥣ᥎ᥱ𝗍 𝕮һᥲіᥒs

It had rained overnight, and the pavement outside Seoul High was still slick, reflecting the morning sun like broken glass. But inside, the school was loud as ever-students shoving through corridors, gossip flaring like wildfire, and undercurrents of tension vibrating beneath the surface.

Iseul walked the halls like nothing touched her. Same lazy elegance, same terrifying silence. But today, something was different.

She was thinking about Soo-ah.

⸻

It wasn't like her to remember names unless they mattered. But Soo-ah stuck. The quiet first-year who was supposed to disappear after that day in the hallway-when Iseul fixed her collar and gave her that unspoken warning.

But she didn't disappear.

She got stronger.

And she listened.

⸻

"Isn't that your little fan?" Kyung-jun's voice broke through the noise. He was walking backward beside Iseul, flashing his stupid grin, as usual. "The one you saved from royal hellfire?"

"I don't have fans," Iseul said dryly.

"She keeps looking at you like she wants to offer you her soul."

Seungtae appeared beside them, frowning. "Or maybe she just respects hierarchy. Crazy idea, I know."

"Respect is cute," Kyung-jun murmured, smirking at Iseul. "But fear? That's sexy."

Iseul rolled her eyes. "You're like a bad internet comment section."

⸻

They turned the corner, headed toward the third floor-and that's when they saw her again.

Soo-ah.

Different this time.

Head up. Uniform neat. A stack of books in one hand, and no visible bruises.

She stood by the lockers again, but not trembling. Not hiding.

She saw Iseul-and nodded.

Not a bow. Not fear. Just... acknowledgment.

Iseul paused for half a second, lips twitching in what might've been a flicker of pride.

Kyung-jun noticed. Of course he did. He leaned in with a teasing grin, whispering, "Is our Queen forming a court?"

"I don't need a court," Iseul said smoothly. "I built the throne alone."

⸻

Later, in class, Soo-ah passed by their row to turn in her assignment. Her eyes lingered on Iseul for a beat too long, then she whispered under her breath, just for her-

"I didn't win. But I didn't lose either."

And then she was gone, just like that.

Seungtae arched an eyebrow. "That girl's got teeth now."

Kyung-jun leaned in, his voice warm. "So do you."

Iseul didn't respond.But the corner of her mouth curved.

⸻

In Seoul High, kindness was ammunition, and survival came dressed in silence. But sometimes, just sometimes-a well-placed warning and a fixed collar could plant a seed.

And Iseul was starting to like watching it grow.

Even if she'd never admit it.

⸻

Seoul High - Lunchtime Shenanigans

The courtyard was buzzing.

Spring sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting golden light across the stone benches and neatly trimmed hedges. Most students were scattered in their usual clusters-gossiping, pretending to study, or filming videos they thought might go viral.

At the center of it all?

The Royals.

Iseul sat on the edge of a marble bench, her legs crossed, dark shades over her eyes despite being in the shade. She picked apart a strawberry with the tip of her fork like it had personally offended her.

Kyung-jun sprawled beside her with absolutely no respect for personal space-head tilted, cheek resting on his hand, just watching her.

And not subtly.

"I think that berry's scared of you," he said, eyes dancing with amusement.

Iseul didn't look at him. "Good. Maybe it'll learn some manners."

"You're so scary," he murmured, voice dropping, "it's kind of hot."

That made her finally glance at him over her glasses.

"Kind of?"

He grinned. "Terrifyingly hot. Is that better?"

Seungtae, who had been silently scrolling through his phone across from them, slammed it down suddenly.

"Do we have to flirt during lunch?" he muttered, voice low.

Kyung-jun didn't miss a beat. "Yes."

Seungtae's jaw ticked. "Can you at least pretend to have shame?"

Kyung-jun shrugged, still grinning like a wolf. "I could. But then I wouldn't be me."

Iseul chuckled softly, more amused than annoyed.

"Are you jealous, Tae?" she asked without looking at him.

Seungtae scoffed, arms crossed. "Of him? Please."

"Oh, so you just glare at people for fun now?" Kyung-jun teased.

Seungtae shot him a death glare. "I'll glare at whoever I want."

"Romantic," Kyung-jun whispered, leaning a bit closer to Iseul. "You really attract the emotionally constipated ones, huh?"

"Don't push it," Seungtae warned, clearly moments away from throwing hands.

Iseul leaned back and sipped her drink, sighing like she was surrounded by toddlers.

"I should've picked quieter bodyguards."

"You didn't pick us," Kyung-jun said.

"We just stuck," Seungtae added.

She raised a brow. "Like a disease."

Kyung-jun gave her a slow, smug smile. "A very pretty, charming disease."

And for once-Iseul smiled. Actually smiled.

Right then, a few girls watching from across the courtyard whispered among themselves, shocked by the sight of it. The Queen smiling? In public?

Seungtae noticed the way the sun lit her face, the softness in her expression, the way she leaned just slightly in Kyung-jun's direction.

He didn't say anything.

But he hated it.

⸻

The neon lights of Hongdae flickered like promises. Loud music pulsed from every corner of the street, laughter spilling out of packed cafes, bars, and convenience stores. Seoul was alive-louder, freer, and far from the pressure-cooked halls of Seoul High or the red-soaked underground.

Which is why, for one night, Baek Iseul didn't wear her crown.

She wore black denim and a leather crop, hair tousled from the spring wind, and eyes outlined dark-not like a queen, not like a fighter, but like an eighteen-year-old who remembered what it felt like to breathe.

They booked a private karaoke room upstairs at one of the lesser-known joints-no cameras, no reputations to uphold. Just flashing lights, bad acoustics, and cheap drinks.

Kyung-jun was already half-yelling the lyrics to a retro dance song, a mic in one hand, his other arm slung around Seungtae's shoulders-who looked like he was enduring war.

"Get off me," Seungtae hissed, trying to shake him off.

"C'monnn," Kyung-jun whined into the mic. "We're bonding!"

"You smell like mango soju and ego."

"Flavored confidence, thank you."

Iseul leaned back on the couch, watching the chaos unfold, her drink swirling slowly in her glass. Her lips twitched.

And then the door opened.

Ki-tae.

In ripped black jeans, a loose button-up, and no explanation.

Kyung-jun blinked, still holding the mic. "What in the seven levels of hell are you doing here?"

Ki-tae raised a brow, then walked in like he owned the place. "What? I can't show up to a social gathering once every two years?"

"You don't do social."

"I do surveillance," he replied, grabbing a drink from the table. "Same thing, less boring tonight."

Seungtae groaned. "Don't tell me you're here to make us sign something."

Ki-tae smirked. "I'm here because I knew you'd get emotional enough to sing, and I wouldn't miss that for anything."

Iseul laughed softly-just once, but enough to draw all three of their gazes.

"Is the ice queen thawing?" Kyung-jun teased, flopping onto the couch beside her.

"Don't get used to it," she replied, raising her glass.

But she didn't move away from him.

And he noticed.

⸻

Later, after two more rounds and three songs that nearly made Seungtae walk out (one of which was Kyung-jun's tone-deaf version of Love Scenario dedicated to Iseul), the room quieted a little. Lights dimmed. Voices dropped.

Iseul sat in the corner, half-drunk but fully alert, watching the boys joke and argue over the next song. Ki-tae was scrolling his phone like he didn't care-but he always listened.

Kyung-jun slid closer to her again, voice lower now.

"You know," he said, "you smile more these days."

She tilted her head. "I think it's the soju."

"Nah," he leaned closer, "it's me."

"Delusional."

"But hot."

Iseul didn't respond-but she didn't deny it either. She just looked at him, really looked at him, until Seungtae threw a chip at Kyung-jun's head.

"Get a room."

Kyung-jun caught the chip. Ate it. "Already did."

And for a moment, just a moment, the world outside didn't matter.

No parents. No bloodlines. No secrets.

Just four kids with too much power, too many lies, and the illusion of one night off.