We stepped back into the hallway, hand in hand, and for once, she didn't pull away.
Her grip was firm. Steady. Not forced.
I didn't look at her right away—I didn't need to. I could feel it in the way she walked beside me. Something had clicked in her, shifted in that quiet, irreversible way that changes everything.
She was starting to see it.
Starting to understand what it meant to be chosen by me.
And still—still—there was that flicker of resistance in her. That lingering pride that made her fascinating. That told me I'd never fully own her unless she gave herself willingly.
And that was exactly what I wanted.
As we passed the other students, they noticed. Of course they noticed.Their gazes flicked from our hands to our faces, curious, calculating, and—most of all—afraid to say anything aloud.
Power wasn't loud at Seonghwa. It was quiet. Controlled. Smiling and cruel at once.
And today, it was walking through the corridor with its hand wrapped around Hyerin's.
"You know this is going to cause rumors," she said under her breath.
I finally glanced at her. Her face was composed, but her eyes betrayed something uncertain.
"Let them talk," I murmured. "They've been talking since the moment you walked through the front gates."
"I'm not used to this kind of attention."
I smiled. "You will be."
She sighed but didn't let go. That alone spoke more than anything she could have said.
Just before we reached the staircase, a second-year student stepped aside abruptly, bowing slightly, eyes downcast as we passed.
Hyerin glanced at me. "That happens a lot, doesn't it?"
"It does," I said simply. "People make room for power. Whether they agree with it or not."
"Is that what I am now?" she asked, tone dry. "Power?"
I stopped walking, turning to face her fully. The hallway was quiet for a moment, distant footsteps echoing behind us.
"You're becoming it," I said. "And there's nothing more dangerous than someone who earns it without needing a name behind them."
She looked at me, really looked. No defense in her expression this time. Just quiet thought.
"That sounds like something you fear."
I leaned in, just close enough to feel her breath.
"That sounds like something I want."
Her lips parted, startled—by the words or the closeness, I didn't care.
I pulled back a second later, satisfied.
We kept walking.
And though she didn't say a word, she didn't let go.
By the time we reached the top floor, where the student council offices were located, most of the crowd had thinned. The hallway was quieter here, tucked away from the main flow of students—reserved for those who mattered.
I pushed the door open to the Vice President's office. It had been empty for years. Everyone knew Gaeun had always intended to take it, and no one had dared to challenge her. Until now.
I stepped aside and gestured for Hyerin to enter first.
She hesitated, then walked in. Slowly.
The office wasn't grand, but it carried weight. Polished black desk. Two leather chairs. File drawers with locks that hadn't been opened in ages. A nameplate, still blank. Waiting.
She walked to the center of the room and turned in a slow circle, like she didn't believe it was real.
"This is mine now?" she asked.
I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "It's always been yours. They just didn't know it yet."
She shot me a dry look, but there was something behind it now—something softer, something accepting.
She approached the desk, brushing her fingers over its surface. Her shoulders rose and fell with a slow breath.
"This feels… too much."
I stepped toward her. One step. Then another. Until I was right beside her.
"It's not," I said quietly. "Not for someone like you."
She glanced at me. "You keep saying that like I'm supposed to believe it."
"You will."
Her eyes lingered on me a second too long. She turned her gaze back to the desk.
"What if I mess up?" she asked, barely above a whisper.
I leaned in, close enough for my voice to fall like a secret just between us.
"Then we clean up the mess together."
She froze.
I watched her, waiting to see if she'd retreat again. But she didn't.
She looked back at me, lips parted slightly, brows drawn like she didn't quite understand how I was always this sure.
And that's when I said it—calm, raw, unfiltered.
"I want you here, Hyerin. Not just because you're useful. Not just because you're talented. I want you because you're the only one who makes all of this worth playing for."
Her breath hitched.
And in that quiet office, where no one could hear us, she whispered:
"You're dangerous, Saehwa."
I smiled, slow and deliberate.
"And yet here you are."
She didn't argue.
And that was more intimate than any kiss.
The silence between us stretched long, thick with something heavier than tension—something neither of us dared to name yet.
Hyerin turned away first, her fingers tracing along the edge of the desk again. I let her have the moment. Let her breathe. She needed it.
After all, this was no small shift. She had been thrown into my orbit, into a position that others had fought tooth and nail for, and now she stood at the center of it… because I put her there.
But the difference was—she was beginning to choose to stay.
Her hand hovered over the drawer, and I watched her pull it open gently, revealing old files from past councils. Dust clung to them like a forgotten memory, and Hyerin stared at the contents for a moment before slowly closing it again.
"I don't want to be your shadow," she said finally, her voice low.
I tilted my head. "Good. I don't want a shadow."
She glanced at me, uncertain.
"I want someone who can walk beside me. Who can challenge me when I'm wrong. Who doesn't look at my name and shrink."
Her eyes lingered on me, dark and searching. "So why do you act like you already own me?"
I stepped forward until there was barely a breath of space between us.
"Because I do," I said, voice unapologetic. "Not in the way you think, not because I control you—but because when I look at you, I don't see a girl trying to survive this place. I see someone who was meant to burn just as brightly as me."
She blinked, stunned by the intimacy, by the directness, by the desire I wasn't bothering to hide anymore.
I didn't touch her. Not yet.
But I leaned close enough for her to feel it—my breath, my warmth, the calm, dangerous pull that I had wrapped around her since day one.
"You're not my shadow," I whispered. "You're the reason the light feels worth it."
Her breath caught.
And for a moment, I thought she'd run again.
But instead—she stepped forward.
Her hand brushed lightly against my arm, just once. But it was enough. A signal. A thread pulled taut between us.
Her voice was soft, barely audible. "I hate how good you are with words."
I smiled, low and dangerous. "I'm good with more than just words, Hyerin."
Her cheeks flushed, and I watched the subtle panic in her eyes as she realized what she'd let me see—what she'd allowed herself to feel.
She turned away quickly, walking toward the window to hide it.
"Go back to class, Saehwa," she said. "You've stirred up enough chaos for one day."
I chuckled, already walking backward toward the door, refusing to break eye contact.
"You say that like I ever stop," I murmured.
She didn't respond.
But she stood in the sunlight, fingers brushing over her lips, the ghost of something unspoken trembling in her posture.
I closed the door behind me with a quiet click.
And smiled.
She was already mine.Now, I just had to make her admit it.