"Yeri Zhi, I knew you're acting different lately, but I didn't think you'd dive headfirst into your 'rebellious phase!'" Nina hissed. "Do you not care about your face anymore?"
"I didn't bring him here!" Yeri whispered furiously. "He barged in on his own last night. Look again—do you really think I could drag someone like that in here by myself?"
Nina narrowed her eyes at her, clearly unconvinced, but turned her gaze to the man sleeping soundly in Yeri's bed.
Yeri dabbed a damp towel across Shin's forehead one last time. 'Just a bit longer', she silently pleaded.
Seeing Nina's brain visibly buffering, Yeri decided to drop the bomb. "It's CEO Shin Keir."
Nina's jaw dropped. She stood frozen for a beat, and as if someone's after her life— bolted toward the door.
Yeri pounced, clinging to her like a desperate octopus.
The two grappled. Nina, who'd learned karate since high school, had a clear advantage. Yeri, recently recovered from chronic illness, barely held on before they both collapsed onto the floor in a heap.
"You're insane!" Nina gasped, pointing a shaking finger at her nose. "I admire your guts for climbing into Shin Keir's bed, but leave me out of your suicidal adventure!"
Yeri sneered, flicking her hair. "Incredible. So the saying 'people lose their brains in a crisis' is true. Open your eyes! Who's climbing into whose bed here?!"
Nina squinted at her, still skeptical.
Yeri sighed and quickly gave a rundown of the night at Gaia bar—how she ran into Shin unexpectedly. She conveniently skipped over what happened afterward.
"Wait—so the guy you were with that night wasn't Brother Jj, but..." Nina's voice trailed off, too stunned to finish the sentence.
"Anyway," Yeri said, brushing off Nina's spiraling thoughts, "I already called someone. They'll be here soon to take him away."
"So you dragged me here to help you cover this up?" Nina scowled.
Yeri gave a sly grin. "You're quite quick-witted. I like that."
"I must have hit my head befriending you," Nina muttered. "Fine. But let's just not open the door and play dead!"
Yeri scoffed. "Play dead? Did you lose your brain somewhere between bed and here? Principal Red has a master key! Even if we pretend we're not in, she'll barge in like a SWAT team."
The two of them froze mid-breath as the gravity of what was said sank in.
Then—tap, tap, tap—footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Nina gasped. "Someone's coming."
Their eyes locked. No words were needed.
In a frenzied blur, they shoved the table and chairs against the door like they were fortifying against zombies.
From the other side, a calm voice. "Yeri, are you in there?"
The dragging stopped.
"...Brother Tristan?" Yeri whispered cautiously, creeping toward the peephole.
Sure enough, standing there was Tristan Felan, casually dressed in jeans and a black tennis cap.
Yeri slowly opened the door a crack, her voice still wary. "How did you get here without anyone seeing?"
She honestly expected him to parachute from the rooftop or climb the wall just like Shin Keir.
Tristan chuckled. "Relax. No one's around. The CCTV's handled. The school scheduled a fire drill for teachers and employees later today—I just had someone move it up."
Yeri blinked and turned to Nina, who shrugged, clearly just as clueless.
Most students barely paid attention about these drills or notices especially on a weekend.
Still, to change a school-wide schedule on a whim? That level of power was terrifying.
Yeri gestured inside. "He's asleep. I didn't give him any medicine—just tried to manage the fever with a towel."
Tristan handed her a sealed shirt and a mask. "Dress him in these. I don't enter girls' rooms. Personal rule."
Yeri raised an eyebrow as she opened the package. "An... electrician's uniform?"
"Disguise," Tristan said simply, pointing to his own shirt embroidered with the name of a utility company.
Yeri nodded. It was a smart move. But how is he going to carry Shin out without entering?
However time is of the essence and she's not that close to Tristan to argue with him.
If possible, she doesn't want to revisit Shin's torturous abs but, forget it!
Inside, Nina sat on the sofa pretending to look disinterested—but her eyes kept drifting back to Tristan.
She had to admit: in person, he was every bit the legend. That smile alone could make dead flowers bloom.
No wonder women line up to have their hearts broken, she thought. Is it weird to ask for a selfie with him? Probably. Right?
After a few minutes, Yeri returned, slightly flushed. "He's ready."
Tristan nodded and finally stepped inside.
Honestly, he just wanted to help ease the awkwardness between the two—it was perfectly normal during the early stages of dating. Besides, a little skinship was a great way to break the ice.
He also didn't want Shin overthinking things if he lingered too long in her room—especially after the whole gazebo incident.
When Shin had woken up, he'd asked for a long vacation. That should be enough.
With ease, he hoisted Shin onto his back.
At the door, he paused. "Yeri, want to come with us to the hospital?"
Yeri's reaction was immediate—she jumped back like a cat with its tail stepped on. "Absolutely not."
Tristan gave a knowing smile. "Alright. I'll tell him you took care of him before I came."
Nina and Yeri watched from a distance as Tristan carried Shin out. Downstairs, two sleek black cars waited in a secluded corner.
Once they were gone, Yeri slumped against the wall, breathing hard like she'd just dodged a bullet.
Nina, however, twirled in delight. "Gosh, why is he so good-looking?! It's not fair!"
Yeri shot her a look. "Didn't someone once say playboys should be crucified and turned into eunuchs?"
Nina shrugged, grinning. "Hey, I said I admire him. Doesn't mean I'd date him. Falling for someone like that is a tragedy waiting to happen."
Yeri nodded absentmindedly and reached for her closet—out of the corner of her eye, something shiny and black glinted on her desk.
It was that black credit card. The one Shin Keir gave her the day they met.
A devilish smile tugged at her lips.
"Yeri?" Nina called, eyeing her suspiciously. "There's something more between you and Shin Keir, right? Say, am I going to be a flower girl soon?"
Yeri nearly dropped the black card. "Don't be ridiculous. He's just temporarily infatuated with my face. Once he gets bored of looking at it, we're done."
Nina gave her a slow once-over. "You must be proud of that face. You really think he's starved for beautiful women? Honestly, I don't think it's just about your looks. Who climbs a girls' dormitory just to see someone?"
"A lunatic," Yeri deadpanned, waving the card like a flag. "Wanna go shopping? My treat—for helping me out."
Nina hesitated. "But I didn't really—"
"Doesn't matter." Yeri flashed a grin. "Think of it as a reward for being my unwilling accomplice."
"Oh my god!" Nina gasped, covering her mouth theatrically. "Don't tell me—that's his card? Did he seriously give you that? Look at the way he spoils you!"
Yeri shot her a warning glare.
"Okay, okay!" Nina raised her hands in surrender. "Someone's desperate to spend money on me. It'd be rude to say no."
As they headed out, Yeri felt a wicked satisfaction rising. I'm definitely venting every bit of stress and frustration through this card.
Neri Hospital – VIP Wing
The quiet hum of Shin's breathing filled the VIP suite, pristine and serene beneath the soft glow of ambient lighting.
Tristan stood near the window, arms crossed, watching as the city beyond stirred lazily into a new week. Behind him, Shin Keir lay unconscious, still feverish, but stable.
A knock tapped against the door.
Tristan turned as it opened, revealing a tall man in a white coat—elegant, with his eyes sharp and clinical behind thin-rimmed glasses.
"Zahn," Tristan greeted him with a nod.
Zahn Neri also replied with a nod, stepping inside, his stethoscope already in hand. "Fever, you said?"
"Yes. Overnight." Tristan explained, stepping aside.
"I haven't seen him fall ill before." He glanced at the chart briefly, "His vitals are slowly returning to normal. Nothing serious."
Elsewhere in the Hospital – ER Room Three
Sergei Ricci sat on the exam bed, an ice pack pressed against his bruised, bleeding forehead. His sharp features were usually pristine, refined—but today, his suit jacket was wrinkled, tie loosened, and his eyes blazed with simmering fury.
His left temple throbbed from the impact of the porcelain vase. The irony wasn't lost on him—of all the enemies he'd made, it was his own sister who had finally managed to land a direct hit.
And for what? Obsessive delusions over a man who doesn't even glance her way?
The door opened, and an attending doctor stepped in, exhaling with practiced patience.
"Let me see that," he said briskly.
Sergei lowered the ice pack without a word.
"You're lucky the shard didn't cut deeper," he muttered, inspecting the gash and applying antiseptic with efficient hands.
"Will it leave a scar?" Sergei winced.
The doctor stepped back, removing his gloves. "Stitches aren't needed. You'll bruise, but the wound should close cleanly."
Sergei stood, fixing his tie with a scowl. "Make sure no one logs my visit."
The doctor, used to patients like Sergei, nodded without comment.
As Sergei exited the ER, his mind turned back to Calin—her tear-streaked face twisted in fury, the shattered porcelain scattering across the floor, her voice shrieking that Shin must have someone else, someone hidden.
If not for his mother, he had long sent her to a mental hospital.