Just then, one of Marco's lackeys finally snapped. He stepped forward with a scowl and barked, "You sure talk a lot. Why don't you show your face instead? I bet you're just scared of Marco recognizing you. How about we settle this with fists outside, huh?"
Shin calmly glanced at the guy's knees, then shifted his gaze to Marco. "Fighting is out of the question."
He hadn't even used full strength when he shoved Marco earlier. If he had meant to hurt him, Marco wouldn't just be covered in dust, he'd be bleeding.
Marco's fists clenched. He could tell this man was belittling him. As if he wasn't even worth the effort.
Before Marco could say anything, his two friends, already on edge, lunged forward to grab Shin's collar with the intention of dragging him outside.
But Shin didn't flinch. With Yeri standing just behind him, he had no intention of dodging and risking her safety.
He swiftly delivered two low, precise kicks to their knees, forcing them to kneel to the ground.
Yeri: "…"
Everyone else: "..."
It was over in seconds?
Yeri raised a hand to her face and awkwardly scratched the bridge of her nose, trying not to laugh.
The secondhand embarrassment was real.
After witnessing Shin Keir casually take down armed assassins not long ago, watching him swat aside two university boys with the strength of damp breadsticks was kind of pitiful.
Honestly, swatting flies might've been more exciting for him.
"Gosh, is he a martial arts master? So cool!" one of the onlookers blurted.
"Yeah, I want a boyfriend like him too!"
"You think he's someone famous? Even if I can't see his face, I know he's good-looking."
"Definitely. To date Yeri, he must be super handsome."
"He must be from the music and arts department."
"No way, with moves like that? He has to be from combat sports or criminology."
As the excited murmurs rippled through the crowd, many already forgot they had gathered here because of a public confession. The romantic drama had morphed into a live action film.
Yeri tugged discreetly on Shin's shirt, silently urging him to leave. If they stuck around and the situation escalated, it might attract school security. Worse, what if the school admin got involved? The last thing she wanted was for Shin Keir's identity to be exposed.
Shin seemed to read her thoughts without her saying a word. Without hesitation, he took her hand and gently pulled her along as they began walking away.
Behind them, Marco's two friends looked like they'd experienced embarrassment for the first time in their lives. Their faces burned red as they tried to rise, only for their knees to buckle and send them back down to the ground like stunned flamingos.
Marco, red-faced and still desperate to save his ego, shouted after them. "Yeri, there was no need for all this if you'd just told me from the start that you had a boyfriend!" he cried, unleashing his thoughts. "Not only did you drag Tiffany into this, but your boyfriend's also a complete jerk, so arrogant and violent!"
Marco's glare deepened. Being humiliated in front of a crowd was already bad enough. But for someone like him, a pampered young master with a god complex, it was a full-blown tragedy.
"I never said I was nice," Shin replied flatly.
Yeri turned to stop Shin from responding further. She wanted to settle this herself. It was her mess, after all.
"Senior Marco, I'm not obligated to explain anything to you," she said calmly. "And even if I didn't have a boyfriend, I still wouldn't date you."
"You—!" Marco stepped forward, hands twitching as if ready to grab her again, but the second he caught the man's expression beside her, as if he was already looking at a dead man, his outstretched hand trembled before retreating like a coward's sword in defeat.
Words failed him.
Yeri rolled her eyes and casually linked her arm around Shin's, nudging him forward.
If any, Marco and Tiffany were a match made in hell. Not only did each have two loyal lackeys trailing behind them like obedient dogs, but their personalities were perfectly aligned like a needle and thread.
One was sharp and manipulative, while the other was a lovestruck fool willing to be hook and tangled.
Just then—
"What is going on here?!"
A screech like a fork scratching a plate ripped through the dorm hallway.
Yeri froze mid-step. But she wasn't the only one.
All the girls from the dormitory went rigid on the spot. That voice.
The voice of Principal Red—the dorm supervisor known for her iron rule and banshee-level morning calls.
A second later, the crowd scattered like pigeons caught in a thunderstorm.
"Oh no! It's Principal Red!"
"Run for your lives!"
"Hurry, before she starts checking ID cards!"
From down the hallway, a woman in red pajamas emerged like a furious storm cloud, part of her hair still curled up in a forgotten roller. Judging by her groggy face and mismatched slippers, she'd been woken from a very precious nap.
"You brats!" she barked. "Why are you all loitering outside at this hour?! If you have this much free time, then go write an essay! Or solve calculus! Or clean your filthy dorms!"
Yeri didn't wait another second. She immediately grabbed Shin by the wrist and bolted.
When Principal Red finally reached the dormitory gates, all that was left of the incident were two boys still kneeling on the ground.
Even Marco had long since bolted, abandoning them without a backward glance.
Principal Red looked down at the two confused, crumpled figures. "???"
"W-we're just resting…" one of them offered weakly.
"Resting? Resting?! In front of a GIRLS' DORMITORY?!" she bellowed. One hand went to her waist, the other pointed dramatically like a death sentence.
"You maggots! Brazenly camping out here like this is a hotel! What exactly are you trying to accomplish, huh? Romance under moonlight? Go write an essay about responsibility! Which class are you from?! I'm giving both of you a demerit for hooliganism!"
Marco's friends: "…"
---
Shin and Yeri walked briskly toward the back gate. It was already past curfew, but as long as she registered her name at the security office and stated her reason for leaving, she was allowed to step out for a short while.
However, just as they neared the gate, something odd happened.
The security guard, who usually questioned her thoroughly like an immigration officer at the border, simply gave a respectful nod to Shin Keir and let them pass without a word.
No ID check. No questions. Not even a suspicious squint.
Yeri blinked, confused. She glanced at Shin, curiosity written all over her face, but he remained silent, cool and unreadable as always.
Weird, she thought. Did he bond with the security guard that quickly or does he have connections here too?
Once inside his sleek black car, she buckled up and was about to ask what was so urgent that he needed to drag her out so late but she never got the chance.
Without a word, Shin grabbed a packet of wet tissues, pulled one out, and began furiously wiping the back of her hand, the very one Marco had touched.
Yeri stared at him, stunned, her mouth slightly open.
He wiped once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then he switched tissues.
And again. And again.
He dabbed, scrubbed, and gently but intensely cleaned every millimeter of skin like a surgeon sterilizing before a heart transplant.
Yeri blinked. "Uhm...I think it's clean enough."
He didn't answer. His brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line, as if her hand were a priceless artifact defiled by pigeon poop.
Yeri frowned. Okay, this is getting weird.
By the time he reached tissue number five, her skin was turning an angry shade of red.
"Young Master Keir," she said more firmly. "Are you trying to wipe off my entire epidermis? Am I a dirty countertop to you?"
That finally snapped him out of his trance.
He looked up, startled, and quickly dropped the tissue, his expression shifting from focused intensity to guilt and something else. Jealousy.
"Does it hurt?" he muttered, voice low and almost boyish. "I just... I couldn't stand seeing him touch you."
Yeri raised an eyebrow, still nursing her poor, scrubbed hand.
Then he asked quietly, "Do you… often get approached like that?"
The question caught her off guard. She blinked. "What, confessions?"
He nodded, eyes dark with something unreadable.
She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms, thinking. "Well, I do get letters. And sometimes small gifts. But I usually return them or decline politely."
Shin's expression was already darkening by the second.
"But that guy was the first one who confessed to me this late at night," she added.
His jaw tightened. His hands clenched on the steering wheel, even though they weren't driving.
"Love letters," Shin repeated dully. "So, not a rare occurrence. How do you usually deal with them?"
Yeri shrugged. "I think it's rude to just ignore them. So I usually bring them back to my dorm, read them, and write a reply. But if someone gets too persistent… I just stop responding."
He didn't respond right away. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, staring ahead, lost in thought.
His expression was grim, like he was imagining setting fire to a large box labeled "Trash letters."
Homewreckers deserve to burn.
"By the way… how did you even get there earlier? And how long were you watching?"
Shin didn't hesitate. "You called me."
Yeri blinked. "Huh?"
"You called me," he repeated. "I heard everything from the beginning."
Her eyes widened. She quickly pulled out her phone and checked her call log and there it was. A dialed call to Shin Keir just around the time that group of girls dragged her outside, saying someone was looking for her.
She slapped her forehead. Ugh. She must have accidentally pressed it while fumbling with her phone.