Yuki Haruto only realized it at this moment, as if waking from a long dream.
A bone-deep chill washed over him, and he finally understood with painful clarity that everything before this—those sweet words—had all been a carefully woven, false mask his girlfriend had used to trap him.
But now, it was already far too late.
No matter how hard he tried, he could never have imagined that the girlfriend he believed he was deeply in love with would, at this very moment, so decisively push him into the arms of another, completely unfamiliar woman.
And in such a cheap, humiliating way.
The force with which she shoved his shoulder held no hesitation at all. From her fingertips came only cold resolve.
In an instant, all the color drained from Yuki Haruto’s face, leaving a frightening pallor that almost blended into the light-colored shirt he was wearing.
His once clear, bright eyes were now filled with overwhelming shock, disbelief, and profound confusion.
His pupils widened slightly, reflecting the laughing faces of the delinquent girls in front of him, as well as his girlfriend’s indifferent profile.
His lips trembled and parted uncontrollably. He wanted to question her, to beg, or maybe just to confirm whether this was all some terrible dream.
But it was as if an invisible hand had tightly gripped his throat. Other than broken breaths escaping, he could not make a single meaningful sound.
In that moment, something pure and beautiful he had always protected so carefully in his heart shattered completely with her merciless shove and the undisguised gazes around him. It did not break into pieces; it turned straight into dust, ground under the cold, rough sole of reality, leaving nothing behind to mourn.
What replaced it was a wave of icy despair and the sharp pain of naked betrayal that swept through his entire body.
“Wuh…”
The overwhelming sense of grievance, fear of the unknown, and heartbreak from the collapse of his beliefs finally broke through the last fragile dam of composure Yuki Haruto had been desperately maintaining.
A stifled sob spilled from deep in his trembling throat, like the whimper of a wounded small animal.
Clear tears quickly filled his eyes, broke free from his lashes, and fell in large drops down his pale, smooth cheeks.
“Why are you crying?!”
Seeing this, his girlfriend immediately looked embarrassed.
In her eyes, he was making her lose face in front of the Leader and the other girls.
She frowned sharply. Her previously passable features now looked thin and harsh with irritation and anger.
She reached out—not to comfort him, but to viciously twist the bare skin of his arm. Her nails nearly dug into his flesh, leaving clear red marks.
Lowering her voice, she leaned close to his ear and threatened him viciously in a volume only the two of them could hear. Her breath brushed his ear, bringing only coldness.
“Hold those tears back! Useless trash! If you dare to look like this and ruin the Leader’s mood, just wait and see how I deal with you later!”
The pain in his arm and the threat in his ear made Yuki Haruto shudder. His sobbing stopped abruptly, leaving only his uncontrollable trembling and tears that surged even harder but were forced back.
The darkness of despair surged like a tide, almost swallowing him whole.
And at that suffocating moment, the tall woman who had been sitting on the living room sofa, the one everyone called the Leader, finally spoke.
“Enough.”
Her voice was not loud, even somewhat low, but it was like a blade suddenly drawn from its sheath—sharp, penetrating, and carrying unquestionable authority.
It instantly cut through all the noise, laughter, and whispers in the room.
All sound fell into an eerie silence. Even breathing seemed to soften.
She raised her eyes sharply. Those distinctive gray eyes flashed coldly in the dim light, like a hawk sweeping over a wasteland—sharp, icy, and impatient.
Her gaze slowly swept the room before briefly settling on the disheveled, sobbing Yuki Haruto and his awkward-looking girlfriend.
Yuki Haruto felt that cold gaze pass over him like something tangible. His body tensed involuntarily, and he even forgot to cry.
Then he saw the woman wave her hand impatiently, the motion carrying an unquestionable finality.
Her voice remained flat, every word clear.
“Let him go.”
Then her gaze shifted to the other delinquent girls in the room, especially Yuki Haruto’s former girlfriend.
The warning in her gray eyes was heavy and unmistakable, her voice cold with irritation.
“What you do with men in private is none of my business, and I am not interested.”
She paused, each word falling like ice beads hitting the floor.
“But keep your methods clean. No forcing, and no dirty tricks that cross the line. If you bring the police or any other trouble here and mess up my place, break the Family Rule… you can weigh the consequences yourselves.”
Yuki Haruto, who had already believed himself doomed, his heart sunk into a frozen abyss of despair, could hardly believe his ears when he heard the tall woman order that he be released.
He lifted his head sharply, tears blurring his vision as he looked toward the figure on the sofa.
After the massive shock came a wave of near-collapsing relief, like a sudden warm current washing over his cold, stiff, almost numb limbs.
His heart pounded wildly in his chest, not from fear, but from this unexpected ‘pardon’.
He opened his mouth but could not say a word, only staring at her blankly.
At this moment, having survived the ordeal, when he looked again at the fit woman sitting casually on the sofa yet radiating invisible pressure, his feelings shifted in a subtle way he himself did not notice.
Against the backdrop of extreme fear, chaos, and the cruel betrayal he had just suffered from the person closest to him, that ‘coldness’ and ‘sense of boundaries’—so different from any gang members or delinquents he had seen before—stirred an indescribably complex emotion within him.
It could not be helped. Boys of this age were often this simple and sensitive, carrying a kind of clear foolishness born of inexperience.
They were at a stage where they craved drama and romantic fantasies beyond the ordinary.
Their inner worlds were vivid, and they were easily drawn to people with a dangerous aura, domineering strength, or the halo of a savior, even if those people lived in gray or dark places.
This kind of attraction often ignored the complexity and risk beneath it, focusing only on the beautified fragments in their imagination.
At this moment, in Yuki Haruto’s simplified perspective, the logic of the story was quickly and subjectively rewritten.
It was this woman before him—the seemingly cold, hard-to-approach Leader of a gang—who had ‘stepped forward’ at his most helpless and desperate moment, using a forceful and unique method to ‘rescue’ him from being sold out by his girlfriend and from a terrifying situation of possible humiliation.
She became a sudden beam of light in his chaotic world, a different kind of ‘hero’, even if that hero’s identity was so unusual.
Objectively speaking, the Leader who had ‘rescued’ him also had a striking appearance.
Her tall, fit body radiated strength.
Her wheat-colored skin, sharply defined features with a wild beauty, and especially those distinctive gray eyes were completely different from the gentle or lively girls he encountered at school.
This aggressive, distant beauty, combined with the savior’s halo, left an indelible impression on his fragile, confused heart.
Later, just as that woman had said, Yuki Haruto returned home safely and intact.
No one troubled or entangled him further.
That night, he tossed and turned on the bed in his bedroom, unable to fall asleep for a long time.
The lingering fear came in waves, making him start awake again and again, his heart pounding.
But even more often occupying his mind was that tall figure, appearing clearly the moment he closed his eyes, every detail replayed again and again in the darkness.
A strange feeling lingered in his heart. He could not tell whether it was gratitude, curiosity, or something else entirely.
Over the next few days, his former girlfriend came to see him, trying to win him back with tears, repentance, and fresh sweet talk.
She claimed she had been forced and begged for his forgiveness.
But this time, Yuki Haruto would not be fooled again.
Looking at the face that had once made his heart race, he felt only unfamiliarity and falsehood.
When she tried to grab his sleeve, he wrenched free, gathered all his strength, and slapped her across the face with a sharp crack.
As she stared at him in shock, he turned away and left without looking back.
He had thought she might become furious and come after him with her group, but strangely, nothing happened afterward.
He guessed it was probably because of the Leader’s clear warning that day.
This made his complicated feelings toward that woman deepen subtly.
Two weeks were enough for Yuki Haruto to gradually recover from the immediate shock and fear of that day.
However, the tall figure who had saved him seemed to take root in his heart.
Not only did she not fade with time, she became clearer and harder to forget against the calm of everyday life.
He would think of her while zoning out in class. His heart would skip a beat when he saw a motorcycle speeding down the street.
He would even vaguely recreate that dim room in his dreams at night, though the ending became blurred and ambiguous.
During those two weeks, he inexplicably dug out and reread the kind of manga he used to read, stories about ‘the gang leader falling in love with me’ or ‘a delinquent girl and an innocent boy’.
The more he immersed himself, the more he felt…
Was his own experience not astonishingly similar to the beginning of those stories?
And was he not the male lead who, after being ‘saved’, embarked on a forbidden romance?
Yuki Haruto felt he could not just miss destiny’s arrangement, miss this possibly one-of-a-kind ‘love’.
In the end, a mix of youthful impulsiveness and romantic fantasy drove him to a decision.
He would go back to that villa and find the woman who had saved him.
Though deep down he still felt instinctive fear toward that place and those delinquent girls, he believed that tall woman would not allow anyone to hurt him, just like last time.
She was different.
So, as if preparing for a solemn date, Yuki Haruto carefully chose the best-looking outfit he had.
He even secretly used some of his older brother’s skincare products to make his complexion look fresher.
With a nervous yet expectant heart, he once again arrived at the door of the villa on the edge of the district.
He took several deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart, then raised his slightly trembling hand and knocked on the door.
After waiting for a while, there was no response, only faint, noisy music and indistinct shouting from inside.
He hesitated, then knocked harder a few more times, faster this time.
“Who is it?! So loud… huh… little beauty? Who are you looking for?”
The door was finally pulled open a crack.
A wave of hot, stale air mixed with cigarette smoke, alcohol, sweat, and a cloying scent rushed out, making Yuki Haruto frown and step back half a step.
The one who opened the door was a delinquent girl with exaggerated short purple hair, wearing a tank top and ripped blue jeans.
Her eyes were unfocused, her cheeks flushed unnaturally. She leaned against the doorframe, swaying slightly, clearly in an excited state.
Her initial impatience turned into undisguised amazement and greed when she realized that the person outside was a well-dressed, innocent-looking boy.
Her already bloated, unattractive face twisted further as she grinned lewdly, making him uncomfortable.
Almost impatiently, she reached out and wrapped an arm around Yuki Haruto’s narrow shoulders with great force, leaving no room for refusal.
The strong smell of alcohol and body odor made his stomach churn.
She leaned in close, almost pressing against him, breathing heavily as she examined his face.
Suddenly, as if remembering something, she slurred in surprise.
“Huh… you, you are… you are the guy Hui brought before… that sucker? Oh, so you are here to find Hui? But…”
She dragged out her tone, her other hand moving improperly along his back.
“She is… probably busy right now, hehe… no time to deal with you for a while…”
Before Yuki Haruto, dizzy from the smell and shocked by the sudden contact, could break free, the purple-haired delinquent girl roughly pushed and pulled him inside the villa.
“Ah!”
Deafening electronic music swallowed him instantly, mixed with shrill laughter and indistinct shouting.
What he saw next made him freeze in place, his pupils shrinking.
The living room was dim, neon lights casting spinning patterns.
The air was thick and stifling.
People were sprawled across the floor, the sofa, even the tables, tangled together in chaotic revelry.
The overwhelming atmosphere and chaotic scene struck Yuki Haruto’s unprepared senses like a heavy blow.
“Ugh…”
The shock and nausea made his stomach churn violently. He clamped a hand over his mouth, his face turning paper white as cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He barely managed not to vomit.
Fear, disgust, and shock gripped him, leaving him breathless and weak.
“Hey! Hui! Stop messing around and see who is here! Your little cash cow came to find you!”
The purple-haired delinquent girl shouted over the music, her tone mocking.
On the sofa, a woman moved lazily and turned her head.
Messy hair, unfocused eyes, flushed face—it was Hui, his so-called former girlfriend.
“Haruto…?”
It took her a moment to recognize him. Surprise flashed through her eyes before being replaced by indifference.
She did not care about her state or the smell of alcohol. She pushed the man away and staggered to her feet, walking toward Yuki Haruto.
The closer she got, the more suffocating the smell became.
Ignoring his pale face and resistant gaze, she wrapped her sticky arms around his stiff body.
Her warm, damp skin pressed against him through his shirt, sending a chill through him.
Lowering her head, she breathed alcohol-tainted air onto his face and puckered her lips, trying to kiss him.
“No! Get away! Let go of me!”
Yuki Haruto forced out strength through terror and disgust, struggling with all he had, his voice sharp and broken.
He twisted his head away from the repulsive kiss, pushing at her slippery body.
“I did not come to find you! I came to find… I came to find your Leader!”
He screamed the last words, as if they were the only lifeline he could grasp.