Sea shouldn't have been there.
The auditorium was supposed to be empty—everyone gone for club hour—but he'd forgotten his ID card on the front row bench and came back alone.
But the door wasn't locked.
And he wasn't alone.
He heard it before he saw it—
The slow, quiet thud of leather shoes on marble.
The echo of presence.
The weight of attention that always made his skin crawl… and burn.
Boss stepped out from behind the curtain. All black again. All unreadable.
Sea froze. "I was just leaving—"
"You came back," Boss said softly.
His voice… was nothing like Sea expected. It wasn't cold. It wasn't sharp.
It was… low.
Slow.
Dangerous.
Like someone who already had you exactly where he wanted.
"I… forgot my ID," Sea managed.
Boss didn't blink.
He stepped closer. One… two…
Sea stepped back.
"You're scared," Boss murmured.
Sea shook his head.
But his body betrayed him.
Boss tilted his head. "Liar."
Before Sea could speak, Boss was right in front of him. Not touching. But too close.
Sea's breath hitched.
"I don't hurt pretty things," Boss whispered.
A hand—slow, gloved—reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from Sea's forehead. The touch was barely there. Barely enough to count.
But Sea's knees still went weak.
"I see you everywhere," Boss murmured. "In the halls. In my dreams."
Sea's heart raced.
"And soon…" Boss leaned closer, lips nearly brushing Sea's cheek.
"You'll start seeing me too. Even when I'm not there."
And then… just like a shadow—he was gone.
Leaving Sea breathless. Shaking. And aching in ways he didn't understand.
Sea tried to forget that moment in the library.
He tried to act like it was a dream. A nightmare. A hallucination from lack of sleep or stress.
But the problem with pretending… is that it only works if the person you're avoiding doesn't start following you around.
Boss didn't speak to him again.
He didn't need to.
He was always there.
In the cafeteria, seated far above on the VIP level—watching.
In the corridors, walking past with Nick, surrounded by silence, students parting like waves.
In the lecture hall, entering late, his presence cutting through the air like ice.
Sea felt it.
Every. Single. Time.
Worse, people noticed.
"You've caught the wrong attention," Van said one afternoon, his voice serious for once. "Don't look at him. Don't talk about him. Pretend he doesn't exist."
"But why?" Sea whispered.
Van hesitated.
"Because Boss doesn't like people. He obsesses. He destroys. And once he wants something, he gets it... whether it wants him back or not."
Sea laughed nervously.
"You make him sound like a monster."
Van didn't smile.
"He's worse."
And then Sea saw it with his own eyes.
Another student—loud, arrogant, a second-year rich kid—bumped into Boss accidentally.
By the next day, that student's locker was trashed. His files erased. His name removed from the debate team. No one said Boss did it.
No one had to.
Boss didn't need proof. He was the proof. The consequence. The storm.
And as Sea sat alone one evening, flipping through his scholarship orientation packet, he saw it again:
"This scholarship is generously funded by the Park Foundation."
Park.
Boss's family.
Sea's heart dropped.
He realized the truth far too late.
He wasn't free here.
He was owned.
---
To be continued