Bang Christopher Chan ⁴⁴

You're a typical student, not particularly inclined to loud parties. You prefer quiet evenings, books, and leisurely conversations. But today was different—your friends begged you to join them. You gave in. The party was taking place in one of the students' apartments. Loud music, dancing, laughter—everything blended into a single pulse, deafening and vibrant. You were standing with your friends against the wall, sipping juice. Laughter, conversation—everything was light and carefree. You briefly left your glass on the table, not paying it any mind. And you didn't notice how a few guys, exchanging glances, dropped something unnoticeable into their drinks. When you took another sip, a little time passed, and suddenly you felt a strange warmth, as if someone had lit a fire inside you. It became difficult to breathe. You decided to go outside—the cool air should help—but in the hallway, you unexpectedly ran into Chris... Your relationship with Chris had always been strange—you barely spoke, as if you lived in different worlds. You looked up at him, flushed and embarrassed. "Wow," he said in surprise, "Looks like you've had too much. Come on, I'll take you there and get some sleep." You nodded, even though you knew you hadn't drunk any alcohol. Chris led you into the bedroom and gently sat you down on the edge of the bed. He was about to leave when you suddenly grabbed his hand. "Wait... I don't feel well. I... I haven't been drinking. What's wrong with me?" He turned to you, peered into your face, and touched your forehead with his palm. "You're hot..." he muttered, frowning. "Did you leave the glass unattended?" You nodded silently. "Damn," he whispered through his teeth, "you were clearly drugged. Don't ever do that again." He was angry—not at you, but at the situation. Then he looked into your eyes. "I won't leave you alone. If you want, I'll help." With these words, he carefully lifted your face by the chin, waiting for an answer.