Minho

The Glade was filled with its usual bustle: the boys were harvesting crops, repairing huts, and discussing plans for the future. But amidst all this activity, Minho couldn't shake a constant feeling of anxiety. Every time he looked at Mia, his heart skipped a beat. She was strong and independent, but to him, she was something more—his light in this dark world.

Minho tried not to show his feelings. He knew he had to remain cold-blooded and rational, as always. But every time one of the boys approached her, his inner world crumbled. This was especially true regarding Gally. That guy always knew how to get under Minho's skin, simply by teasing him with his friendly behavior toward Mia.

In the evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Minho noticed Gally approaching Mia. He placed his hands on her shoulders and said something that made her smile. In that moment, a flame of jealousy ignited inside Minho. He couldn't stand someone else touching her the way he wanted to. Clenching his fists, he watched them from a distance until his anger reached its breaking point.

When the evening silence enveloped the Glade, Mia decided to look for Gally to discuss something important. But instead of him, Minho approached her, out of breath and with disheveled hair. His hands were covered in blood—not his own, but someone else's.

"Minho?" she asked anxiously, seeing his state. "What happened?"

"Nothing," the boy replied gruffly. "It's late, go to sleep."

"What's going on?!" the girl asked worriedly. "Whose... blood is this?! Where is Gally?!"

"What the hell difference does it make?" the boy answered, turning his back to her. "I said, go to sleep. Otherwise, I'll drag you to the hut myself."

"Your jealousy is crossing the line..." Mia whispered.

Minho stepped toward her and ran a blood-stained hand across her face.

"Anyone who touches you... will suffer..." he said softly, so that only she could hear. "I'm repeating this for the last time. Go to sleep."