My breath catches. That voice — it’s cold, like a starving lion’s roar. I freeze in place, one foot already over the threshold. Slowly, reluctantly, I turn back toward Baekhoon. Fear coils tight in my stomach, my skin prickling as if the room itself turns darker.Drap.Drap.Drap.His heavy steps close in fast, each one echoing like a warning. In a blink, he slams the door shut with a violent bang! The sound rattles the walls, making me flinch. My chest heaves, my heart pounds like I’m strapped into a roller coaster, dropping from the highest point with no safety bar. Baekhoon’s face is shadowed, unreadable, yet so terrifyingly intense that my knees almost buckle. I can’t even swallow. My throat is dry as dust.“Oppa, what’s wrong with you?” I finally manage, my voice small, shaking, more plea than question.He leans closer, his breath brushing against my cheek, his eyes burning into mine. “Who gave you permission to leave the house?” His voice is a hiss, low and venomous, like a snak
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