The television glow painted the room in restless blue.
Equinox's dorm was alive with noise, but none of it came from them. The broadcast of Monarch's concert replayed again and again, spliced with shaky fan-cams of the chaos that followed—the sudden panic, the flashes of light, the shadow darting across the stage before the cameras cut away.
Yul sat closest to the screen, elbows on his knees, his hair still damp from the shower. His eyes didn't blink as the image looped: Monarch bathed in gold light, then the blur of something not human, then the sound of fans screaming.
Behind him, Ren had his hands buried in his hair, pacing. "It wasn't some drunk fan. That thing was—" He stopped himself, biting hard on the inside of his cheek. His voice dropped lower. "One of yours."
Yul's throat tightened. He didn't argue. Couldn't.
Daehyun sprawled against the couch cushions, gaze sharp even through the lazy posture. "Then it's confirmed. Someone is sending them."
Jun tapped the armrest in a restless rhythm, watching Yul instead of the news. "But why Monarch? Why now?"
The question lanced sharper than intended. Yul felt it in his chest. He drew a slow breath, finally leaning back against the sofa. His voice was calm, but every word scraped.
"Because of me."
The room stilled.
Even the television, mercifully, cut to a commercial.
Ren froze mid-pace, spinning toward him. "What are you saying?"
Yul tilted his head, gaze catching the faint reflection of his own face in the darkened window across the room. He looked too composed for what he was admitting. Too cold.
"They came for Monarch because of me," he said again. "Because I've been seen with him."
Jun's drumming fingers stopped. "Him," he echoed quietly.
Yul closed his eyes for half a heartbeat, and there it was again—heat against his lips, the press of a hunter's body against his own, the way the rooftop air had smelled of rain and danger when Jiwon kissed him back. The way he hadn't pulled away.
When Yul opened his eyes, Ren's expression was caught between fury and disbelief.
"You can't mean—"
"I do." Yul's voice was steady, a blade on its edge. "Jiwon."
The silence that followed was brutal.
Finally, Daehyun let out a sharp laugh, but there was no humor in it. "So the hunter prince and the demon prince sneak behind everyone's backs. No wonder the universe wants blood."
"Enough." Yul's voice cut clean through the air. Not loud, but final.
His hands tightened into fists on his knees. He hated how his pulse betrayed him, still racing with the memory of Jiwon's mouth, Jiwon's eyes, Jiwon's fury at the demon that dared to touch his stage.
It had been reckless. Stupid. Dangerous.
But in the middle of the chaos, Yul had caught it—just for a heartbeat.
The look in Jiwon's eyes.
Not hate. Not entirely. Something else.
Something that could get them both killed.
Yul rose, crossing to the window, staring out at the glittering Seoul skyline. His reflection blurred against the glass, a ghost caught between worlds.
"They'll come harder next time," he murmured, almost to himself. "Stronger. The walls are cracking."
Behind him, Ren's voice trembled with anger. "Then what are you going to do?"
Yul's hand brushed the windowpane, cool against his palm. He thought of Jiwon's fire, the way it had burned even brighter after the attack.
He didn't turn around when he answered.
"Make sure he survives."