Cold from the tile floor had seeped into his back.
Alan blinked once, twice—trying to pull things into focus. The ceiling of his apartment was still a blur.
How the hell did he end up face-down on his own floor?
He forced himself upright. Head heavy. Body wrong. Like something was pushing from the inside out.
Memory came back in fragments: the university brochure photoshoot, Bar Ukai, shouting, breaking glass. Then—that girl. Her voice, low, cutting through the crowd. After that—
"Damn it."
The words came out rough, barely a whisper.
His body jolted. He shoved himself halfway up, but his head was still spinning. His right fist slammed into the wall on reflex. A dull thud. His knuckles throbbed.
Hair fell across his eyes. He shoved it away roughly. His breathing still wasn't right.
Alan dragged himself to the mirror.
Then stopped cold.
There was something in his eyes that shouldn't be there.
A silver ring around the iris—like a thin band pressed in from the inside. He narrowed his eyes, hoping it was only the aftermath of a bad night.
It wasn't.
Still there. Unmoving. Not going anywhere.
"Fuck."
The air held. Then came back out—heavier, harsher.
"Damn it all." His voice hardened. "You weren't supposed to be there. You weren't supposed to get involved."
The shout filled the room until his throat felt raw.
But nothing came. No one heard. Just him, his reflection, and that silver ring staring back.
This wasn't a small problem.
This wasn't "it'll sort itself out by tomorrow."
This was a life-or-death situation. A real one.
Air came in slowly. Just enough to make his brain stop screaming. Just enough to keep his hands from wrecking whatever was within reach.
His head started coming back online, bit by bit.
"Okay. Breathe. Think."
The bond had already formed.
That girl from the discipline committee was now… tied to him. Permanently. No reset button.
Fine. Then move.
He had to get to her before she ran. Before she decided to disappear for good. Before everything fell apart beyond repair.
Alan gave a small nod to the mirror.
"Okay. Let's go."
His legs were steadier now. He pulled open the closet and grabbed a plain black shirt. Sprayed a sharp cedar cologne on his wrists and neck. Combed his hair back with his fingers—a few strands still fell across his forehead. He slapped both cheeks—left, right—hard enough to feel the heat in his skin.
Back online.
He glanced at the mirror again.
The cuts and bruises that should've been there from last night's fight? Gone. Like they'd never happened.
He studied his reflection for a long moment.
No emotion in it. Just cold calculation.
"That girl…"
The whisper was quiet, but certain.
"First move. I have to get to her. Whatever it costs. Whatever it takes."
Instinct moved faster than logic. The apartment door shut behind him.
Morning greeted him with a pale, overcast sky. The cold bit at his skin, but Alan didn't care. He paused on the sidewalk, watching the street fill up.
His black BMW G-Power waited where he'd left it—still, unbothered.
Alan got in, shut the door, buckled up.
Hands on the wheel. The engine came alive with a low hum, barely audible. He pressed the pedal. The car rolled out of the lot.
Traffic was already building, but he moved through it easily, threading gaps. The wheel turned smoothly, like he'd memorized every rhythm of the road.
It didn't take long.
Campus appeared ahead. White buildings standing in a clean line.
Alan turned into the parking area and picked a shaded spot. Brakes. Engine off.
He picked up speed the moment his feet hit the courtyard.
Students moved around him like always—some hanging out on the steps, others rushing to class with their eyes glued to their phones. A few glanced over as Alan passed, wondering why he was in such a hurry.
He kept moving, eyes sweeping the area. Sharp. Focused. The silver ring in his irises wouldn't be visible from far away.
'The girl. Where is she?'
"Class starts in twenty. You coming?"
Yuki Haneda's voice came from beside him, casual as always. One hand in his pocket, bag slung over his shoulder.
"I'm not going." Alan didn't look over. Didn't slow down.
Yuki frowned, falling into step beside him anyway.
"Then why'd you even come to campus?"
No answer. Alan kept scanning—the crowd by the main building, the benches, the path toward the library.
"The discipline committee girl. The one who came to my apartment with the Dean. Who is she?"
Yuki raised an eyebrow. "Alina Hamish?" A note of confusion crept into his voice. Yuki had been the one who walked them over that day—he knew exactly who Alan meant.
Alan gave a short nod. "Yeah. Have you seen her?"
"No."
"Where does she usually hang out?"
Yuki thought for a moment, scratching the back of his head.
"Student council room, maybe. Sometimes the library. Sometimes the cafeteria. Or she's in class. Why? What did you do this time?"
But Alan was already walking away before the question finished.
He swept the campus without stopping.
Engineering building to the student council room. The café to the back garden. Every corner that made sense. His legs didn't tire, even after nearly half an hour of searching.
Nobody really tracked his movements. Every now and then someone tossed out a "morning" when they crossed paths, or gave him a small nod from class.
A few minutes later, a voice called from behind.
Sino Yamada—teammate on the basketball squad and one of Alina's classmates—jogged over, slightly out of breath. Hands on his knees, still trying to recover.
"Bro." Still catching his breath. "Alina… she's not in today."
Alan stopped. His head turned fast. "Why?"
"Said she's sick," Sino added, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
"Where does she live?"
Sino straightened up. "Sky Court Hachioji apartments."
Alan didn't wait.
He turned and headed straight for the parking lot.
His phone buzzed mid-stride. Alan grabbed it quickly and almost fumbled it.
"Alan, do you have a girlfriend now?"
That voice. Unmistakable cadence. His sister.
Alan nearly choked on air. He stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. Someone behind him almost walked into him, muttered something under their breath. He didn't care.
"Wait—Airin, how do you even know that?"
"Take a guess."
"Sean Smith." Alan groaned. Had to be. The guy had eyes and ears all over campus, and Alan had clearly been running around looking for Alina all morning. Different departments, yet somehow still in everyone's business.
"Correct!" Airin let out a short laugh. "So? How's it feel? Head in the clouds? World looks beautiful?"
"I'm serious. This isn't the time. I'm trying to find her right now. I need to make sure she's okay."
"Why? Did you two get in a fight?"
"No." His voice dropped lower. "Look—this whole thing was an accident. Yeah, I'll admit I was interested in her. I noticed her. Used to watch her from a distance when she was on her own. But when it happened… I lost control. I was drunk. I wasn't even aware."
"Okay, so make her fall for you. Make her yours. Simple."
Alan snorted. "Easy for you to say. I don't have the first clue how girls think."
"Good. Figure it out. You're a genius. Have some confidence."
"Cracking a server is easier than cracking someone's heart."
"Don't use tech terms on me—I work with DNA, not code. But here's what I'll say: if you're calling this an 'accident,' you're not ready to own it. That girl is already in your system now—whether you like it or not, you need to update yourself. You don't get to just delete her."
"Yeah, I know."
"Or—you could just ask me. About girls, about any of it. I can help."
"Help make it worse, you mean." Alan let out a dry laugh. "You're a tomboy. You're not exactly the girly-girl type."
"Excuse me?!"
Airin's shriek came through loud and sharp. Alan pulled the phone away from his ear for a second.
"Me, Mom, Dad—we still care. Even after everything that's happened, you're still family to us."
"What is it you actually want?"
"To make sure you don't do something stupid. Why does that make you defensive?"
"Because I've been fine on my own. I don't need anyone—"
"How long are you going to keep this up? How much time do you need before you're done chasing this whole lone-wolf thing? Maybe it's time to stop, Alan."
"That's not happening."
"Then what's your plan? Hurting that girl is the same as hurting yourself. If you're struggling, stop pretending you've got it handled."
"Are we done here?"
"God, you are so hardheaded." Airin let out a loud, frustrated breath. "Maybe what's happening to you right now is karma catching up. I hope things work out with her."
The call ended.
Alan stared at the dark screen. A sharp exhale through his nose. His hand tightened around the phone until the case gave a faint creak.
He headed back toward the parking lot. As soon as the car came into view, he spotted Sean—walking easy, scrolling his phone, thumbs flying across the screen.
Their eyes met.
Sean came over. Alan's expression shut down immediately—jaw tight, eyes anything but welcoming.
"Sean. Why did you go tell my sister?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Sean raised an eyebrow, completely unbothered. "That's my job. Keeping your family in the loop about your behavior."
"Not right now, it isn't. You could've waited. You're going to give them a heart attack."
"Fair enough—let me ask you something then." Sean stopped and looked at him directly. "Were you planning to tell your family yourself? Ever?"
Alan said nothing.
"Didn't think so."
"I'll tell them when I'm ready. Stay out of it."
"Stay out of it?" Sean stepped forward—voice rising, sharper now. "After everything I've done to cover for you? That's your version of gratitude?"
Alan held his jaw tight. Said nothing.
"I lobbied the administration office so you wouldn't get expelled. I buried the stories so the university's name wouldn't get dragged through the mud because of you. I've been running interference for you this entire time, Alan. You think you're still here because of your GPA? Because you're the face of the university brochure?"
"Then what do you want from me?"
"Nothing. I know what that bond means, and honestly? I feel bad for you."
"Say what you mean. You're collecting on a debt."
"I don't need anything from you."
"Don't play that angle with me, Sean."
"I know you got cut off from your family. But they still care. Don't give them a reason to regret giving you another chance."
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"Wrong." Sean stepped closer—barely a foot between them now. "Wake up. Open your eyes. And grow up."
"Go to hell." Alan's exhale came out hard and rough.
"Alan." Sean turned and walked. Didn't look back. "Maybe all of this is the price for the way you've been living. Enjoy your new situation."
Sean left.
Alan stood there. Uneven breaths. Fists hanging at his sides—clenched tight enough to drain his knuckles white.
He got in the car. The door slammed hard—a heavy bang, the window rattling faintly.
He floored the pedal. The tires screamed—a sharp, drawn-out screech, leaving two black marks burned into the asphalt.
Having a girlfriend—a partner, another person in his life—was the most un-Alan thing imaginable.
He was too selfish for that. Too addicted to freedom. No one calling the shots. No one checking in. He could wake up whenever, sleep whenever, game until 3 a.m., skip class when he felt like it. Nobody had a problem with that.
Now?
His soul was tied to a girl he hardly knew. Did she run cool—steady, grounding, the kind of presence that made things better? Or did she run hot—the kind that poured gasoline on everything already burning inside him and made it worse?
'What actually happened?'
He replayed the night before—fuzzy, fragmented, pieces that didn't quite connect. He couldn't remember why the fight started. What set it off. He remembered going to the bar with Yuki and Sino. They left early—Yuki had a morning assignment, Sino said he was wiped. After that, Alan stayed. Kept drinking. Then… nothing. The world started spinning fast, like something was being yanked out of him from the inside. A feeling like a surge—like a hit, but nothing he'd ever touched. More than being wasted. Like something else inside him had woken up. Something that wasn't him.
Who were those three guys?
Hammer's people? Danzel's? Random street muscle?
No self-respecting street vet came at Alan. He was the kind of hair-trigger temper—no second chances, no hesitation when it came to throwing hands. His reputation was solid. People knew he wasn't bluffing.
But last night's crew was different.
A flash came back—one of them was covered in tattoos. Was there a butterfly symbol? Hard to say. Dim lights, blurred vision. Alan couldn't place them—faces gone soft, voices like echoes, details swallowed up.
And that's when it clicked.
That girl—Alina—was the last thing he saw clearly before everything went dark.
Worse than that: he'd dragged her straight into the middle of his mess.
If Alina panicked and talked—to the campus board, to the police, or worse, to the wrong people—this wouldn't just be a reputation problem.
This could be the spark that started a war.
At the red light, he had a death grip on the steering wheel—knuckles white, a low sound in his throat.
He laid on the horn the second the light turned green—long and hard, sending the car in front lurching forward.
Why was Alina there?
Was last night a setup?
How did he even get that drunk? Alan didn't have a history of blacking out—he'd built up a tolerance over years, and losing control like that had never been part of the pattern. The whole thing felt too clean. Too deliberate. They hit him when his guard was down, when he was alone, when no one was watching.
"Damn it." He hit the steering wheel—a dull, hard knock. He'd handed his life to Alina without asking, without choosing. And there was no taking it back.
His sister's words. Sean's words. They stuck like a stain he couldn't scrub out.
"Stop pretending you've got it handled alone."
"Without family, without backup, what exactly can you do?"
"Wake up. Open your eyes. Grow up."
Was this the turning point he had to face?
Was this the price he had to pay?
Stop living only for himself—and start something new. With obligations. With another person. With a tie that couldn't be cut.
Could he even do that?