Against the Algorithm

Chapter 30: Where She's Held

He didn't move.

Didn't speak.

Just lay there, one arm tucked securely around her waist, the other curled beneath her shoulders, holding her in that soft, breath-stealing silence that only existed in the earliest hours of morning. And as he looked down at her, at the girl sleeping so peacefully against him—shoulders no longer tense with pain, lips parted just slightly in sleep.

Sicheng let out a breath so quiet it barely counted. This girl—his girl—had stolen into his life like a whisper and made a place for herself he hadn't realized was waiting to be filled. And now, with her tucked into him like she belonged there, like she had always belonged there, he knew with quiet certainty. He wouldn't let her go for anything.

Pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head, the warmth of her hair brushing gently beneath his lips, Sicheng exhaled slowly—deep and quiet and content—as he let his eyes fall shut once more. The steady rise and fall of her breathing anchored him, dulled the restlessness that always came with early mornings and schedules, muted the ever-spinning gears in his mind. With her in his arms, curled so naturally against him, the world could wait. What he didn't know—what he wouldn't realize until later—was that just outside his office door, still quietly cracked open, Rui stood like a sentry, arms folded, his ever-present clipboard gripped tightly in one hand like a divine symbol of judgment. Kwon stood beside him, leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, expression unreadable—but his presence spoke volumes. Between the two of them, an unspoken wall had formed.

Pang, Lao Mao, and Lao K had wandered down the stairs just minutes earlier, drawn by the absence of noise and the ever-persistent curiosity that came when their Captain disappeared. Lao Mao had spotted the cracked door first, nudging Pang and pointing.

"He's not in his room," Pang whispered. "Think he crashed in the office?"

Lao K raised a brow, quietly speculative.

They got close enough to hear the even, quiet breathing inside—two people, not one.

But just as Pang reached for his phone, the flat sound of Rui's voice stopped him mid-motion.

"Take one step closer? I'll deduct your bonus for the entire quarter and your pay gets halved for the next two months."

Pang froze.

Lao K cleared his throat and began a slow, respectful backstep.

Lao Mao muttered a soft "Nope." and backed away immediately.

Kwon didn't even look at them when he added coolly, "And your next scrim block will start at 5 a.m. for a week."

That sealed it.

Pang muttered something under his breath about "hostile workplace policies against romantic documentation." and turned around, dragging Lao Mao with him. Lao K shook his head once and followed, silent and unsurprised.

And the office door?

Remained exactly as it was—cracked, undisturbed, and guarded like a state secret. Because if there was one thing the team understood with absolute clarity, it was this. When Rui and Kwon stood united in defense of something. There would be no survivors foolish enough to cross them.

Later that afternoon, the sound of footsteps thudded up the stairs, a mix of boots and sneakers against hardwood as the team filtered back in from the arena. The door cracked open first, and Lao Mao's voice carried through the hall before any of the others were fully inside. "Where's our honorary nurse and our disgraced Substitute Midlaner?" he called, far too cheerful for someone who'd just finished a full match day.