FULLY CLAIMED | Giyoon / MingiYoonho

Chapter 1 - A newly transfer

The second semester of senior year was not when anyone wanted to be the “new kid.” Everyone already had their groups, reputations, and invisible hierarchies. Yet that was when Park Yoonho walked into the gates of the prestigious Seoul Daehan High, clutching the strap of his worn-out backpack a little too tightly.

He was tall, neat, polite in a way that seemed almost old-fashioned. Coming from a small town outside Seoul, his accent was a little different, softer, and his uniform didn’t quite match the sharpness of the students around him. It made him stand out, and in this school, standing out wasn’t always a good thing.

Especially when Hong Mingi was watching.

Mingi didn’t sit in the back of the classroom because he was quiet. He sat there like a king overseeing his territory. His family’s wealth was no secret — his watch cost more than most students’ tuition, and his father’s name carried weight in the city. Everyone knew better than to cross him. His words could ruin a reputation. His smirk could make someone’s life miserable.

So when Yoonho walked in, bowing politely to the teacher and introducing himself with a steady, respectful voice, Mingi leaned back in his chair. His sharp eyes narrowed in interest.

A new face. Fresh, polite, too clean for this place.

During lunch, Yoonho had no choice but to sit alone in the corner of the cafeteria. He quietly ate from a modest lunchbox while groups of students filled the air with chatter and laughter. That’s when a shadow fell over his table.

“Transfer student,” Mingi’s voice carried a kind of lazy amusement. “Park Yoonho, right?”

Yoonho looked up, startled. “...Yes?”

Mingi dropped his tray onto the table without waiting for permission, sliding into the seat across from him. His friends lingered nearby, watching with grins like they knew a show was about to start.

“You don’t look like you belong here,”

Mingi said, his tone smooth but edged. “That uniform—did you even buy it here, or is it secondhand?”

Yoonho stiffened. His instinct was to answer politely, but something about Mingi’s stare made him feel like every word would be used against him. “...It’s from the school store."

Mingi chuckled, leaning forward. “You’re not from Seoul, are you? The way you talk—too proper. Too careful. People will eat you alive if you keep that up.”

“I’ll be fine,” Yoonho replied firmly, though his hand tightened around his chopsticks.

That answer seemed to amuse Mingi even more. He tilted his head, studying him like prey that had dared bare its teeth. Then, with deliberate slowness, he picked up Yoonho’s lunchbox, examining it before setting it back down.

“You’re interesting,” Mingi said finally, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Let’s see how long that confidence lasts.”

When he stood to leave, his friends snickered. Yoonho sat frozen, heart pounding with the strange mix of fear and defiance that came from being noticed — not by just anyone, but by the one person in school no one wanted attention from.

For Mingi, though, the decision had already been made. Park Yoonho wasn’t just another transfer student. He was going to be entertainment.
And maybe, something more.

For the first week, Yoonho tried to convince himself that Hong Mingi’s attention would fade. Maybe it had just been a passing curiosity. Maybe if he kept his head down, focused on his classes, and avoided unnecessary conversations, Mingi would get bored and move on.

But Mingi wasn’t the type to get bored.
On Wednesday, Yoonho stayed behind after gym to change slower than the others, hoping to avoid the noise of the locker room. He hated the attention his height brought, the way people whispered about his polite country accent. Just as he buttoned his shirt, he realized he wasn’t alone.

A voice spoke from the doorway.
“Transfer student.”

Yoonho turned sharply. Mingi was leaning against the doorframe, still in his PE uniform, his hair damp with sweat, one hand holding his phone lazily as if he had all the time in the world.

“What do you want?” Yoonho asked, sharper than intended.

Mingi’s smile widened. “Relax. I just thought I’d check how you’re settling in. This place isn’t exactly welcoming for… outsiders."

“I don’t need your help,” Yoonho said, gathering his things quickly.

“That’s good,” Mingi replied, lifting his phone. The camera lens gleamed for a second, making Yoonho freeze. Click. The sound of a snapshot.

“What are you—”

“Nothing much,” Mingi said innocently, tucking the phone back into his pocket. “Just keeping memories.”

Yoonho’s stomach twisted. He had been halfway through buttoning his shirt when the photo was taken. Vulnerable. Not indecent, but enough to make him uneasy.

Mingi stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You should see your face right now. Nervous. Scared. That kind of expression? People would find it… fascinating.”

“Delete it.”

“Why should I?” Mingi’s eyes gleamed, savoring Yoonho’s reaction. “I think I’ll hold onto it. Don’t worry, I won’t show anyone—yet. Unless, of course, you give me a reason.”

Yoonho clenched his fists. He wanted to snap back, to demand, but Mingi’s calm confidence pressed down on him like a weight. One careless move, and Mingi would flip it against him.

Mingi tilted his head, watching him struggle. Then he leaned in close enough that Yoonho could feel his breath by his ear. “Be careful, transfer student. In this school, reputation is everything. One picture… one rumour… and you’ll find yourself very, very alone.”

Then, as quickly as he had come, Mingi stepped back, flashing that arrogant smile. “See you around.”

He left Yoonho standing in the empty locker room, chest tight, fighting the urge to slam his fist against the lockers.

For the rest of the day, Yoonho couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every time he looked up, Mingi was somewhere in the room — lounging in his seat, whispering with his friends, or just staring with that unreadable smirk.

It wasn’t physical bruises Mingi left on him. It was something sharper: the constant pressure of being controlled, of having his vulnerability balanced in someone else’s hands.

And Yoonho knew this was just the beginning.

By the second week, Yoonho had learned the rhythm of the school: who sat where in the cafeteria, which stairwells were quiet, which teachers looked the other way when Mingi and his group roamed the halls.

But avoiding Mingi was impossible. The boy had a way of appearing everywhere, like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

At first, Mingi’s moves were small — a picture snapped when Yoonho’s head was down on his desk, a recording of him muttering answers under his breath in class. Nothing incriminating, but enough to remind Yoonho he was being watched.

Enough to chip away at his peace.

Then came Friday.

It was between classes when Mingi’s hand closed around Yoonho’s wrist, pulling him into the empty AV room. The door clicked shut, muffling the noise of students in the hallway.

“What are you doing?” Yoonho hissed, jerking his arm back.

“Relax.” Mingi leaned casually against the desk, twirling his phone in his hand. His smile was sharp, predatory. “I just wanted to talk.”

“You could’ve done that outside.”

“Not the kind of talk I want.” Mingi tapped his phone screen, and a still image lit up. Yoonho in the locker room, mid-change, shirt half-unbuttoned, his expression startled and defensive.
Yoonho froze.

“Delete it,” he said, voice low.

Mingi chuckled. “You keep saying that, but you don’t seem to understand. I don’t delete things. I collect them.” He looked up, eyes glinting. “But don’t worry. I won’t show anyone… as long as you do something for me.”

Yoonho’s jaw tightened. “What do you want?”

Mingi stepped closer, lowering his voice as though savoring every word. “At lunch, you’re going to sit at my table. With me. In front of everyone.”

Yoonho blinked. Of all the humiliating scenarios he’d imagined, that wasn’t the one he expected.
“Why?”

“Because it’ll be fun.” Mingi’s smirk deepened. “Everyone knows I don’t share my table. Imagine the whispers when the transfer student suddenly shows up next to me. They’ll wonder what makes you special. They’ll stare. You’ll hate every second of it. And I’ll enjoy watching you squirm.”

Yoonho’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.” Mingi’s eyes didn’t waver. “But remember — if you refuse, maybe this photo finds its way into the class group chat. Or better yet, the whole school forum. How fast do you think gossip spreads here?”

The silence between them was suffocating. Yoonho’s heart pounded, his pride screaming at him not to bow, not to give in. But the image on Mingi’s phone burned in his vision. He couldn’t risk it.

“…Fine,” he said finally, his voice tight.

Mingi’s smile softened, almost pleased. He reached out, patting Yoonho’s cheek like one might reward a pet. “Good boy. See? That wasn’t so hard.”

At lunch, the cafeteria erupted in whispers when Yoonho walked to Mingi’s table and sat down stiffly at his side.

Mingi acted casual, chatting with his friends as if nothing was unusual, but every so often his hand brushed against Yoonho’s tray, his knee bumping against Yoonho’s under the table — subtle reminders that this was his doing, that Yoonho was only there because he’d made him.

And though Yoonho stared at his food, trying to block out the stares, Mingi watched him with satisfaction.

The transfer student had taken his first step into Mingi’s world.

And Mingi had no intention of letting him step out.

💙Start with new story even though didn't finish others yet, crazy. 😮‍💨