CHAMPION | NCT

o15

Then the sound of someone screaming my name hammered my ears.

Yuta? Ten? Sicheng?

"Sooji, watch out!"

A long metal object was thrusted forward to me and I managed to evade the strike. But it's only a hair away from my gut.

I hunched over and picked up my skirt. If only I had time to rip this thing off-

Someone grabbed my arm.

I wheezed and attempted to elbow - whoever he is - away.

"Hey, hey, hey. Relax, Sooji," a sharp intake of breath... and then the hand around my arm tightened. "It's Doyoung."

"Doyoung?"

I can't see him in the dark. But I believed it's him.

"Goddamnit," he hissed and I can hear him loading bullets into his gun. "Why does that fucking thing glow like that?"

"We need to turn on the lights--"

"Yeah. The enemies might've planned it since they can spot you easily in a sea of black," he grimaced. "But don't break a sweat. Jungwoo and Jaehyun are working on it - oh!"

The lights were restored into life. The chaos became visible to me now.

Doyoung scoffed. "Well, that was fast," then he clutched the gun tightly in his hand. "Alright then."

Click.

"Who dares mess with the Bosses?"

The person who attacked me was gone. A coward. Doyoung sighed in frustration, but he never let go of his weapon.

"Stay right behind me, Sooji," Doyoung said, moving into a protective stance and shielding me.

I looked around left and right.

That's when a prick of terror hit me.

"Have you seen Yuta . . . ?" my breath hitched. He's gone. Even Jaemin is gone. Where on earth are they?

"He's somewhere safe," Doyoung replied.

"Safe?" my brows squinted.

There's no such place as safe inside the Capital.

"I need to find him, Doyoung," I breathed hard. "He needs me."

He blinked rapidly with a glimmer of sweat visible on his forehead.

"Sooji. I am telling you, he's with about a dozen of guards right now. He's fine-"

"Heavens, no, he's not! A lot of people are trying to kill him, Doyoung!" I bit my lower lip. "I am wearing this medal for a reason. I need to keep Yuta alive no matter what!"

Doyoung scratched the nape of his neck.

"Ugh, girls," he mumbled. I heard him, of course.

I bit my lower lip harder and stole the knife that I saw was lying on his belt.

Aside from saying a sudden hey, he didn't do anything to retrieve it.

I mentally apologized for the people - or cyborgs - who worked hard to make this gown.

Because from now on, they will be nothing but sheared rags.

I pointed the blade at the skirt of my gown and tore it impatiently. The feathers scattered around us, as if there was a giant bird who got shot here.

Doyoung was muttering something. "Don't cut it above your knee! You're exposing too much skin. And it's below zero degrees today."

I could care less for that now. All that's on my mind was to rip this fabric so it stops getting in my way -