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felassan · 15 days ago

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Jason Schreier for Bloomberg reports: 'Inside the ‘Dragon Age’ Debacle That Gutted EA’s BioWare Studio'

The latest game in BioWare’s fantasy role-playing series went through ten years of development turmoil. The failure of Dragon Age: The Veilguard, released in October, led EA to gut BioWare

[note: article is below cut after these tweets]

Jason Schreier: "NEW: What went wrong with Dragon Age: The Veilguard? Why was the writing so tonally inconsistent? Why did it feel so shallow? Why were there so few choices? Really, after ten years of turbulence, it was a miracle that anything came out at all. This is the story [link]:" [source]

Jason Schreier: "The fatal flaw for Dragon Age: The Veilguard wasn't just that it pivoted from single-player to multiplayer and back again. It was that after the second pivot, the team was forced to keep going rather than hit the reset button and take the time to create a new plan." [source]

Jason Schreier re: this old tweet from Casey Hudson: "Fun fact: when I first reported at Kotaku in 2018 that Dragon Age 4 was rebooted to become a live-service game, BioWare studio head Casey Hudson wrote this on Twitter. But it was not entirely truthful. In reality, the game was being designed around cooperative multiplayer, replayable missions, etc" [source] Casey Hudson's old tweet from 2018: "Reading lots of feedback regarding Dragon Age, and I think you'll be relieved to see what the team is working on. Story & character focused. Too early to talk details, but when we talk about "live" it just means designing a game for continued storytelling after the main story."

Rest of post/article under cut due to length.

(bold in the text below is mine for emphasis)

"In early November, on the eve of the crucial holiday shopping season, staffers at the video-game studio BioWare were feeling optimistic. After an excruciating development cycle, they had finally released their latest game, Dragon Age: The Veilguard, and the early reception was largely positive. The role-playing game was topping sales charts on Steam, and solid, if not spectacular, reviews were rolling in. But in the weeks that followed, the early buzz cooled as players delved deeper into the fantasy world, and some BioWare employees grew anxious. For months, everyone at the subsidiary of the video-game publisher Electronic Arts Inc. had been under intense pressure. The studio’s previous two games, Mass Effect: Andromeda and Anthem, had flopped, and there were rumors that if Dragon Age underperformed, BioWare might become another of EA’s many casualties. Not long after Christmas, the bad news surfaced. EA announced in January that the new Dragon Age had only reached 1.5 million players, missing the company’s expectations by 50%. The holiday performance of another recently released title, EA Sports FC 2025, was also subpar, compounding the problem."

"As a result of the struggling titles, EA Chief Executive Officer Andrew Wilson explained, the company would be significantly lowering its sales forecast for the fiscal year ahead. EA’s share price promptly plunged 18%. “Dragon Age had a high-quality launch and was well-reviewed by critics and those who played,” Wilson later said on an earnings call. “However, it did not resonate with a broad enough audience in this highly competitive market.” Days after the sales revision, EA laid off a chunk of BioWare’s staff at the studio’s headquarters in Edmonton, Canada, and permanently transferred many of the remaining workers to other divisions. For the storied, 30-year-old game maker, it was a stunning fall that left many fans wondering how things had gone so haywire — and what might come next for the stricken studio. According to interviews with nearly two dozen people who worked on Dragon Age: The Veilguard, there were several reasons behind its failure, including marketing misfires, poor word of mouth and a 10-year gap since the previous title. Above all, sources point to the rebooting of the product from a single-player game to a multiplayer one — and then back again — a switcheroo that muddled development and inflated the title’s budget, they say, ultimately setting the stage for EA’s potentially unrealistic sales expectations. A spokesperson for EA declined to comment."

"The union between BioWare and EA started off with lofty aspirations. In 2007, EA executives announced they were acquiring BioWare and another gaming studio in a deal worth $860 million. The goal was to diversify their slate of games, which was heavy in sports titles, like Madden NFL, and light in the kind of adventure and role-playing games that BioWare was known for. Initially, it looked like a smart move thanks to a string of big hits. In 2014, BioWare released Dragon Age: Inquisition, the third installment in a popular action series dropping players in a semi-open world full of magic, elves and fire-spewing dragons. The fantasy title went on to win the much-coveted Game of the Year Award and sell 12 million copies, according to its executive producer Mark Darrah — a major validation of EA’s diversification strategy. Before long, Darrah and Mike Laidlaw, the creative director, began kicking around ideas for the next Dragon Age installment — code name: Joplin — aiming for a game that would be smaller in scope. But before much could get done, BioWare shifted the studio’s focus to more pressing titles coming down the pike. In 2017, BioWare released Mass Effect: Andromeda, the fourth installment in a big-budget action series set in space. Unlike its critically successful predecessors, the game received mediocre reviews and was widely mocked by fans. A few months after the disappointing release, the head of BioWare stepped down and was soon replaced by Microsoft Inc.’s Casey Hudson, an alumni of BioWare’s early, formative years."

"Like much of the industry, EA executives were growing increasingly enamored of so-called live-service games, such as Destiny and Overwatch, in which players continue to engage with and spend money on a title for months or even years after its initial release. With EA aiming to make a splash in the fast-growing category, BioWare poured resources into Anthem, a live-service shooter game that checked all the right boxes. One day in October 2017, Laidlaw summoned his colleagues into a conference room and pulled out a few pricey bottles of whisky. The next Dragon Age sequel, he told the room, would also be pivoting to an online, live-service game — a decision from above that he disagreed with. He was resigning from the studio. The assembled staff stayed late through the night, drinking and reminiscing about the franchise they loved. “I wish that pivot had never occurred,” Darrah would later recount on YouTube. “EA said, ‘Make this a live service.’ We said, ‘We don’t know how to do that. We should basically start the project over.’” Former art director Matt Goldman replaced Laidlaw as creative director, and with a tiny team began pushing ahead on a new multiplayer version of Dragon Age — code name: Morrison — while everyone else helped to finish Anthem, which was struggling to coalesce. Goldman pushed for a “pulpy,” more lighthearted tone than previous entries, which suited an online game but was a drastic departure from the dark, dynamic stories that fans loved in the fantasy series."

"In February 2019, BioWare released Anthem. Reviews were scathing, calling the game tedious and convoluted. Fans were similarly displeased. On social media, players demanded to know why a studio renowned for beloved stories and characters had made an online shooter with a scattershot narrative. In the wake of BioWare’s second consecutive flop, the multiplayer version of Dragon Age continued to take shape. While the previous games in the franchise had featured tactical combat, this one would be all action. Instead of quests that players would only experience once, it would be full of missions that could be replayed repeatedly with friends and strangers. Important characters couldn’t die because they had to persist for multiple players across never-ending gameplay. As the game evolved over the next two years, the failure of Anthem hovered over the studio. Were they making the same mistakes? Some BioWare employees scoffed that they were simply building “Anthem with dragons.” Throughout 2020, the pandemic disrupted the game’s already fraught development. In December, Hudson, the head of the studio, and Darrah, the head of the franchise, resigned. Shortly thereafter, Gary McKay, BioWare’s new studio head, revealed yet another shift in strategy. Moving forward, the next Dragon Age would no longer be multiplayer."

"“We were thinking, ‘Does this make sense, does this play into our strengths, or is this going to be another challenge we have to face?’” McKay later told Bloomberg News. “No, we need to get back to what we’re really great at.” In theory, the reversion back to Dragon Age’s tried-and-true, single-player format should have been welcome news inside BioWare. But there was a catch. Typically, this kind of pivot would be coupled with a reset and a period of pre-production allowing the designers to formulate a new vision for the game. Instead, the team was asked to change the game’s fundamental structure and recast the entire story on the fly, according to people familiar with the new marching orders. They were given a year and a half to finish and told to aim for as wide a market as possible. This strict deadline became a recurring problem. The development team would make decisions believing that they had less than a year to release the game, which severely limited the stories they could tell and the world they could build. Then the title would inevitably be delayed a few months, at which point they’d be stuck with those old decisions with no chance to stop and reevaluate what was working. At the end of 2022, amid continually dizzying leadership changes, the studio started distributing an “alpha” build of Dragon Age to get feedback internally and from outside playtesters. According to people familiar with the process, the reactions were concerning. The game’s biggest problem, early players agreed, was a lack of satisfying choices and consequences. Previous BioWare titles had presented players with gut-wrenching decisions. Which allies to save? Which factions to spare? Which enemies to slay? Such dilemmas made fans feel like they were shaping the narrative — historically, a big draw for many BioWare games."

"But Dragon Age’s multiplayer roots limited such choices, according to people familiar with the development. BioWare delayed the game’s release again while the team shoehorned in a few major decisions, such as which of two cities to save from a dragon attack. But because most of the parameters were already well established, the designers struggled to pair the newly retrofitted choices for players with meaningful consequences downstream. In 2023, to help finish Dragon Age, BioWare brought in a second, internal team, which was working on the next Mass Effect game. For decades there’d been tension between the two well-established camps, known for their starkly divergent ways of doing things. BioWare developers like to joke that the Dragon Age crew was like a pirate ship, meandering and sometimes traveling off course but eventually reaching the port. In contrast, the Mass Effect group was called the USS Enterprise, after the Star Trek ship, because commands were issued straight down from the top and executed zealously. As the Mass Effect directors took control, they scoffed that the Dragon Age squad had been doing a shoddy job and began excluding their leaders from pivotal meetings, according to people familiar with the internal friction. Over time, the Mass Effect team went on to overhaul parts of the game and design a number of additional scenes, including a rich, emotional finale that players loved. But even changes that appeared to improve the game stoked the simmering rancor inside BioWare, infuriating Dragon Age leaders who had been told they didn’t have the budget for such big, ambitious swings."

"“It always seemed that, when the Mass Effect team made its demands in meetings with EA regarding the resources it needed, it got its way,” said David Gaider, a former lead writer on the Dragon Age franchise who left before development of the new game started. “But Dragon Age always had to fight against headwinds.” Early testers and Mass Effect leads complained about the game’s snarky tone — a style of video-game storytelling, once ascendant, that was quickly falling out of fashion in pop culture but had been part of Goldman’s vision for the multiplayer game. Worried that Dragon Age could face the same outcome as Forspoken — a recent title that had been hammered over its impertinent banter — BioWare leaders ordered a belated rewrite of the game’s dialogue to make it sound more serious. (In the end, the resulting tonal inconsistencies would only add to the game’s poor reception with fans.) A mass layoff at BioWare and a mandate to work overtime depleted morale while a voice actors strike limited the writers’ ability to revise the dialogue and create new scenes. An initial trailer made the next Dragon Age seem more like Fortnite than a dark fantasy role-playing game, triggering concerns that EA didn’t know how to market the game. When Dragon Age: The Veilguard finally premiered on Halloween 2024 after many internal delays, some staff members thought there was a lot to like, including the game’s new combat system. But players were less impressed, and sales sputtered."

"“The reactions of the fan base are mixed, to put it gently,” said Caitie, a popular Dragon Age YouTuber. “Some, like myself, adore it for various reasons. Others feel utterly betrayed by certain design choices.” Following the layoffs and staff reassignments at BioWare earlier in the year, a small team of a few dozen employees is now working on the next Mass Effect. After three high-profile failures in a row, questions linger about EA’s commitment to the studio. In May, the company relabeled its Edmonton headquarters from a BioWare office to a hub for all EA staff in the area. Historically, BioWare has never been the most important studio at EA, which generates more than $7 billion in annual revenue largely from its sports games and shooters. Depending on the timing of its launches, BioWare typically accounts for just 5% of EA’s annual bookings, according to estimates by Colin Sebastian, an analyst with Robert W. Baird & Co. Even so, there may be strategic reasons for EA to keep supporting BioWare. Single-player role-playing games are expensive to make but can lead to huge windfalls when successful, as demonstrated by recent hits like Cyberpunk 2077, Elden Ring and Baldur’s Gate 3. In order to grow, EA needs more than just sports franchises, said TD Cowen analyst Doug Creutz. Trying to fix its fantasy-focused studio may be easier than starting something new. “That said, if they shuttered the doors tomorrow I wouldn’t be totally surprised,” Creutz added. “It has been over a decade since they produced a hit.”"

Article by Jason Schreier. [source]

2K notes · View notes

elryuse · 6 months ago

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ANTHEM pt.2

Multiple Female Idols X Male Reader

TAGS : HAREM, MULTIPLE FEMALE LOVE INTEREST, BLACKMAIL, SEDCUTION

Words : 3,480 Words

For My Other ANTHEM Stories, Please Kindly Check Over Here. Hope You Guys Enjoyed It.

The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow over Y/n’s room. He stretched lazily, his mind still hazy from the events of the night before. The memory of Karina’s touch lingered on his skin like a delicate burn, and he couldn’t help but smile as he replayed their secret moments in his head. But the smile faltered when he remembered Winter—her sly grin, the photo she took, and the way she had left him with that ominous promise.

Y/n dressed quickly, trying to push his unease aside as he headed to the practice studio. The other members were already there, gathered in their usual spots, chatting and stretching. Karina caught his eye immediately, her lips curving into the faintest smile. They didn’t speak, but the warmth in her gaze was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

“Good morning, oppa!” Wonyoung chirped, waving energetically. Her bubbly energy was infectious, and Y/n couldn’t help but laugh as he returned the greeting. Yujin gave him a playful wink, while Chaewon and Yeji exchanged knowing smirks. It was always hard to tell if they were teasing him or just being their usual mischievous selves.

But then Winter walked in, and the atmosphere shifted.

She sauntered into the room with an air of confidence that demanded attention, her eyes locking onto Y/n’s almost instantly. There was something about the way she looked at him—like she knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it. Y/n’s stomach twisted as she approached, her lips curling into a smirk that made his pulse quicken.

“Morning, everyone,” Winter said sweetly, though her gaze never left Y/n. “I was thinking of grabbing some coffee. Oppa, you should come with me. I need someone strong to carry all the drinks.” She paused, tilting her head slightly. “Unless anyone else wants something?”

The others murmured their orders, barely paying attention as they continued their warm-ups. Y/n hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Before he could protest, Winter turned to him, her phone already in hand. She tapped the screen once, and Y/n felt his blood run cold.

It was a photo—blurry but unmistakable. Him and Karina, tangled together in his bed. His heart slammed against his ribs as Winter leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Let’s go, bae,” she purred, slipping her arm through his.

Y/n’s mouth went dry. He glanced at Karina, who was watching them with a frown of confusion, clearly unaware of what was happening. Unable to think of a way out, he nodded stiffly and followed Winter out of the room.

The walk to the café was tense, the silence between them thick with unspoken tension. Winter hummed a tune under her breath, her fingers brushing against his arm every so often as if to remind him she was still there. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Relax, oppa,” she said, her tone light but laced with something darker. “I’m not going to bite… yet.”

Y/n swallowed hard. “Winter, what do you want?”

She stopped walking and turned to face him, her expression suddenly serious. “What do you think I want?” she countered, stepping closer until there was barely any space between them. Her perfume enveloped him, sweet and intoxicating.

“I don’t know,” Y/n admitted, his voice shaky. “But if you’re planning to blackmail me—”

Winter cut him off with a low laugh. “Blackmail? That’s such a harsh word. Let’s call it… negotiation.” She reached up, her fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw. “You see, oppa, I’ve always been curious about you. The only guy in our group, surrounded by all these beautiful women…” Her hand slid down to his chest, resting over his pounding heart. “And yet, you only seem to have eyes for Karina.”

Y/n’s breath hitched. “Winter…”

“Shh,” she whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything. Just listen.” Her eyes locked onto his, gleaming with a mix of mischief and desire. “I’m not asking you to stop whatever it is you’re doing with Karina. I’m just saying… why limit yourself? After all, sharing is caring, right?”

Before Y/n could react, Winter closed the distance between them, her lips capturing his in a kiss that was both demanding and teasing. He froze, torn between pushing her away and giving in to the heat building between them. Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss, her tongue sliding against his in a way that sent shivers down his spine.

When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, and her breathing was uneven. “Think about it, oppa,” she murmured, her voice husky. “No one has to know. Not Karina, not the others… just us.”

Y/n’s mind raced, his thoughts a jumbled mess of guilt, desire, and fear. He opened his mouth to respond, but Winter pressed a finger to his lips again, silencing him.

“No need to answer now,” she said with a sly smile. “We’ve got plenty of time.” With that, she turned and continued walking toward the café, leaving Y/n standing there, his heart pounding and his world spinning out of control.

As he followed her, he couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to spiral even further out of his grasp. And the worst part? A small, traitorous part of him wasn’t entirely opposed to Winter’s proposition.

The café was bustling with activity when Y/n and Winter arrived, the chatter of customers filling the air. Winter’s hand lingered on his arm a moment longer than necessary as they stepped inside, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. She flashed him a mischievous smile, one that made his stomach twist in a mix of anticipation and dread.

“Let’s grab our drinks,” she said, her voice light and breezy, as if nothing unusual had happened between them. But the glint in her eyes betrayed her casual tone. She sauntered over to the counter, hips swaying slightly, and Y/n followed, his heart still racing from their earlier conversation.

As they waited in line, Winter leaned closer to him, her breath warm against his ear. “You know,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing, “this place has the best storage closet. Perfect for… private conversations.”

Y/n stiffened, his pulse quickening. He glanced at her, trying to gauge whether she was serious or just toying with him again. But the way she looked at him—her lips parted, her gaze heavy with intent—told him everything he needed to know.

Before he could protest, Winter grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the line, leading him down a narrow hallway toward the back of the café. His mind screamed at him to stop, to turn around, but his body betrayed him, following her willingly. The thrill of danger, the forbidden nature of what they were about to do, was intoxicating.

She pushed open the door to the storage closet, a small, dimly lit space filled with shelves of supplies. As soon as they were inside, she closed the door behind them, plunging them into near darkness. The only light came from a crack under the door, casting faint shadows across their faces.

Winter didn’t waste any time. She pressed herself against him, her hands sliding up his chest. “You’ve been thinking about this all day, haven’t you?” she whispered, her voice dripping with confidence. “Admit it, oppa. You want this.”

Y/n’s breathing grew shallow, his resolve crumbling under the weight of her words. “Winter, we shouldn’t—” he started, but she cut him off with a sharp look.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said, her tone firm yet playful. “I can see it in your eyes. You like the risk. You like the idea of doing something you know you shouldn’t.”

He couldn’t deny it. The truth was, there was something undeniably thrilling about being alone with her like this, knowing how wrong it was. And Winter knew exactly how to exploit that.

She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging gently as she brought his face closer to hers. Their lips met in a searing kiss, full of pent-up desire and reckless abandon. Y/n’s hands found her waist, pulling her even closer as their bodies pressed together. The heat between them was overwhelming, a fire that threatened to consume them both.

Winter broke the kiss, her breathing uneven, and began unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease. Her fingers traced the lines of his chest, sending shivers down his spine. “So strong,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “No wonder Karina can’t keep her hands off you.”

The mention of Karina made Y/n flinch, guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind. But Winter didn’t give him time to dwell on it. She kissed him again, deeper this time, her tongue exploring his mouth with a hunger that left him dizzy.

Her hands trailed lower, unbuckling his belt with nimble fingers. Y/n’s breath hitched as she reached for the waistband of his pants, her touch deliberate and unhurried. Every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through him, erasing any lingering doubts.

Winter dropped to her knees, her eyes locking with his as she slowly pulled down his pants. The intensity of her gaze made his heart race even faster. She ran her hands up his thighs, her touch feather-light, before leaning in and placing a soft kiss just below his navel.

Y/n’s head fell back against the wall, a low groan escaping his lips as Winter continued to tease him. She took her time, savoring every reaction she drew from him. When she finally took him into her mouth, he couldn’t hold back a gasp, his fingers tangling in her hair.

The room felt impossibly hot, their bodies slick with sweat as the tension between them reached its peak. Winter paused, looking up at him with a wicked grin. “You taste amazing,” she purred, before licking a trail of sweat from his stomach. “Salty… and so addictive.”

Her playful gesture sent another wave of desire crashing over him. He pulled her up, crushing his lips to hers as he fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. Once it was off, he cupped her breasts through the thin fabric of her bra, eliciting a soft moan from her.

Winter arched into his touch, her hands working quickly to remove the rest of their clothes. They stumbled backward, knocking over a stack of boxes as they moved. The sound of clattering items echoed in the small space, but neither of them cared. All that mattered was the electric connection between them, the undeniable need driving them forward.

When they finally came together, it was with a sense of urgency, their bodies moving in perfect sync. Winter wrapped her legs around his waist, her nails digging into his back as she whispered his name over and over. Each thrust brought them closer to the edge, their breaths mingling in the confined space.

Just as they were about to reach their climax, Winter pulled back slightly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Not yet,” she breathed, her voice shaky but determined. “I want to make this last.”

Y/n groaned in frustration, but he didn’t argue. There was something exhilarating about letting her take control, about surrendering himself completely to her whims. She slowed their pace, drawing out each movement until the tension became almost unbearable.

When they finally let go, it was with a shared cry of release, their bodies trembling as they clung to each other. For a long moment, they stayed like that, catching their breath and basking in the afterglow.

Winter was the first to break the silence, a sly smile playing on her lips. “We should probably get cleaned up,” she said, gesturing to the mess they’d made. “And grab those drinks before anyone wonders where we are.”

Y/n nodded, though his mind was still reeling from what had just happened. As they dressed quickly, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt creeping in. What would Karina think if she found out? And what about the others? But Winter seemed unfazed, humming softly as she adjusted her hair in the reflection of a metal shelf.

When they finally emerged from the storage closet, the café was just as busy as before. No one seemed to notice their absence, let alone suspect what they’d been up to. Winter linked her arm with his, leaning in close as they approached the counter.

“Order whatever you want,” she said with a wink. “Drinks are on me. Oh, and don’t forget…” She lowered her voice, her breath hot against his ear. “This is just the beginning, oppa.”

The café buzzed with life as Y/n and Winter returned to the table, drinks in hand. The other members were deep in conversation, their laughter echoing through the space. Y/n handed Karina her iced americano, his fingers brushing hers for just a moment too long. She smiled up at him, patting the empty seat beside her.

“Sit,” she said softly, her voice warm despite the exhaustion lining her features. Y/n obeyed without hesitation, sinking into the chair next to her. He could feel the heat of her body even before she leaned her head against his shoulder, her hair brushing against his neck. It was a simple gesture, but it sent a thrill through him, grounding him in the moment.

From across the room, Winter’s eyes burned into them. Her gaze was cold, almost predatory, as she sipped her drink slowly. But Y/n didn’t notice—or maybe he chose not to. Right now, all he cared about was the way Karina’s breath hitched slightly when their thighs brushed under the table.

The group around them chattered animatedly, their energy infectious. Wonyoung was recounting a story about a fan who had mistaken her for someone else at a recent event, her hands waving dramatically as she spoke. Yeji chimed in with teasing remarks, her sharp wit drawing laughter from the others. Even Chaewon, usually more reserved, was grinning broadly, her cheeks flushed from the excitement.

Y/n tried to focus on the conversation, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Karina. She looked so beautiful like this, he thought, stealing a glance at her. Her lashes fanned against her cheeks as she closed her eyes briefly, her lips curving into a small smile. It was moments like these that made him forget everything else—Winter’s scheming, the pressure of their comeback, the weight of their secret.

But then he caught Winter’s eye. She was still watching them, her expression unreadable. There was something unsettling about the way she held his gaze, as if she were daring him to look away first. Y/n frowned slightly, a flicker of unease creeping into his chest. What did she want from him? And why couldn’t she just let him enjoy this moment?

Karina seemed to sense his discomfort, lifting her head slightly to follow his line of sight. When she spotted Winter, her smile faltered for just a second before she turned back to Y/n. “Hey,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the noise of the café. “You okay?”

He nodded quickly, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Karina studied him for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly. But before she could say anything else, Yeji called out to her, pulling her attention away. Y/n exhaled quietly, relieved. He didn’t want to worry her—not when she already had so much on her plate.

As the conversation continued, Y/n found himself zoning out again, his mind wandering back to the storage closet. The memory of Winter’s hands on him, her lips against his skin, sent a shiver down his spine. He hated how conflicted he felt—how part of him still craved the thrill of their secret encounters, even as guilt gnawed at him.

“Oppa,” Wonyoung’s voice broke through his thoughts, startling him slightly. “Are you going to eat that?” She gestured to the untouched pastry on his plate, her eyes wide and pleading.

Y/n chuckled, pushing the plate toward her. “All yours.”

Wonyoung grinned, grabbing the pastry eagerly. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

The mood at the table lightened again, the tension momentarily forgotten. But Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see Winter standing there, but she was gone. His stomach twisted uneasily. Where had she gone? And what was she planning now?

Karina shifted beside him, her hand resting lightly on his knee under the table. The touch was casual, almost accidental, but it sent a jolt of electricity through him. He turned to her, meeting her gaze. There was something in her eyes—something soft and knowing—that made his heart ache.

Does she suspect? he wondered, panic rising in his chest. But Karina simply smiled, leaning closer until her lips brushed his ear. “Relax,” she murmured, her breath warm against his skin. “We’ll figure it out.”

Her words should have comforted him, but they only deepened his guilt. How could she be so trusting when he was keeping so much from her? He wanted to tell her everything—about Winter, about the photo, about the impossible position he was in—but he couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

Instead, he reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together beneath the table. Karina squeezed gently, her touch reassuring. For a moment, it was enough to quiet the storm in his mind.

But then Winter reappeared, sliding into the seat directly across from him. She set her drink down with deliberate care, her eyes locking onto his. There was a challenge in her gaze—a silent reminder of the power she held over him. Y/n tensed, his grip tightening instinctively around Karina’s hand.

“So,” Winter began, her tone deceptively light, “anyone else excited for the comeback showcase? I heard the choreography is killer this time.”

The others nodded enthusiastically, launching into a discussion about the new routine. Y/n forced himself to join in, though his mind was elsewhere. Winter’s foot bumped against his under the table, lingering just long enough to make her intentions clear. He pulled away sharply, his pulse quickening.

Karina glanced between them, her brow furrowing slightly. “Everything okay?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern.

Winter smiled sweetly, her expression innocent. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Y/n swallowed hard, his throat dry. He couldn’t do this—not here, not in front of everyone. But Winter seemed determined to push him, her every word and action designed to remind him of the hold she had over him.

As the conversation continued, Winter leaned forward slightly, her elbow brushing against Y/n’s as she reached for her drink. Her perfume—something floral and subtly intoxicating—wafted toward him, making his head spin. He could feel her thigh pressing against his under the table, her proximity sending a rush of heat through him.

Karina shifted again, her hand slipping from his as she reached for her coffee. Y/n froze, his breath catching in his throat. Winter smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“You know,” she said casually, turning to address the group, “I think we should celebrate after the showcase. Maybe a night out? Just the seven of us.”

There were murmurs of agreement, the others clearly on board with the idea. But Y/n couldn’t focus on that. All he could think about was the way Winter’s foot was tracing small circles against his ankle, her touch light but insistent.

“Sounds fun,” Karina replied, though her tone was hesitant. She glanced at Y/n, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you think?”

Y/n opened his mouth to respond, but Winter beat him to it. “Oh, I’m sure he’ll love it,” she said with a wink. “Right, oppa?”

He stiffened, his jaw clenching. This was getting out of hand. He needed to put a stop to it—before things escalated further. But how?

Before he could formulate a response, Winter stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “Well, I’m heading back to the dorm. Anyone coming with me?”

The others exchanged glances, clearly torn. “We’ll catch up later,” Yeji said after a moment, waving her off. “Don’t wait up.”

Winter shrugged, slinging her bag over her shoulder. As she walked past Y/n, her hand grazed his shoulder, her nails digging in just enough to leave a mark. “See you soon,” she murmured, her tone dripping with implication.

Y/n’s stomach churned as he watched her go, a mix of dread and anticipation swirling inside him. He knew this wasn’t over—not by a long shot. And as much as he wanted to believe otherwise, he had a feeling things were about to get a lot more complicated.

To Be Continued

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