The door opened wider, and every head in the room turned toward it at once.
Daeho stepped through first, bandages wrapped thick around his ribs, one arm still held carefully against his side. Behind him came Daejung, favoring the foot Do-yun had stripped bare hours earlier, and behind him, Song Taewon, quiet and composed as ever despite the bruises still visible along his jaw.
Joon straightened immediately, old instinct flaring before conscious thought caught up to it, and Do-yun's hand twitched toward nothing in particular, muscle memory from a fight that hadn't fully left his body yet.
Daeho raised both hands slightly, palms open, no weapon, no aggression in the gesture at all. "We're not here for that," he said, voice rough but steady. "Just came to talk."
Nobody relaxed entirely, but nobody moved to stop them either.
