The first term was over.

What now?

Results.

And, of course, the number-one spot in the whole school went to—

Kang Taejun!

“This is practically unfair,” muttered a boy slouched in the school corridor with his friends.

“Why, though? He studies more than us,” another replied.

“What? He’s handsome, every girl falls for him, and—as if that wasn’t enough—he tops the class too?!” the first boy exploded. “He even steals other people’s girlfriends!”

The group exchanged a glance.

He’s got his girlfriend stolen.

“Dayum.”

“What do girls even see in him? His personality’s trash. Bet he cheats on exams. And you know what? I heard he hooks up with girls in mot—”

SMACK!

The boy’s head whipped sideways with the hardest slap of his life. His nostrils stung, and he swore he could hear a crack somewhere between his cheek and his dignity. His vision blurred, and when it cleared—

It was his ex-girlfriend.

“…!”

“You punk,” she snapped.

Tears—an Olympic pool’s worth—welled up instantly. His heart was already in shards.

“Look at yourself in the mirror,” she continued. “Then look at him. You hide in corners and dare to insult Taejun oppa?”

The boys shuddered collectively. Oppa? Eww.

“I—” the boy began.

But she shoved him aside and ran forward.

“Oppa!”

The girl didn’t stop at “Oppa!”

No. She ran faster.

And then—she jumped.

Like, full-on, two-feet-off-the-ground, anime-heroine leap.

For a split second, time froze. Her skirt fluttered, her hair caught the sunlight, and everyone could practically hear the romantic OST swelling in the background.

Kang Taejun didn’t flinch.

Didn’t panic.

Didn’t even spill his strawberry milk.

Under the blinding hallway lights, his skin looked like it had been airbrushed by the gods. His jawline was so sharp it could slice through math homework. His lashes were criminally long, his smile the kind that could cause traffic accidents, and his hair—perfectly messy—looked like it had its own personal wind machine following him.

He tilted his body slightly, slid his free arm out, and caught her in a perfect bridal hold—like he’d rehearsed it a thousand times for the drama he was clearly starring in inside his own life.

Gasps filled the hallway.

Girls clasped their hands together.

Boys looked like they’d just been force-fed ten lemons.

“Bro,” one whispered to another, “this is literally the drama I watched yesterday.”

“Yeah… except in that one, the guy’s personality didn’t suck.”

Meanwhile, Taejun just smirked down at the girl in his arms, his eyes sparkling like they’d been Photoshopped in real life.

“You could’ve just said hi,” he murmured.

The girl giggled. The background music in everyone’s head hit its emotional peak.

And somewhere in the corner, the slapped boy silently vowed to transfer schools.

Meanwhile, Taejun’s gaze softened as he looked at the girl in his arms.

But it wasn’t just soft.

It was the kind of intense, slow-blink stare you only see when the male lead has decided the female lead is his property.

He set her gently on her feet but didn’t let go—his arm stayed firmly wrapped around her waist like a territorial cat guarding its food.

“Where were you?” he asked, his voice low, serious, like she’d been missing for a year instead of five minutes. “Do you know how worried I was?”

The girl blinked, flustered. “I—I was just—”

Taejun placed his hand on the back of her head, pulling her closer until their foreheads almost touched. “Don’t disappear like that again. If you do, I’ll search every corner of this school… and drag you back myself.”

Gasps.

Shivers.

Girls in the hallway started fanning themselves.

The boys… instantly regretted still being there.

“Bro, he’s so dramatic,” one muttered, turning away.

“Yeah. I’m getting secondhand embarrassment,” another said, already walking off.

By the time Taejun brushed a stray hair from the girl’s face and whispered, “You belong right here, next to me,” half the boys had fled the corridor entirely.

The slapped boy was the last to leave, muttering under his breath, “This isn’t even a school anymore… it’s a live soap opera.”

As the last of the boys disappeared down the corridor, Taejun’s warm, protective smile… shifted.

The arm around the girl’s waist loosened lazily.

His eyes lost that I’d-cross-oceans-for-you sparkle and replaced it with something closer to I’m-bored-now.

Inside, he was thinking, Finally. Those idiots took forever to leave.

But on the outside—he pulled the girl a little closer, thumb brushing her cheek like a scene from a romance movie. “Are you okay? You ran so fast to me.”

She laughed softly, clearly touched. “Of course. I just… missed you.”

Missed me? he thought, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He’d seen her five minutes ago.

Still, he chuckled warmly—completely fake—and rested his chin on her head. “I missed you too.”

The truth was, her perfume was a bit too strong, her hair clip kept poking his neck, and he was already bored.

But Taejun was nothing if not committed to his image.

He tilted her face up and gave her that signature Kang Taejun smile—the one that made girls blush and boys gag. “Actually…” he said, soft and regretful, “I just remembered I promised the teacher I’d help carry some books to the library.”

Her expression fell a little, but he brushed her cheek gently. “I hate leaving you right now… but I’ll make it up to you after class, okay?”

She nodded, almost shy. “Okay, oppa.”

Taejun gave her one last dazzling grin, then turned and strolled away, already pulling his phone from his pocket.

By the time he rounded the corner, the smile vanished

His eyes hardened, his jaw set.

Finally… now where’s that junior who thinks he can take my place?

It didn’t take long to find out—Class 2-B.

Taejun stopped right outside the door, leaning casually against the wall. To anyone walking by, he looked like he was just killing time, maybe waiting for a friend.

But his fingers tapped against his arm in a slow, sharp rhythm—like each beat was him counting down to someone’s execution.

The classroom chatter spilled into the hallway. He could hear the junior’s laugh—too confident, too easy.

It made Taejun’s teeth clench.

A pair of girls walked past, glancing his way. Instantly, his face softened, lips curving into that practiced, heart-melting smile.

“Hey,” he greeted smoothly, voice warm enough to melt ice.

They giggled and hurried on, whispering to each other.

The second they were gone, his smile dropped like a mask falling.

His eyes narrowed on the classroom door.

”Laugh while you can, kid… it won’t last.”

The classroom door slid open.

For a second, the hallway noise seemed to fade.

There he was.

Jazze.

From Canada.

Tall, with that kind of pretty face that looked like it belonged in glossy magazine spreads rather than a school hallway. His skin was pale and smooth, his blown hair falling just slightly over his eyes in a way that wasn’t messy—just… effortlessly perfect.

But what really made him stand out wasn’t his looks—it was the *softness*.

His gaze was gentle, his steps unhurried, his presence strangely calm. He didn’t look like someone trying to win attention—he *was* the attention.

As he stepped into the hallway, his eyes lifted—right to Taejun.

For a moment, they just looked at each other.

Then… Jazze’s cheeks turned pink.

Not a dramatic blush, but the kind of subtle warmth that made him seem even prettier, like the cold hallway air had kissed his skin.

Girls walking by gasped quietly.

“He’s blushing…”

“Oh my god, that’s adorable.”

Taejun kept his face unreadable, but his thoughts burned.

"What’s with that? Is he shy… or is he mocking me?'

Jazze looked away quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear as he moved past, his soft scent lingering in the air.

Taejun’s jaw tightened.

This wasn’t just another kid.

This was a problem.

Kang Taejun stormed back into his class,anger simmering under his skin. He hated it—hated how he couldn’t get a single word out to Jazze. That soft, flower-like face kept flashing in his mind, knocking every warning off his tongue. And honestly, making that fragile kid cry? Not only would it ruin Jazze, it would ruin Taejun’s carefully crafted image—his *own* golden rule, by the way.

Inside the classroom, the scene was predictable. His best friend, Park Haesoo, was leaning against a desk, chatting away with a group of girls like he owned the place. Their laughter rang out too sweet, too practiced, while the boys at the back glared with a mix of jealousy and irritation. The kind of irritation that came when Haesoo’s charm made everything feel cringey but impossible to look away from.

Not that either of them cared. Taejun and Haesoo had long stopped paying attention to what the guys thought—girls were their arena. Still, if anyone thought Haesoo was any less of a pervert than his best friend, they were dead wrong. Underneath his easy smile, he was just as twisted, just as restless, maybe even a little deeper in those feelings than Taejun himself.

The moment Taejun hit his seat, Haesoo leaned forward, eyebrow arched like he already smelled the drama.

“You look like you just saw your ex get married to your landlord,” Haesoo said casually, twirling a pen between his fingers. The girls around them giggled, but Taejun didn’t even flinch. His brain was still hijacked by Jazze’s face.

“That kid,” Taejun muttered darkly.

“Which kid? Bro, you say that every week. Be specific.”

“The transfer one.”

“Ohhh, flower boy,” Haesoo smirked. “Don’t tell me you—”

“Shut up.” Taejun’s glare could have burned holes in the desk, but his ears betrayed him, turning pink.

Haesoo leaned back, grinning like the devil himself. “So let me get this straight. You dragged me away from my adoring fans”—he gestured at the disappointed girls still hovering nearby—“because some pretty Canadian boy made you forget how to speak words?”

Taejun shot him the face of a man whose pride was currently in the ICU. “He’s not *just* pretty. He’s… dangerous.”

Haesoo blinked. Then burst out laughing so loud the boys at the back threw pencils at him. “Dangerous?! What’s he gonna do, kill you with dimples?!”

Taejun slumped back, one hand in his hair, completely serious. “You won’t get it. I see the potential. That kid… he’s trouble.”

Haesoo tilted his head, studying him. “Wow. You’ve officially lost it. Should I call the nurse? Or just your therapist?”

But Taejun didn’t answer. His eyes had already drifted to the door—half expecting Jazze to walk past, half dreading it, half desperate for it. (Yeah, that’s three halves, but who cares. Taejun was broken math right now.)

Taejun was still sulking in his seat when another voice cut into the moment.

“Oi, Kang Taejun! Why you look like a kicked puppy again?”

It was Minwoo, the class clown, rolling a basketball under his desk. He always smelled like gym socks and bad decisions. The girls hated him, the boys tolerated him, and somehow he thought he was Taejun’s rival. Spoiler: he wasn’t. ( His freind)

Before Taejun could roast him, Sooyeon ( another friend) —the know-it-all class rep—snapped her textbook shut. “Maybe if he studied for once, he wouldn’t look so miserable. Honestly, boys like you two are the reason teachers age ten years in one semester.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Haesoo said lazily, earning a glare from her.

And then there was Eunji ( still his friend ), the gossip queen, who leaned over her desk with a grin sharper than scissors. “Nahhh, I know that look. That’s not study stress. Our Taejun’s got a crush.”

The class *erupted*. Whistles, teasing, exaggerated gasps. Even Minwoo dropped his basketball just to clap dramatically.

Taejun’s pride cracked like cheap glass. “Shut. Up. All of you!” he barked, slamming his desk loud enough for chalk dust to rain down from the board.

But Eunji only smirked wider, phone already out. “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll find out who it is.”

Haesoo leaned back in his chair, watching the chaos unfold like a man eating popcorn at the movies. “This is better than cable,” he muttered.

Taejun buried his face in his hands. God. The walls were closing in. And all because of that one kid—Jazze—who hadn’t even stepped into the class yet.

The classroom was still buzzing with teasing when the door slid open.

And in walked Jazze.

Not drifting past like a breeze this time, but actually stepping *inside*. His arms were full of neatly stacked notebooks, the kind teachers loved to dump on juniors as errands. His expression was calm, soft around the edges, though a faint blush dusted his cheeks from the effort.

The whole room went silent for a beat. Girls lit up instantly, whispering like sparrows. Boys groaned, rolling their eyes. Eunji gasped like she’d just spotted a celebrity.

And Taejun? Taejun froze so hard he might as well have been carved from stone.

“Excuse me,” Jazze said softly, bowing a little. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried—smooth, careful, polite in a way that made him feel untouchable. “Teacher asked me to deliver these notebooks.”

Sooyeon, ever the class rep, jumped up to collect them. But the second Jazze stepped closer, the sunlight from the window caught his profile—those lashes, that gentle curve of his mouth—and Taejun felt his entire existence collapse.

Haesoo elbowed him with zero sympathy. “Bro. BRO. Stop staring before you drool. You look like a dog at a barbecue.”

Eunji leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Ooooh, THIS is the kid? No wonder Taejun’s been acting possessed!”

The class broke into laughter, and Taejun wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

But Jazze—Jazze only blinked, tilting his head slightly as if he noticed the attention but chose not to comment. Instead, he gave the faintest smile, soft and shy, before turning to leave once the notebooks were delivered.

Taejun slammed his palm on the desk, heart racing. “He’s dangerous,” he muttered under his breath, though it sounded more like a confession than a warning.

And Haesoo? He just cackled. “Dangerous? Please. The only thing he’s killing is your reputation "

The second Taejun stormed out of the classroom, three shadows followed him.

“Wait up, drama king!” Minwoo yelled, jogging after him with his basketball still tucked under one arm.

Sooyeon sighed but trailed along anyway, muttering, “If he gets into trouble, we’re all getting dragged into it, so might as well…”

And Eunji? Eunji was already filming on her phone. “This is *prime content*, you think I’m missing it?”

Haesoo strolled in last, hands in pockets, grinning like a cat watching its favorite soap opera unfold.

They caught up just in time to see Taejun freeze mid-step—because there, standing in the hallway with a neat stack of notebooks in his arms, was Jazze.

The junior looked up, surprised at the sudden crowd, a faint pink dusting his cheeks. “Ah… sorry, seniors. I didn’t mean to block the way.” His voice was soft, polite, carrying that fragile-but-anchored aura that made the entire group go still.

Eunji’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god. It’s him. The flower boy junior.”

Sooyeon adjusted her glasses, whispering, “He’s… actually prettier up close. Ugh, that’s unfair.”

Minwoo elbowed Taejun with the subtlety of a car crash. “Bro. BRO. Say something before you combust.”

But Taejun? He just stood there, eyes locked on Jazze, every part of his storming-off plan crumbling into dust. His heart was a mess, his pride in shambles, and worst of all—his friends were watching.

Haesoo smirked, leaning in to whisper loud enough for everyone to hear: “Yup. He’s done for.”

The hallway went quiet. Jazze blinked at the little crowd of seniors staring at him, shifting the notebooks in his arms. “Um… sorry, seniors. Did I get in the way?” His voice was soft, polite, almost too gentle.

And Taejun—mighty, popular Kang Taejun—opened his mouth.

“Yes. I mean—No. I mean… Cheeseburger.”

"..."

Jazze tilted his head, clearly confused, lips parting in the smallest, shy “...huh?”

That was it. The squad exploded.

Eunji dropped to her knees, wheezing. “CHEESEBURGER?! Oh my god, somebody record this—oh wait, I already am!”

Minwoo slapped his basketball against the floor, howling. “Bro really folded like origami! Cheeseburger?! That’s your big line?!”

Even Sooyeon, usually the composed one, covered her mouth to hide her laugh. “This is… genuinely pathetic. I’m embarrassed for you.”

Taejun’s entire soul left his body. “I—shut up! I didn’t mean—!” His face burned so red it could light a fire drill.

But before he could dig himself deeper, Jazze blinked again… and then—softly, gently—he smiled. Not mocking, not cold, just a small, nervous curve of his lips.

“It’s okay,” Jazze murmured, bowing slightly. “Cheeseburgers are… nice.”

And then he walked off, leaving Taejun frozen in the hallway like a broken robot while his squad rolled on the floor laughing.

Haesoo clapped him on the back, grinning ear to ear. “Congrats, bestie.

After the “cheeseburger” disaster, Taejun swore to himself he would never, ever let that flower-faced junior have the upper hand again. But fate clearly had other plans.

Two days later, a little “circumstance” arrived.

It was gym duty. The teacher had paired up seniors with juniors to manage equipment. And guess who Taejun got stuck with?

Yep. Jazze.

Taejun nearly fainted on the spot. Eunji screamed. Minwoo and Haesoo placed bets on whether he’d combust before lunch. Sooyeon rolled her eyes like the heavens had cursed her personally.

And yet… Jazze was genuine. Soft-spoken, gentle, smiling politely as he lifted boxes without complaint. He treated Taejun with respect, even bowing slightly every time they exchanged words.

Which only made it worse.

By the time they finished, the whole class was buzzing with whispers. “Did you see? Taejun and the junior were working together!” “They looked… kind of close?”

Taejun’s pride couldn’t handle it. No way was he going to let people think Jazze was stealing his shine. So he crafted a plan.

The plan: pretend to be Jazze’s friend. Smile, laugh, even throw an arm around his shoulder if needed. To everyone else, he’d look like the perfect senior, kind and supportive. But behind the scenes? He’d quietly bury Jazze’s angel image, bit by bit. Show people he wasn’t that perfect.

And so, Kang Taejun began his little act.

“Jazze! My good friend !” he announced loudly in the cafeteria one day, dragging the poor junior to sit beside him while the squad watched in disbelief.

Jazze blinked, cheeks faintly pink, but smiled softly. “Ah… yes, senior. Thank you.”

Everyone around cooed. “Aww, Taejun is being so nice to the junior!”

Taejun gritted his teeth behind his grin. This was step one. His act was working.

At least, that’s what he thought.

Because every time he tried to make Jazze look weak, clumsy, or out of place… Jazze’s quiet genuineness flipped the script. Somehow, people ended up liking him *even more*.

And Taejun? He was the one looking ridiculous.

At first, it was all an act. Taejun dragged Jazze to sit with him at lunch, waved dramatically in the halls, called him “my junior” loud enough for everyone to hear. His squad rolled their eyes, but the plan was working—or so he thought.

Until Jazze started clinging.

“Senior,” Jazze said softly one day, sliding into the seat beside Taejun without even asking. “You forgot your water bottle. I brought it.”

The class went *aww*. Eunji whispered, “Oh my god, he’s like a devoted boyfriend already.”

Taejun almost choked. “W-what—! No, he’s just a *junior*! Don’t twist it!”

But Jazze only smiled that soft, shy smile and sat closer. Much closer.

From then on, it spiraled.

On gym day, Jazze walked beside Taejun, carrying his extra towel.

In the library, Jazze leaned over his shoulder, whispering questions while Taejun tried not to combust.

Even in the cafeteria, Jazze would gently place food on Taejun’s tray—“You forgot vegetables, senior. You need them.”

And the worst part? Taejun’s squad never let him live it down.

Minwoo: “Bro, he’s literally wifing you up.”

Eunji: “This is the juiciest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Sooyeon: “Pathetic. But cute.”

Haesoo: “Congrats, bestie. You’ve lost your independence.”

At first, Taejun raged. He hissed about how it was all fake, how Jazze was dangerous, how he was only pretending to be his friend.

But slowly… he started softening.

Because Jazze wasn’t fake. Jazze’s kindness wasn’t calculated, his clinginess wasn’t strategic. He was just genuine. And for someone like Taejun, who lived on image and pride, that kind of softness was like a knife to the chest.

One night, when they stayed late after school to finish carrying gym equipment, Taejun caught himself laughing at one of Jazze’s awkward, quiet jokes. Laughing—not faking.

It startled him so much he stopped mid-laugh, staring at Jazze like he’d just grown wings.

“Senior?” Jazze tilted his head, blinking softly. “Are you okay?”

Taejun swallowed hard, heart racing. For the first time, he realized… for a sec his act wasn’t just an act anymor

If Taejun thought Jazze was clingy yesterday , today was hell level unlocked.

The moment Taejun entered class, Jazze appeared at the door holding a lunchbox. *Homemade.*

“Senior,” Jazze said softly, walking right past the teacher like some K-drama lead. “I made this for you.”

Dead. Silence.

The class gasped so loud you’d think a ghost walked in. Eunji literally dropped her pen. Minwoo started wheezing into his sleeve. Sooyeon muttered, “Oh, this is better than Netflix.”

Taejun, meanwhile, wanted to *evaporate*. His carefully built image was cracking like a cheap phone screen.

“H-Hey—what the hell do you think you’re doing, junior?!” he hissed, face on fire. “You can’t just—walk in like that with food! In front of *everyone*!“

But Jazze just smiled—sweet, clueless, soft. “You didn’t eat breakfast, right? I noticed. So I thought…” He trailed off, pushing the box into Taejun’s hands.

The class squealed.

“HE NOTICED?!”

“IS THIS A CONFESSION?!”

“Oh my god, Taejun-hyung is finally tamed!”

Taejun slammed the box onto his desk, glaring murderously. “Shut. Up. All of you!”

But it was too late. His squad was already on the floor.

Minwoo pretended to wipe fake tears. “Our boy’s finally married off.”

Eunji dramatically fanned herself. “This is better than any romance drama.”

Sooyeon recorded the whole thing on her phone, smirking like Satan.

Haesoo leaned in with a smug grin. "Admit it. He’s your type.”

“TYPE?! HE’S NOT MY—” Taejun exploded, but his words were drowned out by Jazze gently opening the lunchbox for him. Inside were perfectly packed sandwiches, neatly cut fruit, even a tiny note that said ‘Fighting, senior!’ with a smiley face.

The class melted

And Taejun? He was wrecked. Totally, utterly wrecked.

Storming out was the only option. He grabbed his bag, muttering death threats under his breath, and shoved open the door—

Only to nearly crash headfirst into Jazze again.

Because Jazze had followed.

“Senior, wait,” Jazze whispered, clutching Taejun’s sleeve. His eyes were big, soft, devastating. “Did… I do something wrong?”

Taejun froze, caught between rage, pride, and the terrifying urge to not make this fragile boy cry.

Taejun froze in the doorway, Jazze clutching his sleeve with those big, glassy eyes. The kid looked like a kicked puppy—soft lips pressed together, lashes trembling, cheeks faintly pink.

And Taejun… wrecked.

His whole body screamed *say something rude, storm out, keep your pride!* But his brain was short-circuiting with one horrifying thought: *If I yell at him now, he’ll cry. And if he cries, I’m dead. My entire reputation will crumble.*

“Ugh—!” Taejun groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He couldn’t, just couldn’t. His pride hated him for this, but his heart (and image) left him no choice.

“Fine!” he barked, snatching the lunchbox back. “I’ll eat it. Happy now?!”

The class collectively *gasped*.

Eunji screeched, “OH. MY. GOD. HE ACCEPTED THE LOVE LUNCH.”

Minwoo fell off his chair laughing.

Sooyeon recorded every second, whispering, “Historical moment. Kang Taejun eats defeat.”

Haesoo leaned back, smirking like the devil himself. “Bestie… you’re whipped.”

“SHUT UP!” Taejun yelled, ears red as he stomped back to his desk. He slammed the lunchbox open and shoved a sandwich in his mouth like it was an act of war.

And then—disaster struck.

It was… delicious.

Like, really delicious. Soft bread, perfectly seasoned, even the fruit was sweet. His pride screamed to spit it out, but his taste buds said otherwise. His jaw slowed, chewing more carefully. His face, unwillingly, softened.

“Senior…” Jazze whispered hopefully, still standing by the desk. “Do you like it?”

Every eye in the room was on him.

Taejun swallowed hard. Looked at Jazze’s flower-soft face. Looked at the expectant eyes of his squad. Looked back at Jazze.

“…It’s… edible,” he muttered, voice low.

The class exploded.

Eunji: “EDIBLE \= LOVE CONFESSION!”

Minwoo: “Call the wedding planner!”

Sooyeon: “Face card + sandwich combo. Taejun never stood a chance.”

Haesoo: “Bestie… just admit you’ve lost already.”

Meanwhile, Taejun’s entire world was collapsing. Because for the first time, eating that stupid lunchbox, he felt… pity. Genuine pity. This clingy little junior wasn’t scheming to ruin him. He was just soft. Too soft.

And that softness was the one thing Taejun didn't know how to fight..