CHAPTER : 1
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.
