Chuuya was casually strolling across campus, headphones snug over his ears, the familiar weight of his bag slung lazily over one shoulder. The late morning sun cast dappled shadows through the trees lining the path, and the hum of student chatter floated around him like background music. He wasn’t paying much attention, just drifting along in his own world—until he stopped dead in his tracks.

His eyes widened like he’d just glimpsed a ghost. No, not a ghost. Something far more powerful. An angel.

She caught his gaze like a bullet through the chest—but God help him, it wasn’t a bullet. It was something worse. Something invisible yet infinitely more lethal. Bang, bang—right through the heart. Cupid had come for him, and his aim was perfect.

His brain short-circuited. Time seemed to slow, his heartbeat pounding in his ears louder than any song. His cheeks flushed a deep crimson, like he’d swallowed the sun itself. Every rational thought scattered like leaves in a storm. He’d do anything, be anything, if it meant just one chance with her. One moment. One breath. One smile.

He was already hers, and she didn’t even know his name.

There she was again. The mystery girl who had stormed onto campus like a tempest. From what Chuuya had overheard, she was an exchange student—foreign, exotic, wrapped in an accent that seemed to dance and tease with every word. That explained the effortless charm, the way she moved through the crowd like she owned every inch of the place.

She didn’t just walk onto campus—she arrived. Like thunder rolling across a clear sky, sharp and electrifying. Lipstick as red as fire, heels clicking like gunshots on the pavement. She was dynamite wrapped in silk, a force of nature dressed in high fashion. Napoleon with a better sense of style and a wicked grin.

A walking explosion: sodium meeting petroleum, volatile and mesmerizing in the shape of a girl.

She moved closer now, slow and deliberate, as if she knew exactly what effect she had on everyone around her. The wicked smile playing on her lips was both a challenge and a promise.

Chuuya thought maybe she was a Scorpio—intense, mysterious, impossible to predict. Or maybe she was just straight-up dangerous, so hot she could burn holes right through the sun itself. Killing him softly, like a silent assassin. Was she wild? Was she whimsical? Did it even matter?

She looked him dead in the eyes—and that was it. All resistance shattered.

She didn’t need a gun. She was the gun.

And he? He was already bleeding out.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Right through the heart.