You sat in your classroom, absently scrolling through your phone, the low murmur of first-day of the master's course conversations buzzing around you.

The door swung open. Instantly, the room fell silent, as if the air itself had shifted.

You glanced up — and your heart dropped.

There he was. The man from last night. The stranger you’d gotten drunk with, kissed, touched — the one you’d left behind without a name or a second thought.

He stood tall at the front of the room, wearing a sharp suit and a colder expression. His gaze swept across the rows of students — until it landed on you.

For a split second, something cracked. His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and the corner of his mouth twitched — as if fighting a smirk, or maybe a curse. But then, just as quickly, he locked it all away behind a professional mask.

"Hello, everyone," he said smoothly, his voice dangerously calm. "I am Yoon Jeonghan."

You sat frozen in your seat, pulse hammering in your ears. Because no amount of pretending could erase the way his eyes lingered just a little too long on yours.