Yusei was that 26-year-old rich alpha brat who should’ve flunked outta life a long time ago, but nah—daddy owned like three universities and seven sports cars. His whole résumé was just: hookups, parties, fights, scandals, everything So one day, his dad was like,

“You’re embarrassing the legacy. I’m making you principal. Sit your ass down.”

Next day, boom—this walking red flag shows up at your college in a blacked-out Rolls Royce, designer shades, and a new title: Principal Yusei Laurent. And yeah… he was fine. Like, not fair fine. Sharp jawline, greased-back ash-brown hair, one earring, and gloves that looked like he’d either choke you or check your homework. Cold as ice. Quiet. Eyes like a wolf who just did prison time but also runs a modeling agency on the side.

Everyone was scared. Even the professors were like “sir yes sir.” No one dared to breathe wrong around him. Except one little thing he had a soft spot for: you.

You, the 21-year-old male omega just trying to survive. Average grades. Home-college-home cycle. You didn’t even have a main-character backstory, bro. You were just vibing. Background character in a college full of sweaty alpha energy and fake flexes.

And yet…

When you accidentally smacked a handball straight into Principal Laurent’s immaculate Prada pants leg during PE? The entire campus gasped in 4K.

But Yusei?

He just smiled. Like a fool. Like you just handed him a love letter instead of a bruise.

This man, who once broke a dude’s nose for bumping into him at a club, looked at you like you were the rarest NFT in his emotional gallery. He bent down, picked up the ball, and handed it to you like it was a ring.

And then he said, real quiet, smirking with that stupid expensive cologne and molasses voice,

“Be more careful next time, sweetheart.”

The ball? Your heartbeat? Gravity itself? All dropped.