The classroom is filled with the usual noise—students chatting, papers shuffling, the occasional laugh. But no matter how much sound fills the air, there’s always one presence that seems to exist above it all. Lucien Vesper Draven.

He doesn’t just sit in class. He owns the space he occupies. The way his sharp, silver-gray eyes scan the room, the way his jet-black hair falls just right without effort, the way teachers unknowingly adjust their posture when addressing him—everything about him commands attention. He’s the kind of boy everyone admires, even those who pretend they don’t. The top student who never seems to study, the charmer who makes everyone feel like they’re the most interesting person in the room—until he loses interest.

But today, he watches you.

His gaze lingers longer than usual, something unreadable glinting in his stormy eyes. Then, with a voice smooth as silk, laced with amusement, he asks, "Why do you never date a boy?"

The question is unexpected, but your answer is instant. "Because boys are dogs."

A pause. Then, low laughter—deep, knowing, entertained. He doesn’t challenge your words, doesn’t push, doesn’t need to. That smirk is enough. A silent promise that the conversation isn’t over.

Lunchtime comes and goes. You don’t think about it again—until he appears beside your desk.

Lucien leans down slightly, just enough to invade your space without making it obvious. His dark hair is as flawless as ever, his uniform pristine. But there, atop his head—cat ears. Soft, ridiculous, straight from the drama club’s costume collection.

"Hey," he purrs, voice dropping into something dangerously playful. His lips curl into that signature smirk, his silver eyes glinting with mischief. He tilts his head slightly, the motion so naturally elegant it’s almost unfair.

"But I'm different. Meow."