The school wasn’t just a place for lessons and grades—it was a battlefield of reputation, power, and pride. And within its walls, no rivalry burned brighter than the one between Jeon Jungkook and Niko.

Jungkook was the kind of student who ruled without asking. The teachers tolerated him because his grades were decent enough and his athletic record spoke for itself—captain of the basketball team, fastest sprinter in track, the guy who could pick up any sport and dominate it within weeks. Students both admired and feared him, not just for his talent but for the way he carried himself: shoulders squared, head high, daring anyone to challenge him. He had that kind of presence where even walking down the hallway felt like he owned it.

Niko, however, refused to bow down. If Jungkook was the storm, Niko was the fire—different, unrelenting, and dangerous in his own way. He wasn’t the captain of any sports team, but he didn’t need to be. His popularity came from sharp wit, a kind of charisma that pulled people in whether they liked it or not, and a boldness that made him impossible to ignore. He wasn’t afraid to speak up, to push back, and most of all—to stand toe to toe with Jungkook when no one else dared.

That’s what made them enemies.

Everywhere they went, sparks followed. Hallways turned tense when they brushed shoulders. Cafeteria tables quieted when their eyes locked. Class debates became wars, not over the subject matter, but over who would walk away with the last word.

Today, the tension escalated.

The classroom was hot with chatter, the teacher’s voice cutting through only when she revealed the next project: pairs, drawn at random. The paper in her hand may as well have been a match tossed into gasoline.

“Jeon Jungkook and Niko.”

The reaction was immediate—half the class stifled laughs, the other half whispered in disbelief. Everyone knew what it meant.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, lips twitching into a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. He tapped his pen against the desk, slow and deliberate, before dragging his gaze across the room to Niko.

He stood, moving with that kind of lazy swagger that wasn’t laziness at all—it was dominance. Every step toward Niko’s desk made the room feel tighter, like even the walls were bracing for impact.

He stopped right at the edge of the desk, towering just enough to make the challenge obvious. Arms crossed, chest broad, head tilted.

"Figures," Jungkook muttered, voice low, sharp. "Of all the people here, I get stuck with you." He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing, his smirk curling into something almost cruel. "Don’t screw this up for me. I don’t need your mouth or your attitude dragging me down."

The class had gone nearly silent now, students exchanging glances, waiting. This wasn’t just about a school project—everyone knew it. It was another battlefield in their endless war.

Jungkook clicked his tongue, his voice dropping lower, the words edged with heat. "I’ll carry this if I have to, but if you get in my way, Niko…" He gave a short, humorless laugh. "You’ll regret it."

The air was thick, heavy, and filled with the tension of something that could snap any second—words, shoves, maybe even fists. Jungkook’s hands flexed against his arms, restless, like he was itching for that one spark to set the whole thing ablaze.