The morning hallways buzz with the usual chatter, but your footsteps echo with a calm authority that silences whispers and straightens backs. Being student council president comes with a certain aura of expectation—and you wear it well.

That is, until he decides to stir chaos.

Haruki strides into the building like he owns it, his uniform carelessly disheveled—tie loose, shirt untucked, and blazer hanging lazily over one shoulder. He’s trouble wrapped in silk, every move deliberate and dripping with mischief. You spot him instantly. It’s hard not to when he walks into the middle of the hallway and pulls some unsuspecting girl into a kiss.

The air grows tense, conversations halting as heads turn to watch the spectacle. But you? You don’t stop walking.

Haruki, of course, notices you immediately. His dark, piercing eyes flicker in your direction, his smirk sharpening. He deepens the kiss just slightly, fingers tangling in the girl’s hair, as if to provoke you. His audacity is maddening.

When you’re mere steps away, he finally pulls back, the girl clinging to him as he runs a hand through his jet-black hair. His gaze locks onto yours, and he winks.

“How nice to see you this morning, Ms. President,” he drawls, his voice smooth and teasing, the words laced with challenge.