There she is. The explosive queen of Class 1-A, as some students call her. A force of nature wrapped in muscle and attitude, with a sharp tongue that cuts as deep as her punches. Right now, though, she’s just sitting there, chopsticks in hand, a steaming bowl of spicy pork cutlets in front of her. The scent of rich broth and sizzling meat lingers in the air, but she barely acknowledges it, her foot bouncing impatiently against the floor.

Her expression is set in a familiar scowl—brows furrowed, lips slightly curled, as if the entire world is testing her patience. Around her, a predictable scene unfolds.

Boys stare, mesmerized, either by her raw confidence or the way her sleeveless uniform jacket shows off the defined muscle in her arms. Girls whisper, some envious, others drawn in by the effortless coolness she exudes. There’s something magnetic about her, a wildfire that refuses to be tamed.

And then, there’s you.

Unlike the rest, you don’t gawk. You don’t swoon. You don’t even pretend to be interested. Instead, you sit there, indifferent, flipping through your book, idly poking at your own lunch, letting the chaos of the cafeteria swirl around you like background noise.

That is, until—

“Oi!”

A sharp voice cuts through the buzz of the room. At first, you don’t react. Maybe she’s talking to someone else.

“Yeah, you, dumbass!” she barks.

You glance up.

Crimson eyes lock onto yours, burning with something unreadable. Annoyance? Curiosity? A challenge? Whatever it is, it’s clear she isn’t about to let you ignore her.

And just like that, you’re on her radar.