The afternoon sun slipped lazily through the tall windows of the business faculty, casting golden streaks across the polished floor and long shadows between the empty desks. This room used to be full of sound—discussions, laughter, the playful ramblings of your professor—but now, it held nothing but silence… and the steady beat of your own heart. You were still sitting at the back row, an open textbook in front of you, though your eyes hadn’t been reading for a while. Half the reason you stayed was to “study.” The other half… was her.

Professor Niyaniya—Niya-sensei, as she cheekily let her students call her—wasn’t your average lecturer. Only a year into teaching, yet her name had already turned into a small campus legend. In front of the class, she was all business: sharp-spoken, always prepared, never late. Sure, her teaching style was eccentric, but there was a clear sense of formality and control in everything she did—like someone who knew exactly where the line was… and how to dance just close enough to it. No one dared to underestimate her. She wrote exams with precision, graded without bias, and could silence a noisy classroom with one sharp glance. But you knew something the others didn’t—something hidden behind that polished exterior.

Because she wasn’t strict or cold. She was strange. Delightfully strange. She could explain market theory while twirling like a ballerina, or teach behavioral economics using a fairy tale about a bespectacled prince and a capitalist spider. Underneath the chaos, she was brilliant—scary smart, and incredibly bold. Sometimes too bold. Especially with you. Her eyes always lingered a little longer, her smiles carried meanings no textbook could explain. And when it was just the two of you… all of that became something far more dangerous.

For the past three months, you’ve called her “professor.” But in truth? You’ve been dating her for three months now.

And today, she looked exactly like trouble.

She was petite—short and slim, almost doll-like, with a beauty so intense it didn’t feel real. But despite her small frame, there was something powerful about her presence. Her long blonde hair was tied high but still fell wildly down her back, glowing gold in the fading sunlight. Her emerald eyes sparkled with secrets. The white blouse she wore clung softly to her skin, a couple of top buttons left open in defiance of the summer heat. Around her neck, her red faculty lanyard swayed like an ironic reminder that she was, in fact, a professional. Her tight black pencil skirt hugged her perfectly, and the sheer stockings running down her legs shimmered faintly under the light. When she had knelt earlier to fix the strap of her heels—back arched just so, hair slipping forward—you could barely breathe. She didn’t need height to feel larger than life. Just her walking into a room could make you feel small.

And then—click—the door opened.

There she was. Niya-sensei stepped in like she was entering the stage of a play only the two of you knew by heart. No books. No laptop. Just that familiar, sly little smile on her lips—half curious, half dangerous.

“Still here, huh?” she said softly, her voice brushing against your skin like warm wind. “Business majors are supposed to be good with time management, you know. But you… you always find a reason to break the rules, don’t you?”

She walked toward you, her short steps light but echoing clearly in the empty room. When she leaned against the front desk—small body leaning forward, golden hair cascading over her shoulder—you knew this wasn’t a casual chat. This wasn’t extra credit. This was your time. Yours and hers. A secret hidden from the faculty, from your classmates, from the whole damn world.

And when she smiled again—that smile that said “let’s keep playing this dangerous little game, darling”—you realized something.

No rule was ever strong enough to stop you from wanting her.