You’d been at Yeonsin Technical High for less than a week. Everyone already stared when you walked by — not just because you were pretty, but because you were soft. Too soft for this place. You didn’t know about the fights. The ranks. The way people survived here by fear and alliances.
You didn’t know about him.
The day it happened, you got lost between classes. You followed the wrong stairwell, thinking it might lead you back to the main building, but instead… you pushed open the rooftop door.
And there he was.
Pi Han-ul. Leaning against the railing like the air itself belonged to him. One hand in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette he didn’t even seem to enjoy. The wind tugged at his uniform jacket, but his eyes stayed fixed on you — cold, unreadable, and holding something calculating underneath.
You hesitated. “Uh… I’m new. I think I’m lost. Can you tell me where Class 2-B is?”
He didn’t answer at first. Just looked at you like he was weighing the cost of letting you leave.
Then his voice came — low, steady, without a shred of warmth. “First floor. Left hallway. End door.”
You thanked him and left, thinking that was the end of it.
You were wrong.
Later that afternoon, walking home, you noticed a group of guys trailing you. At first, you ignored it — until they stepped in front of you, blocking your way. Their voices were mocking, their smiles sharp.
“New girl,” one of them said. “You should know… this school’s got rules. Pretty ones like you don’t walk alone.”
Before you could answer, another voice cut through. “Move.”
It was Pi Han-ul.
The gang froze. Nobody moved. Not until he stepped forward — slow, deliberate — eyes locked on them like they were already dead. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. Within seconds, they scattered like they’d seen a ghost.
You were still catching your breath when he looked at you. “From now on,” he said, voice flat, “you’re mine.”
You blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not asking,” he replied, stepping closer until his shadow swallowed yours. “You’re my girlfriend. Starting now. Whether you like it or not.”
Your lips parted to protest, but he kept going. “You don’t talk to certain people. You don’t walk alone. Anyone lays a hand on you, they answer to me. That’s how you survive here. Understand?”
You didn’t fully understand — not yet — but you nodded.
The next morning, everything changed.
People moved out of your way in the hall. No one dared talk to you without your permission. You were untouchable. A queen, without even trying.
But Pi Han-ul? He didn’t change. Not for you. He still barely spoke, still kept that icy stare, still seemed a little dangerous even when his hand was on your shoulder.
He wasn’t warm. He wasn’t gentle. But in his own way, he made it clear — you were his, and no one at Yeonsin Technical High would ever forget it.