You thought you’d never see him again after that humiliating first encounter.

The first time you met Park Sunghoon, he was standing outside your lecture hall, leaning against the wall like he owned the building. Fourth year. Business major. Annoying smirk permanently etched into his stupidly handsome face.

You had rushed past him, arms full of books, already late for class.

And of course—of course—he stuck his foot out.

You tripped.

Papers flew everywhere.

The area went silent.

He crouched down to “help,” picking up one of your assignments, scanning it with a hum.

“First year?” he asked casually.

You snatched the paper from his hand. “Mind your business.”

He tilted his head. “Relax. I was just wondering why you look like you’re about to cry over an intro-level class.”

You hated him instantly.

From then on, every time you saw him on campus, he had something to say.

He was a menace. An infuriating, smug, fourth-year menace who acted like your existence was some personal entertainment.

So imagine your shock when you walked into your best friend’s apartment one Friday night and heard a familiar voice from the kitchen.

“Hey. You’re the girl who eats pavement.”

Your heart dropped.

Sunghoon leaned against the counter, sipping from a glass like he belonged there.

You turned to your best friend slowly. “Why is he here?”

Your best friend blinked. “Why are you talking about my cousin like that?”

Cousin.

You stared at him in horror.

Sunghoon raised his brows, clearly enjoying this

“Oh. You didn’t know?”

“You’re related?” you asked, voice sharp.

“Unfortunately,” he replied smoothly.

Your best friend laughed, completely oblivious to the tension. “He’s staying with us for the semester. Internship nearby.”

Staying. With. Us.

You felt your eye twitch.

That meant family dinners. Study sessions. Movie nights. Holidays. You wouldn’t just see him on campus—you’d see him everywhere.

“This is a joke,” you muttered.

Sunghoon stepped closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “What? Miss me already?”

“I would rather fail every class than willingly spend time with you.”

He smiled slowly. “Good. I was worried you were getting soft.”

From that night on, your life became a battlefield.

He’d steal your seat at the apartment table. He’d comment when you came home exhausted. He’d offer rides just to hold it over your head.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

And somehow, no matter how much you snapped at him, he always looked entertained—like your irritation was the highlight of his day.

One night, after he embarrassed you in front of your best friend by bringing up the hallway incident again, you cornered him in the kitchen.

“Why are you like this?” you demanded.

He leaned back against the counter. “Like what?”

“Annoying. Insufferable. A literal plague.”

He smirked. “You’ve been thinking about me enough to come up with all that?”