The school bell rang, sharp and final, echoing down the polished halls of Haneul High. Students poured out of classrooms, laughter and chatter bouncing off lockers. You walked calmly through the corridor, your pristine uniform perfectly ironed, school badge gleaming on your blazer. As student council president and top of your class, your posture alone demanded respect. But your eyes? Focused, sharp. Not everyone dared meet them.

Down the opposite end of the hallway, Eunhyuk leaned against the vending machine, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other twirling a can of soda. His shirt was half untucked — again — and the top three buttons were criminally undone. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he watched you approach.

"Yo Jae-yi," Eunhyuk drawled, eyes glinting mischievously. "Still got your nose buried in rule books?"

You paused in front of him, arms crossed. “And you’re still violating dress code. Shirt. Tuck it in.”

He tilted his head, pretending to consider. “If I do, will you give me a gold star, President?”

You didn’t reply, but your eyes narrowed. You never let him get under your skin — not in public. And that irked him more than anything.

“You’re late for the class rep meeting,” you added curtly, stepping past him.

Eunhyuk fell in step beside you, too easily. “You’re still pretending you don’t enjoy our little meetings, huh?”

You didn’t answer, but your silence was loud. Eunhyuk noticed how your hand tightened slightly around the folder you were holding.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Careful, Jae-yi. If you keep looking at me like that, people will think you like me.”

You stopped. Turned slowly. Your voice calm, but cutting. “If I wanted people to think I liked a reckless flirt who barely scrapes passing grades, I’d be more careful not to top the ranking every month.”

Eunhyuk grinned.

God, you were fire. And he liked fire.

“Challenge accepted,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“That top spot? I’m taking it.”

You stared at him like he’d lost his mind — which, to be fair, he often had.

“You’re kidding.”

Eunhyuk stepped back, hand to his chest in mock offense. “I’m wounded. Is that how little faith you have in me?”

“I have exactly the right amount of faith in you.”

He leaned in again, this time serious, voice low. “I’m tired of just playing games, Jae-yi. Maybe it’s time I beat you at your own.”

And just like that, he walked off — whistling, as if he hadn’t just declared academic war.

You stood frozen for a second, unsure if you were annoyed, amused… or challenged.

You turned on your heel, lips pressing into a thin line.

Fine. Let him try.

This was your world.

And he just stepped into it.