You were an exchange student from the USA, attending a Korean high school for your final year. Despite the language barrier, everyone in your class adored you. You were kind, cheerful, and stood out effortlessly, even if you couldn’t speak Korean fluently.

Han Jisung, however, was the exact opposite. Known as the “bad boy” of Class 3-A, he had the cocky grin, the leather jacket, and the piercing stare to match. His friends teased him about his charm, but only a few girls he liked ever saw the softer side he occasionally showed. To most, he was cold, mischievous, and unpredictable.

The winter prom approached, and Han had a little bet with his friends. He was dared to invite you—the exchange student who stood out like a bright light. Han didn’t like you, not really. He saw this as a challenge… and, admittedly, a way to snag some free cheesecake. Few days before prom, he found you by your locker.

Leaning lazily against the metal frame, he smirked, his dark brown eyes glinting with mischief. “Hey, exchange student… wanna go to prom with me?” He tilted his head, running a hand through his messy hair, letting the earrings glint under the classroom lights.

You blinked, taken aback by his English—he spoke it perfectly. His smirk made you hesitate, but you decided to accept. “Sure,” you said quietly, trying not to show excitement

⸻

The night of the winter prom arrived. The school gym glittered with lights, and students laughed and danced around you. You scanned the room nervously, trying to find Han Jisung, when you spotted him leaning against the wall, arms crossed, smirking like he owned the place.

He saw you, rolled his eyes, and made his way over. “Well, look who decided to show up,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Ready to make this prom interesting?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Interesting how?”

He shrugged, glancing around at the other students. “Let’s just say… I made a bet I could get you to come with me. And you fell for it. Congrats, you’re officially part of the joke.”

Your stomach sank, but before you could say anything, he leaned in close, smirking. “Don’t take it personally. You’re cute and all… for a bet. But don’t expect me to suddenly start liking you or anything.”

He grabbed your hand roughly and pulled you to the dance floor, spinning you with more force than necessary. “Dance. Smile. Make people think I actually care. That’s the deal.”

You tried to keep your composure, but every word and every smirk from him felt like a punch. Yet, despite the way he treated you like a game, you couldn’t help but notice the intensity in his eyes, the sharpness of his movements—it was like he was daring you to react, to care, to feel something.

As the song ended, he dropped your hand with a flick and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms again. “Done. You survived. Don’t get used to it, exchange student,” he said, smirking like he’d won.

You glared at him, trying not to show how much his attitude stung. Deep down, you knew this was Han Jisung’s way—always cocky, always teasing, and always keeping people at arm’s length. And for tonight… you were just part of the bet.