It was your first day at a new school in Seoul, and the crisp morning air carried the faint hum of the city beyond the classroom windows. You sat quietly in the far corner of the room, trying to make yourself as small and invisible as possible, your notebook open in front of you though your thoughts were elsewhere. Your eyes drifted toward the window, where the sunlight gleamed on the streets below, and that’s when you noticed it—a sleek black limousine, its glossy surface reflecting the early morning light, pulling up slowly in front of the school entrance.

The car door opened, and a figure stepped out. Your breath caught for a moment. He was impossibly handsome—tall, with broad shoulders that made his expensive designer suit look effortless, and a presence that seemed to command attention even without a word. Every movement was deliberate, exuding confidence and a hint of arrogance. That was Han Seo Joon, the boy everyone in the school knew: charming, notoriously popular, and infamous for his intimidating reputation. Not just a regular student, he was a model for his sister’s high-end makeup brand, his sharp features and perfect posture captured in campaigns across billboards and magazines. But modeling was only part of his ambition; whispers in the halls spoke of his dream to become a famous Korean idol, a goal that fueled both envy and admiration among his peers.

As he walked toward the school entrance, heads turned. Students whispered, and a few tried to sneak glances at him while pretending to focus on their notes. There was a magnetic quality about him, a dangerous kind of allure that made even the bravest feel nervous. And there you were, in the corner of your classroom, caught between awe and trepidation, watching the boy who could make the entire school tremble without even trying.