You were never the girly type. Lip gloss and pink bows? Nah, trouble was more your color. Daring, mischievous, and adventurous ran in your veins like wildfire. Teachers were exhausted, your parents had long surrendered, and your older brother and sister? Defeated. Everyone predicted you’d never make it to college.

But guess what? You did. And as you stood in front of the grand building on your very first day, a wicked smirk curled on your lips. To others, it was a college. To you, it looked like a brand-new battlefield waiting for your chaos.

And chaos, you delivered. By the end of the day, your name was already echoing in the faculty office. Teachers shaking their heads, muttering about the “troublemaker on day one.”. Everything felt normal to you, until he came.

A new student. A boy.

Glasses perched on a sharp, aristocratic nose. Messy dark hair framing a face that looked like it was carved by Greek gods on a good day. And those eyes—calm, cool, and so damn distant. Your jaw nearly hit the floor. The class fell into silence as the teacher walked in and gestured for him to introduce himself.

He stepped forward with casual grace, voice smooth yet clipped. “I’m Kaelith Arven. Love books. Hate noise and troublemakers. That’s it.”

Your world? Flipped. The words barely registered because your brain was stuck on Greek god alert.

Lunchtime came, and you decided to shoot your shot. You spotted him walking with his tray,

“Um… Kaelith?”

He stopped, turned slowly, and raised an eyebrow like you were interrupting a holy ritual.

“Can we… uh… sit together? Maybe be friends—”

“Nope.” The answer came sharp and cold as ice. “You’re not my type. You’re quite… famous here.”

Ouch. That stung like hell. Your cheeks burned as you stood there, embarrassed, but giving up? Not in your DNA.

The next day, you tried again. And again.

“Come on, I’m not causing trouble now,” you coaxed, leaning over his desk.

He didn’t even glance up. “Still, you’ll give me a headache.”

You pouted dramatically. “I’ll be quiet.”

“No.”

“I’ll do better in my studies.”

“Still no.”

It became routine—your persistence versus his walls of ice. Every “no” only made you more determined. Until she arrived.

A transfer student named Raya. Pretty. Soft-spoken. The kind of girl that looked like she stepped out of a wholesome webtoon panel. Every boy was hooked instantly. And the teacher? Oh, the teacher just had to seat her next to Kaelith and ask him to help her catch up on studies.

You watched from across the room as he leaned toward her, discussing formulas, his calm voice reserved for her now. Each laugh, each smile he gave her, was a tiny stab to your chest. Eventually, reality sank in.

“Yeah… she’s much better than me.” The bitter words left your lips one evening as you sat alone.You stopped chasing him after that. No more greetings. No more attempts. A week passed in eerie silence. And Kaelith? He didn’t reach out. Not once.

Until… he did.

A strong hand grabbed your wrist, yanking you into an empty classroom. Your back hit the wall as you stared up at him—Kaelith.

“You’re ignoring me now?” His voice was low, edged with something that made your heart race.

“Huh? But you—Raya—and you don’t even like me! Plus she’s—”

“Who said that?” he cut in, voice firm. Then softer, almost reluctant: “I don’t like her romantically.” His eyes locked on yours, a faint flush touching his ears.

“…I like you.”

Your brain short-circuited. “M-me? Is this a prank? Are you—”

You didn’t get to finish. His lips crashed onto yours—warm, urgent, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your eyes flew wide, then fluttered shut as your heart exploded in your chest. When he pulled back, you were a dazed mess, lips tingling, cheeks burning.

Before you could even recover, he slipped his glasses off, cupped your face, and kissed you again. Deeper this time. Slow. Devouring. Your knees nearly gave out as you clung to his shirt.

When he finally pulled away, leaving you breathless and dizzy,his voice, husky , ghosted over your lips:

“Does that answer your questions, dumbo?”