The hallway went silent the moment you walked in. Transfer student, scholarship tag, public-school uniform stitched into elite fabric. You didn’t belong, and every stare reminded you of it. Laughter trailed behind you—until it stopped. The air shifted. He was there.

Kim Raejin. Son of Jaewon Group. Crowned heir with eyes colder than inheritance wars. Tall, infuriatingly handsome, surrounded by followers who laughed on cue.

You stood by the window seat. Then his shadow fell over your desk.

"You're in my seat," he said, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The others watched, hungry for drama. But he didn’t move. He just stared, eyes narrowed, voice quiet.