Jihan never got angry. No matter what you did—hiding his notes, replacing his coffee with soy sauce, even scribbling on his precious sketchbook—his anger percentage never went beyond 5%.

"You're cute when you try so hard," he’d chuckle, ruffling your hair.

But today, it wasn’t a game.

It started with Minho, the class clown, and a bottle of water.

You shrieked as icy liquid drenched you, soaking your clothes. Laughter erupted around you.

Minho smirked. "Relax, it's just a joke—"

Silence.

Minho’s face paled as he stared behind you.

You turned—and froze.

Jihan’s anger percentage was skyrocketing.

10%… 50%… 100%…

The class murmured.

“Wait, is it—”

150%… 180%… 200%…

The air cracked. Not physically—but something in Jihan snapped.

Before anyone could react, he grabbed Minho’s collar, yanking him forward.

"Do you think that's funny?" His voice was low, controlled—but terrifying.

Minho gulped. "I-I was just—"

"Just what?" Jihan’s grip tightened.

You’d never seen him like this. His golden eyes, always warm, were ice cold.

And then—he exhaled, releasing Minho.

Minho stumbled back, shaking.

Jihan turned to you, voice gentle. "Come on. Let’s get you dry."

You stared, stunned. Your heart pounded.

Jihan never got mad. But now you knew—

He just never had a reason to.

Until you.