Ethan dragged his feet down the hallway, hands stuffed in his pockets as his thoughts spiraled into regret.
"That was… that was actually tragic," he muttered to himself, frowning.
"Who says that in a class introduction? Who drops that line on day one?"
His voice echoed slightly in the empty hallway, a mix of shame and dry sarcasm in his tone. "Real smooth, Ethan. Real charming. Definitely didn't sound like an unhinged loser in front of twenty-one strangers."
He sighed, shaking his head. "Maybe I should fake an injury and transfer schools."
The sound of footsteps pulled him out of his spiraling. Up ahead, turning into a dim corridor, was her—the girl who had called everyone pathetic, the one he'd already labeled as way out of his league. Her long hair swayed with every step, her hips moving with a rhythm that screamed confidence and control.
Just behind her was a guy—taller, broader, and moving with a calm, commanding pace. His uniform blazer was open, sleeves rolled just above his elbows. Everything about him radiated the kind of arrogance that didn't need to be loud to be felt.
He's definitely a senior, Ethan thought. No way someone walks around like that without having some sort of power or pull.
He narrowed his eyes as both of them turned the corner and disappeared into a room. The door shut with a soft click.
Ethan's curiosity spiked.
"That's… weird," he mumbled.
He crept forward carefully and stopped beside the door. Right next to it, the top half of a window was slightly open, just enough to see in without drawing attention. He hesitated only a second before leaning in to listen.
Inside, the girl stood in front of the senior, posture calm but clearly submissive in a way Ethan hadn't expected.
"I did everything you asked for," she said, her voice soft, almost reverent. "I came to the school. I stayed quiet. I made it here…"
The guy stepped closer, his smirk lazy but his presence suffocating.
"You did well," he said, lifting her chin gently with his fingers. "Now, what do you say? You want your reward?"
She looked up at him, breath hitching.
"Yes… please."
That's when he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers—slow and deep. A kiss that wasn't gentle, but controlled. Possessive.
Ethan's eyes widened. What the actual hell…
This was her? The same girl who looked like she'd rather die than be in the same room as everyone else? And now here she was, melting under some senior's grip, begging for a kiss?
Back in the room, the senior broke the kiss slowly, pulling back with a calm, practiced ease. A thin line of spit stretched between their lips before finally snapping. His hand moved from her chin to her neck, not with force but with a kind of possessive control, fingers grazing her skin in a way that made her shiver.
"Let's get to giving you your real reward," he said, his voice deep and low like a command whispered directly into her spine.
"On your knees."
His eyes locked onto hers—intense, sharp, unwavering. A stare that stripped away any pretense she had left.
"Yes—!" she blurted out, her voice cracking slightly as she dropped to her knees, the movement rushed, uncoordinated, almost desperate.
"I don't have to tell you what to do," he said, tilting his head, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.
She nodded quickly, her gaze still lowered. "Yes."
"Just yes?" His tone sharpened just a little.
"Yes, master," she replied, this time with more clarity. Her voice trembled with both fear and anticipation.
He froze.
That was definitely the sound of a zipper. Not the rustle of clothes. Not a bag being opened. A zipper.
Ethan blinked hard, his brain scrambling for any explanation that didn't align with what his gut was screaming.
No, no, no… maybe she dropped something. Yeah. A pen, or—her phone! Maybe it fell into his pocket or something. That makes sense, right?
He tilted his head slightly, still watching.
The girl remained on her knees, back perfectly straight, head slightly bowed—slowly moving. Methodical. Focused.
Or maybe she's tying his shoelaces? Yeah. That's a thing. Maybe he asked her to tie them, maybe he's got some disability—nah, the guy just walked in here with the confidence of a goddamn mafia boss. No limp, no cane. Hell, he probably doesn't even blink unless it's on purpose.
His heart thudded louder. The guy's hand had slid into his pocket, head tilted back slightly now, his jaw slack, eyes half-lidded in what could only be described as indulgent bliss.
Shoelaces don't make you look like you're on a euphoric drug trip, Ethan thought, his face slowly falling.
Still, he clung to the last thread of denial.
Maybe… maybe she's checking something. A cut? A wound? Yeah! Maybe he's got something on his leg and she's patching it up like some loyal nurse—no, shut up, Ethan, you're lying to yourself and you know it.
The realization crept in slowly, like cold water soaking through socks.
That zipper sound… her posture… his face…
He swallowed hard.
She's actually doing it. That cold-blooded, terrifying, emotionless girl… is on her knees doing… that.
His jaw dropped slightly as the truth settled like lead in his gut.
"What the hell is going on…?" he muttered under his breath, unable to tear his eyes away.
As Ethan stood there, trying to come to terms with what he was witnessing, curiosity got the better of him. He leaned closer to the half-open window, squinting to see more clearly.
Thud!
"Ow—what the hell…" he hissed under his breath, stepping back. He looked down after noticing a sharp pain and it was his body part that smacked into the wall. A part that was not supposed to be up if not for his excitement — he had a boner!
"Damn, this is all toe exciting"
Inside, a heavy breath caught his attention again.
The guy leaned back against the wall, looking like he'd just had the best massage of his life. The girl stood slowly, brushing her skirt down with practiced grace. Her face flushed, lips slightly parted, and that proud cold aura she had earlier… now replaced by something softer, almost fragile.
"You've definitely improved," the guy said with a faint, satisfied grin, his tone laced with amusement and something else—something that made Ethan shiver just listening to it.
The girl looked down, fidgeting slightly before replying, "I practiced… just like you said."
There was a beat of silence. The air in the room felt heavy.
The guy reached for his trousers, casually adjusting it before zipping it up with a quick motion. He turned toward the door like it was just another day.
But the girl stepped forward in a panic. "W-wait, where are you going?" Her voice was low, urgent—desperate.
He paused, one hand on the door handle. Then, slowly, he glanced back over his shoulder.
"Don't be greedy," he said calmly.
"Good girls know how to wait."
The girl stood frozen, lips parted as if she wanted to say more. But the words never came.
"Clean up," he added. "We'll talk later."
With that, he stepped out, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.
Ethan blinked. The shift in her posture was instant. Shoulders sagged, head lowered. A look of pure disappointment washed over her face—one he wouldn't have expected from someone who usually looked like they didn't care about anyone or anything.
And then—her eyes turned.
Directly at him, Ethan.
Their gazes locked for a split second before Ethan's instincts kicked in.
Oh crap oh crap oh crap! His brain screamed as he ducked down below the window ledge. She saw me. She definitely saw me. I'm screwed. I'm so screwed.
His heart pounded like a war drum. Play it cool? Run? Leave the country? Change my name to Fred and work at a gas station in another city?
Ding-ding-ding!
The school bell rang, snapping him out of his internal spiral.
Without thinking, Ethan bolted—his legs carrying him faster than he thought possible, down the hallway and straight back to class like he hadn't just been spying on a scandal worthy of a K-drama cliffhanger.
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