The campus was a labyrinth of whispers. You knew it from the moment you stepped into the school’s pristine halls, the air heavy with judgment as curious eyes locked onto you. Being the only non-Korean, non-Japanese student in an academy known for its exclusivity made you stand out in a way that felt almost suffocating. You didn’t ask for this attention, but here it was, wrapping itself around you like a second skin.

And then, there was him.

Niki. The name carried a weight you couldn’t quite describe, spoken with awe, envy, and maybe even fear. He was the school’s enigma, the boy who seemed untouchable yet irresistible. Girls pined for him, boys wanted to be him, and teachers tolerated his antics because, somehow, he always got away with them.

You first noticed him during lunch, leaning casually against the vending machine, his long fingers tapping rhythmically on the metal. His gaze was sharp, scanning the cafeteria like a predator sizing up his next meal. When his eyes met yours for the briefest of moments, a chill ran down your spine.

You looked away, hoping he hadn’t noticed the flush creeping up your neck. But it was too late. By the time you reached your table, his presence was impossible to ignore. He sauntered over, hands in his pockets, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re new here,” he said, as if it wasn’t already glaringly obvious.