Cha Soo-jin is the kind of student who always has her head in the books and her eyes on the prize. Straight-A's, organized notes, perfect attendance-she knows what she wants and doesn't let anything distract her. Here comes Sim Jaeyun: campus heartt...
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♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡
Cha Soo-jin had three alarms set for Friday afternoon.
One at 3:30 p.m. — to pack her things and mentally prepare for the disaster waiting in the library.
One at 3:45 p.m. — labeled "Deep breaths. You're calm. You're collected."
And one at exactly 3:55 p.m. — titled, in all caps, "DO NOT KILL SIM JAEYUN NO MATTER WHAT HE SAYS."
By 3:56 p.m., she was already seated in their reserved table at the second-floor corner of the school library—one of the quietest areas. Her folder was open, her gel pens lined up like soldiers, and her laptop already booted up to the shared Google Drive folder she created last night. She even made a shortcut for it on her desktop. Because when fate decides to pair you with your mortal academic nemesis, the only thing left to do is over-prepare.
Jaeyun arrived at 4:04 p.m.
Not horribly late. But late enough to earn him a stare.
He strolled in with exactly one pen clipped to his shirt collar, his tie already loosened like he came from a modeling gig, and two drinks in his hand.
He placed one in front of her with a cocky smile. "Peace offering."
She narrowed her eyes. "You poisoned it?"
He laughed, settling into the chair beside her—why beside me—like he belonged there. "Tempting, but no. It's an iced Americano. No sugar. Just the way you pretend you like it."
She lifted the cup suspiciously. "I actually do like it this way."
"Of course you do." He leaned in slightly, elbow on the table, chin in hand. "Ice cold. Bitter. Unforgiving. Very on brand."
Soo-jin clicked her pen and flipped to the project outline she printed. "Let's focus. I made a timeline for our work sessions."
Jaeyun blinked as she slid the paper toward him. "Wait—you already picked the topic?"
"You don't ask cats if they want to be bathed," she said without looking up. "You just do it. For the greater good."
He snorted. "Wow. That might be your most insulting metaphor yet. I'm honored."
"I'm not here to honor you," she said flatly. "I'm here to pass."
He leaned back, hands behind his head as he read the title. "'Artificial Intelligence in Education: Balancing Automation and Human Empathy.'" He raised a brow. "Actually kinda cool. I thought you'd pick something like... the ethics of margin alignment."
"Do you want me to change it to that?"
"God no. Yours is good." He reached for the outline again. "Wait... what's this emoji system?"
