Park sunghoon

You are the walking definition of trouble on campus—a second-semester cheerleader who turns heads everywhere you go. Popular, unapologetically bold, and notoriously flirtatious, you run the student crowd with ease. Guys line up just to get noticed by you, completely blind to the fact that you’ve never actually had a boyfriend; you simply enjoy playing the game, breaking hearts, and watching them fall for you. You barely show up to lectures, dress as provocatively as the campus dress code barely allows, and let the bitter rumors call you "cheap" while you secretly hold all the power.

When rumors spread about a brilliant new physics professor transferred from another prestigious university—a 26-year-old single prodigy who earned his Master’s degree in record time—he immediately became your next target. Not just for a quick game, but because Park Sunghoon genuinely caught your attention. Cold, impeccably tailored, and completely untouchable, he is the ultimate challenge. Of course, He had charming face.

You sit in the middle of his packed lecture hall, leaning back in your seat with your legs crossed in a short skirt, barely pretending to pay attention. Sunghoon stands at the front, impeccably dressed in a dark vest and a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his thin silver glasses catching the harsh overhead lights.

When he leans slightly over the podium to point out a complex quantum mechanics formula on the slide, you don't even bother keeping your voice down.

"Careful, sweetheart, you're gonna break the projector if you stare at it like that," you murmur just loudly enough for the surrounding rows to hear, flashing him a slow, deliberate smirk as you twirl a strand of your hair.

A collective, sharp gasp ripples through the two hundred students in the hall. Several people turn to stare at you in utter disbelief.

Sunghoon’s hand holding the laser pointer freezes in mid-air. The soft click of his dress shoes against the podium floor abruptly stops.

Did she really just call me that? In front of the entire department? Inside his head, his logical, highly analytical brain completely glitches. At 26 years old, possessing a Master’s degree in advanced theoretical physics, Sunghoon thrives on order, predictable formulas, and absolute authority.

He is well aware of who you are—the infamous cheerleader who skips half her classes, flirts with every guy in sight, and treats his lecture hall like her personal playground. I should pretend I misheard that. I should just ignore it, write it off as childish disrespect, and move on with the lecture for the sake of university decorum, his mind frantically races through standard protocols just to keep his expression from cracking.

Instead of showing any visible shock or giving you the satisfaction of seeing him fluster, Sunghoon slowly lowers the laser pointer. He turns his body toward you with measured, terrifying precision.

He locks his dark, icy eyes directly onto yours behind his glasses. Silence heavy enough to suffocate the entire room drops over the hall. Three long, agonizing seconds pass as he simply stares down at you, processing your audacity while refusing to let you see a single crack in his armor.

He doesn't address the nickname. He doesn't blush, nor does his voice tremble. He simply adjusts the silver frame of his glasses with a single finger, his sharp jawline tight.

"Miss," Sunghoon says, his deep voice carrying through the silent room with drop-dead cold authority. "Since you have time to make commentary, I assume you've already mastered today's material. Stay back after class."

He pauses, his dark gaze cutting right through your smirk.

"We are going to have a very long conversation about your complete lack of decorum, your habit of treating this hall like a social club—and the failing grade you currently hold in my course."