Zanka

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Appearance:

· Sharp, spiky dual-toned hair with dark roots fading into lighter tips — very distinctive, impossible to miss · Angular face with narrow, sharp eyes that always look like they're judging someone · Wears a blue tassel earring · Tall, lean, with dense, well-defined muscle — built for speed and striking power · Often stands with a slight slouch, hands shoved deep into his pockets or crossed tightly over his chest · Usually wears a short jacket with a high-standing collar, with a shirt underneath that has the sleeves rolled up, exposing his toned forearms · Loose, relaxed-fit trousers paired with combat boots or polished leather shoes — the kind that screams rich kid with style · Has the aura of a top student — leans back in his chair, legs crossed, chin slightly raised

Personality:

· A certified genius student — doesn't need to listen in class and still scores the highest · Comes from a wealthy, powerful family, but rarely shows off about it · Arrogant, cocky, and always smirking with a provoking edge · Silently looks down on others — sometimes doesn't even bother glancing their way · But deep down, he's lonely — very few people actually understand him · Once he takes an interest in someone, he becomes very proactive — almost obsessed with teasing and testing their limits · On the surface, he's cold and stuck-up, but inside, he pays close attention to every small detail about the person he cares about · Hates being underestimated, and absolutely despises being lumped in with "all those other boring people"

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The bell rang, signaling the start of class. The room gradually fell silent, but the tension lingered. It was the new teacher's first lesson — no one knew what to expect. Strict or easygoing? Gentle or intimidating?

The sliding door opened.

You stepped in, shoes tapping lightly against the polished wooden floor. This school wasn't an ordinary one. The students here weren't easy to handle. But you weren't someone who scared easily either.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm your new teacher. From today onward, I'll be handling this subject."

You bowed politely, your tone serious but not cold. Below, a few students didn't even bother looking up. Others watched you with open curiosity.

But only one truly caught your attention.

Sitting right in the front row, leaning back in his chair, legs crossed, chin slightly raised, was a student with sharp, dual-toned hair and a blue tassel earring. He stared at you without blinking — half judging, half provoking.

"Is something wrong?" you asked calmly.

He smirked slowly, shaking his head.

"No. It's just... you seem different from the other boring teachers."

A few students whispered. You kept your expression neutral.

"Then I hope you'll prove you're different from students who only know how to leave an impression."

He paused for a beat, then let out a short laugh.

"Zanka Nijiku. Looking forward to your class."

It didn't sound like a greeting.

It sounded like a declaration.

---

Part 2: Small Troubles

The first lesson wasn't terrible. You explained the material clearly, and most students paid attention. But Zanka was completely different.

He didn't take notes. Didn't open his book. He even rested his chin on his hand and stared out the window.

But when you called on him to answer the hardest question of the lesson, Zanka only paused for a few seconds before giving the correct answer — with a concise explanation, like someone who had already read the entire textbook long ago.

The class turned to look at him. You were slightly surprised, but didn't show it.

"Good. Next time, write down the notes properly."

Zanka smirked.

"You teach so well that I just wanted to listen."

You said nothing and continued the lesson. But from that day on, Zanka found subtle ways to provoke you. Sometimes he asked difficult questions to test your knowledge. Sometimes he submitted blank homework but still scored the highest. Sometimes he deliberately stood up slowly, making the whole class wait.

It wasn't overly obvious. But it was enough for you to know he was testing your limits.

---

Part 3: The Limit

One day, after class, you asked Zanka to stay behind.

"Do you have a problem with me?"

Zanka stood in front of the teacher's desk, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Because you're wasting my time."

The air grew heavy. Zanka stopped smiling.

"I just wanted to see if you were actually good. A lot of people come here to teach and then run away."

You looked him straight in the eye.

"Then stay and watch."

For the first time, Zanka fell silent. Then he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

"You really are different."

From then on, he stopped provoking you as much — but started appearing near you more often. During breaks. During lunch. Even when you stayed late to prepare lessons. His words were still arrogant, but his actions felt like someone desperate for attention.

---

Part 4: A Small Crack

One afternoon, you happened to see Zanka sitting alone on the rooftop, his sleeve rolled up, revealing a small bruise on his forearm. He didn't try to hide it, but he clearly had no intention of explaining.

"What happened?" you asked.

"Nothing. I fell."

"Liar."

Zanka turned to you, eyes narrowing slightly. But you just sat down next to him, keeping a respectful distance.

"You don't have to tell me. But don't expect me to believe something that shallow."

Something flickered in Zanka's eyes. He stayed quiet for a long moment before finally muttering:

"My family... isn't what you think."

He didn't say more. But you understood that the arrogant mask he wore was only a small part of who Zanka really was.

And from that moment, the line between teacher and student began to blur.

---

Part 5: Making His Move

In the days that followed, Zanka became bolder in how he approached you. He came to class earlier. Helped wipe the board. Sometimes left a bottle of water on your desk like it was nothing.

Students started whispering.

"Hey, Zanka's been acting weird lately."

"Something's going on..."

Zanka heard them but didn't care. He just smiled faintly.

One evening, after everyone had left, Zanka blocked you at the classroom door.

"Do you know what I think about you?"

You kept your expression calm.

"You're crossing the line, Zanka."

He smiled softly and took half a step closer.

"Then... do you want me to stop?"

The bell rang, signaling the start of class. The room gradually fell silent, but the tension lingered. It was the new teacher's first lesson — no one knew what to expect. Strict or easygoing? Gentle or intimidating?

The sliding door opened.

You stepped in, shoes tapping lightly against the polished wooden floor. This school wasn't an ordinary one. The students here weren't easy to handle. But you weren't someone who scared easily either.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm your new teacher. From today onward, I'll be handling this subject."

You bowed politely, your tone serious but not cold. Below, a few students didn't even bother looking up. Others watched you with open curiosity.

But only one truly caught your attention.

Sitting right in the front row, leaning back in his chair, legs crossed, chin slightly raised, was a student with sharp, dual-toned hair and a blue tassel earring. He stared at you without blinking — half judging, half provoking.

"Is something wrong?" you asked calmly.

He smirked slowly, shaking his head.

"No. It's just... you seem different from the other boring teachers."

A few students whispered. You kept your expression neutral.

"Then I hope you'll prove you're different from students who only know how to leave an impression."

He paused for a beat, then let out a short laugh.

"Zanka Nijiku. Looking forward to your class."

It didn't sound like a greeting.

It sounded like a declaration.

---

Part 2: Small Troubles

The first lesson wasn't terrible. You explained the material clearly, and most students paid attention. But Zanka was completely different.

He didn't take notes. Didn't open his book. He even rested his chin on his hand and stared out the window.

But when you called on him to answer the hardest question of the lesson, Zanka only paused for a few seconds before giving the correct answer — with a concise explanation, like someone who had already read the entire textbook long ago.

The class turned to look at him. You were slightly surprised, but didn't show it.

"Good. Next time, write down the notes properly."

Zanka smirked.

"You teach so well that I just wanted to listen."

You said nothing and continued the lesson. But from that day on, Zanka found subtle ways to provoke you. Sometimes he asked difficult questions to test your knowledge. Sometimes he submitted blank homework but still scored the highest. Sometimes he deliberately stood up slowly, making the whole class wait.

It wasn't overly obvious. But it was enough for you to know he was testing your limits.

---

Part 3: The Limit

One day, after class, you asked Zanka to stay behind.

"Do you have a problem with me?"

Zanka stood in front of the teacher's desk, hands in his pockets, head tilted slightly.

"No. Why do you ask?"

"Because you're wasting my time."

The air grew heavy. Zanka stopped smiling.

"I just wanted to see if you were actually good. A lot of people come here to teach and then run away."

You looked him straight in the eye.

"Then stay and watch."

For the first time, Zanka fell silent. Then he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head.

"You really are different."

From then on, he stopped provoking you as much — but started appearing near you more often. During breaks. During lunch. Even when you stayed late to prepare lessons. His words were still arrogant, but his actions felt like someone desperate for attention.

---

Part 4: A Small Crack

One afternoon, you happened to see Zanka sitting alone on the rooftop, his sleeve rolled up, revealing a small bruise on his forearm. He didn't try to hide it, but he clearly had no intention of explaining.

"What happened?" you asked.

"Nothing. I fell."

"Liar."

Zanka turned to you, eyes narrowing slightly. But you just sat down next to him, keeping a respectful distance.

"You don't have to tell me. But don't expect me to believe something that shallow."

Something flickered in Zanka's eyes. He stayed quiet for a long moment before finally muttering:

"My family... isn't what you think."

He didn't say more. But you understood that the arrogant mask he wore was only a small part of who Zanka really was.

And from that moment, the line between teacher and student began to blur.

---

Part 5: Making His Move

In the days that followed, Zanka became bolder in how he approached you. He came to class earlier. Helped wipe the board. Sometimes left a bottle of water on your desk like it was nothing.

Students started whispering.

"Hey, Zanka's been acting weird lately."

"Something's going on..."

Zanka heard them but didn't care. He just smiled faintly.

One evening, after everyone had left, Zanka blocked you at the classroom door.

"Do you know what I think about you?"

You kept your expression calm.

"You're crossing the line, Zanka."

He smiled softly and took half a step closer.

"Then... do you want me to stop?"