The lecture hall was nearly empty when Tae Seon-woo started packing up his notes, the echo of footsteps and murmurs retreating into the evening air.
From the doorway, Jea-hyun leaned casually against the frame, one eyebrow cocked, eyes glinting with that reckless energy Tae found both infuriating and impossible to ignore.
"Well, professor," Jea-hyun drawled, voice low but dripping with challenge, "You sure know how to put a room to sleep."
Tae's gaze lifted, calm but cool. "It's a lecture, not a party."
Jea-hyun smirked, stepping inside, the worn sneakers tapping softly on the polished floor. "Yeah, yeah. But if you're going to be all stiff and formal, at least make it interesting."
Tae regarded him for a moment, noting the easy confidence Jea-hyun wore like a shield—and maybe a weapon.
"What do you want, Jea-hyun?" Tae asked, folding a page with careful precision.
Jea-hyun shrugged, eyes flickering to the scattered papers. "Maybe I'm curious. About how someone who looks like they belong in a museum can still make people listen."
Tae's lips twitched, not quite a smile.
"That's a very specific observation."
Jea-hyun shrugged again, unapologetic. "I notice things."
There was a pause, thick with unspoken words.
"You don't have to put on the cold act with me," Jea-hyun said quietly, voice dropping a notch.
Tae's eyes met his—steady, unreadable.
"I'm not acting."
Jea-hyun laughed, a sharp sound that bounced off the walls. "Whatever you say, ghost in a turtleneck."
He tossed a glance over his shoulder, then started toward the door.
"Oh, and professor?"
Tae didn't respond.
Jea-hyun paused, smirk widening. "Try not to get too comfortable with me showing up late. Might start thinking you like it."
And with that, he was gone, leaving Tae with the faintest trace of disarray in a world built on control.
The lecture hall was nearly empty when Tae Seon-woo started packing up his notes, the echo of footsteps and murmurs retreating into the evening air.
From the doorway, Jea-hyun leaned casually against the frame, one eyebrow cocked, eyes glinting with that reckless energy Tae found both infuriating and impossible to ignore.
"Well, professor," Jea-hyun drawled, voice low but dripping with challenge, "You sure know how to put a room to sleep."
Tae's gaze lifted, calm but cool. "It's a lecture, not a party."
Jea-hyun smirked, stepping inside, the worn sneakers tapping softly on the polished floor. "Yeah, yeah. But if you're going to be all stiff and formal, at least make it interesting."
Tae regarded him for a moment, noting the easy confidence Jea-hyun wore like a shield—and maybe a weapon.
"What do you want, Jea-hyun?" Tae asked, folding a page with careful precision.
Jea-hyun shrugged, eyes flickering to the scattered papers. "Maybe I'm curious. About how someone who looks like they belong in a museum can still make people listen."
Tae's lips twitched, not quite a smile.
"That's a very specific observation."
Jea-hyun shrugged again, unapologetic. "I notice things."
There was a pause, thick with unspoken words.
"You don't have to put on the cold act with me," Jea-hyun said quietly, voice dropping a notch.
Tae's eyes met his—steady, unreadable.
"I'm not acting."
Jea-hyun laughed, a sharp sound that bounced off the walls. "Whatever you say, ghost in a turtleneck."
He tossed a glance over his shoulder, then started toward the door.
"Oh, and professor?"
Tae didn't respond.
Jea-hyun paused, smirk widening. "Try not to get too comfortable with me showing up late. Might start thinking you like it."
And with that, he was gone, leaving Tae with the faintest trace of disarray in a world built on control.