The classroom door swung open, and suddenly, everyone forgot how to breathe.
A boy stepped in—tall, confident, sharp features that looked like they were sculpted just to ruin someone's peace of mind. His uniform was perfectly pressed, his tie loose just enough to look effortless.
And then there was that smile. Charming. Dangerous. It seemed too practiced to be real.
The girls around me lost it.
"Oh my gosh—it's JAE!"
"He's even hotter in person! I'm dying!"
I didn't even need to ask who he was. Everyone knew that face. Jung Jaehwan—model, influencer, son of the Luxe Haven Hotel CEO, and brand ambassador for Louis Vuitton. Basically, perfection in human form… or at least, that's what people said.
I went back to scrolling through my phone. Not interested.
Miss Shin cleared her throat. "Class, this is our new transfer student from the U.S., Jung Jaehwan."
Before he could even introduce himself, the door burst open again.
"IT'S TRUE! JUNG JAEHWAN IS HERE!"
The hallway exploded. Students flooded in like moths drawn to the light. Even teachers were pretending to "check attendance" just to see him.
Jaehwan blinked, clearly startled. "Uh… Miss Shin? Maybe… help?"
Miss Shin looked ready to cry. "Everyone back to your classes before I start handing out detentions!"
No one listened.
I sighed. Loudly. Then I said it—two simple words that shut down chaos faster than any teacher ever could.
"Shut up."
The entire room froze.
Every head turned toward me, eyes wide. Even Jaehwan stopped mid-sentence, staring.
I looked up from my phone and met their stares, unimpressed. "Out," I said calmly.
No yelling. No drama. Just authority.
They all scrambled out like scared pigeons.
The silence that followed was beautiful. If only it could last forever.
"Go on," I told Miss Shin, settling back into my seat. She gave me a grateful look before clearing her throat.
"Right. As I was saying—this is Jung Jaehwan. I hope you'll all help him adjust."
She pointed to the empty seat beside me. "You can sit there."
Of course she did.
Jaehwan smiled politely and walked over, every step oozing casual confidence. He sat down, turned toward me, and extended his hand.
"I'm Jaehwan," he said softly, like his name was supposed to mean something to me.
I looked at his hand, then up at his face. "Park Chaeyoung."
We shook hands briefly. His skin was warm. Mine wasn't… obviously.
The girls in class were watching like it was a K-drama premiere. Joon, on the other hand, looked like he'd just bitten into a lemon.
I pulled my hand back and went back to pretending I didn't care.
"As I mentioned earlier," Miss Shin continued, "we'll be voting on which Shakespeare play to perform this term. Our two options are Romeo and Juliet, and The Tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra."
"Hands up for Antony and Cleopatra."
Only a few.
"Okay, Romeo and Juliet?"
Nearly everyone raised their hand.
Predictable.
Jaehwan raised his hand too, of course. He looked so at ease, like he belonged everywhere. Joon hesitated, then raised his hand as well.
"You're not voting?" Jaehwan asked me.
I didn't bother looking up. "No."
"It'll be fun," he said, voice light.
I lifted my gaze slowly, meeting his eyes. "I don't do fun."
The corner of his mouth twitched. "You should try it sometime."
I blinked once. "No, thank you."
The bell rang. Saved by the system.
I stood, slung my bag over my shoulder, and walked out.
The next time I saw him, he was surrounded again—crowds of students pressing in, shouting questions, taking pictures.
"Are you filming another K-drama?"
"Can you follow me back?"
I was halfway down the hall when I heard someone fall.
Jaehwan had broken through the crowd and was helping Joon up from the floor.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Joon muttered, brushing him off. Typical.
By the time I reached the end of the hallway, I heard the principal's voice booming. "Enough! Any more of this nonsense and there will be suspensions!"
The crowd vanished. Just like that.
And still, I couldn't help glancing back once—just once—to see Jaehwan standing there, calm in the wreckage of his own popularity.
Weird.
***
Lunch came.
The Diamond Cafeteria—the untouchable kingdom. Only the elite of Dulwich College Seoul entered those marble doors.
And yet, even among royalty, I sat alone.
People liked to call me the queen. But I knew better. Queens rule. I endure.
I was halfway through ignoring my lunch when I heard shouting near the entrance.
"I belong here! I'm Diamond-ranked!"
The guards dragged some boy out. He was crying.
I barely blinked. Drama was exhausting.
Then—another voice. Calm. Smooth. Familiar.
"I was told to eat here… something about the Diamond League?"
I turned.
Jaehwan again. Of course.
He stood there, taking in the room, his expression unreadable but his presence impossible to ignore.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.
He shrugged lightly. "Ranked second. Guess that gets me a fancy lunch."
Second.
I didn't reply. Just looked away, muttering under my breath, "Figures."
"Huh?"
"Nothing," I said flatly. "Enjoy your food."
He smiled faintly and found a seat—not too close, not too far. The whispers started again, but this time… not about me.
Strange how that felt like relief.
***
After school, the sky was the color of melting gold.
I watched from the steps as students poured out, laughing, finally free.
Jaehwan lingered near the gate, earbuds in. I almost didn't notice the car until it pulled up beside him.
A black Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail.
The tinted window rolled down. "Get in," a man's voice said.
His father. Mr. Jung—the CEO of Luxe Haven Hotel.
Jaehwan hesitated for a second before obeying.
The car slid away like a shadow swallowing light.
And for some reason I couldn't explain, I kept watching until it disappeared.
***
JAEHWAN'S POV
The bell rang, and the noise exploded. Everyone rushed out like freedom was waiting at the gates.
I stayed behind. I always do.
Earbuds in, volume low, I walked toward the bus stop. For once, I wanted quiet—no cameras, no questions, no "Oppa, look here!"
Then it appeared.
A Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail.
Of course.
The window slid down, revealing my father. Perfect posture, perfect suit, and just the perfect timing.
"Get in," he said, checking his watch. "We don't have all day."
I hesitated. "I was just gonna take the bus."
"The bus?" He almost laughed. "You're a Jung, not some lower class student."
The chauffeur opened the door before I could argue. I slipped inside. The silence was deafening.
***
When we reached home, my little sister Jiwoo ran out, hugging me like she hadn't seen me in years. My father smiled faintly, then disappeared into his office. Typical.
And then—her room.
The smell of antiseptic. The soft beep of machines. My mother lay there, pale and motionless.
I sat beside her, taking her hand.
"Hey, Mom," I whispered. "It's me."
No answer. Just the machines. Just the hum of money and loss.
Everyone sees the fame, the name, the shine.
"I know you can't hear… or see me… but you will soon. I promise."
No one sees this.
This is what perfection costs.