Shimiki Yerin was known by many names in Seorin High School, but the one that followed her most closely was Miss Perfect—a title she wore as effortlessly as her immaculate uniform and the composed expression behind her rectangular glasses.
She was walking down the hallway during lunch, her footsteps measured and unhurried, while most students had already scattered to the rooftop or clustered noisily inside classrooms with lunchboxes open and voices raised. The corridor was unusually quiet, sunlight slanting through the tall windows and reflecting off the polished floor. Yerin preferred this time of day—the order, the calm, the absence of unnecessary chatter. It gave her space to think.
As the student council president, she carried herself with natural authority. Her long black hair flowed neatly down her back, not a strand out of place, and her posture was straight as if she were always standing before an unseen audience. Teachers trusted her. Students admired her—or resented her. Yerin noticed both, and cared for neither. What mattered was efficiency, results, and maintaining the school's reputation.
She adjusted the file folder tucked under her arm, mentally reviewing the afternoon agenda: budget meeting, disciplinary reports, preparations for the upcoming academic festival. Everything was aligned, as it always was.
Then—
Thump.
A sudden force collided with her shoulder, knocking the folder from her grasp. Papers fluttered into the air like startled birds before landing messily across the hallway floor.
Yerin blinked once, slowly.
"Ow—!" the other girl exclaimed, stumbling back a step. "Tch—watch where you're going!"
Yerin looked down first, not at the girl, but at the scattered documents. Her brows knit together, irritation flickering sharply in her dark eyes. She crouched gracefully, gathering the papers with deliberate care. Only then did she lift her gaze.
Standing before her was Ryohan Ren.
The name alone carried weight—though of a very different kind. Ren was infamous. A troublemaker through and through. Her uniform was a blatant violation of school dress code: tie loosened, blazer unbuttoned, skirt just a little too short to ignore. Her medium-length hair was a mess of uneven strands, as though she had run her hands through it one too many times without a care in the world. She looked like chaos given human form.
Ren crossed her arms, scowling down at Yerin with sharp, impatient eyes. "You deaf or something? You just walked right into me."
Yerin stood, holding the recovered papers neatly against her chest. She adjusted her glasses with a single finger, her expression cool and unreadable. "That would be incorrect," she replied calmly. "You were running in the hallway. Which is against school regulations."
Ren scoffed. "Regulations, regulations—don't you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk like a handbook?"
"I don't," Yerin said smoothly. "Someone has to uphold standards."
Their eyes locked—one steady and piercing, the other blazing with defiance. The air between them tightened, like a stretched wire ready to snap.
Ren clicked her tongue and leaned closer, invading Yerin's personal space. "You know, Shimiki Yerin," she said, voice low and mocking, "just because you're student council president doesn't mean you own this school."
Yerin did not step back. Instead, she met Ren's glare head-on, her voice even but edged with authority. "And just because you disregard rules doesn't mean they don't apply to you, Ryohan Ren."
Ren's eyes widened slightly—just for a fraction of a second—before narrowing again. "Hah. Figures you'd know my name."
"Knowing the students of this school is part of my responsibility," Yerin replied. "Especially those who cause repeated disturbances."
"Wow," Ren said flatly. "I feel so honored."
Students began to peek out from nearby classrooms, drawn by the tension. Whispers rippled through the hallway.
Miss Perfect and the Problem Child…
Yerin noticed the growing audience and sighed quietly. She disliked scenes. Still, her gaze softened—just barely—as she looked back at Ren. "You're not injured, are you?"
The question caught Ren off guard.
"What?" she snapped.
"You collided with me at considerable speed," Yerin continued, her tone professional, almost detached. "If you're hurt, you should visit the nurse."
Ren stared at her for a moment, clearly unsure how to respond. Then she barked out a laugh. "You serious right now? Don't pretend you care."
"I don't pretend," Yerin said. "I simply do."
For a brief second, something unreadable flickered across Ren's face—confusion, perhaps. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by her usual arrogant smirk.
"Tch. Whatever," she muttered, turning away. "Next time, get out of my way, Miss Perfect."
Yerin watched her go, eyes thoughtful behind her glasses. "Next time," she said coolly, "try walking instead of running. Or you'll be answering to the disciplinary committee."
Ren paused mid-step and glanced back over her shoulder, a crooked grin tugging at her lips. "I'd like to see you try."
And with that, she disappeared down the stairwell, leaving behind murmurs, scattered tension—and a crack in Yerin's perfectly ordered day.
Yerin exhaled slowly. She adjusted her grip on the papers and continued down the hallway, her steps as composed as ever. Yet, for the first time in a long while, her thoughts strayed from schedules and meetings.
Ryohan Ren, she thought.
Something told her this wouldn't be their last encounter.
And for reasons she didn't yet understand, that realization unsettled her more than it should have.
And so their enemies relationship started.