She pulled me into the nearest empty classroom and shut the door.
I watched her take a deep breath. Her chest rose and fell. The uniform shirt was doing its absolute best to contain what was happening underneath it and losing badly.
"I'm Cheon Hae-Won. Class 1-A's representative."
I didn't say anything.
Just stared at her.
She had sharp features. High cheekbones. Gray eyes that looked like they'd never laughed at a joke in their entire life. Her light blue hair was pulled back so tight I wondered if it gave her headaches.
She waited for me to respond.
I kept staring.
Why the hell did she drag me into an empty room just to tell me her name?
She sighed. The sound came from somewhere deep in her chest and her shoulders dropped half an inch.
"As the class representative I'll be giving you a tour of the school after classes end today. I'll also show you to your dorm room."
"I stay off campus."
Her eyebrow twitched.
"Oh."
Silence.
She looked at the wall. At the desk. At literally anywhere that wasn't my face.
"And I've decided not to report your comment from earlier to the disciplinary committee."
I grinned.
"What comment?"
"You know what comment."
"Don't want the school knowing you wear panda panties?"
"Stop!"
Her face went red. Not a cute blush. Full tomato mode.
She pointed at me and opened her mouth and I could see her trying to find words that wouldn't make this worse for herself.
I leaned against one of the desks.
She gets angry fast.
Kind of cute.
She started talking again. Something about behavioral standards and representing the school and maintaining decorum as transfer students especially needed to understand the importance of.
I stopped listening.
Every time she moved her hands the tits bounced.
Not a lot. Just enough.
It was hypnotic. Like watching one of those desk toys with the balls that click back and forth except way better.
I wondered what they felt like.
Probably soft.
Definitely heavy.
"Stress balls," I muttered.
She stopped mid sentence.
"Excuse me?"
Shit.
"Nothing."
"You just said something."
"No I didn't."
"Yes you did. I heard you."
"You're hearing things."
Her eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms and that made it worse because now they were pushed up and the valley between them was visible over the top button of her shirt.
I looked away.
At the window. The courtyard outside. Anywhere else.
"So what's Combat 101 about?"
She blinked.
"What?"
"Combat 101. My next class. What do they teach?"
"Basic combat theory and practical application of Essentia in controlled scenarios. Why are you asking me this now?"
"Just curious."
I pushed off the desk and walked toward her.
She uncrossed her arms.
"What are you doing?"
I kept walking.
Virgin Killer is supposed to work better on people with less experience. Let's see if it works on her.
She took a step back.
I took another step forward.
Her back hit the door.
"W-what are you doing?"
I stopped right in front of her. Close enough that I could smell whatever perfume she was wearing.
Her face was still red.
Her breathing picked up.
I could see her pulse in her throat.
Oh this is definitely working.
I looked down at her.
She looked up at me.
Her lips parted slightly.
"I'm trying to get to class. You're blocking the door."
She blinked.
Then her expression shifted from flustered to furious in half a second.
"You—"
She shoved me backward.
Not hard enough to actually move me but I stepped back anyway.
She yanked the door open and walked out without looking at me again.
I followed a few seconds later.
The hallway was still packed. I spotted her blue hair disappearing around a corner and heading in the opposite direction from wherever I needed to go.
That was fun.
===
After the confrontation with Rome, Cheon didn't go to her next class.
She went to the student council office. Inside, a first-year business track student was near tears, explaining how a scheduling error put him in an advanced Essentia class he was bound to fail.
Cheon didn't offer a platitude. She pulled up the school's administrative code on her terminal. "Section four, paragraph B," she said, her voice crisp.
"Add/drop errors are the responsibility of the administration, not the student. They have twenty-four hours to correct it."
The boy stared at her. "But... the registrar said—"
"The registrar is wrong," Cheon said, already typing a formal complaint. "The rules are the rules for a reason. They're all we have to protect us from people who think they're above them."
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, the anger from her encounter with Rome fueling a cold, precise efficiency.
This, she could control.
===
Classroom 2-C was bigger than the last one. About thirty students spread out across tiered seating that faced a large open space at the front. No desks. Just chairs with attached writing surfaces.
A man stood at the front of the room. Tall. Broad shoulders. Shaved head. Scar running down the left side of his face from temple to jaw. He wore tactical pants and a black compression shirt that showed every muscle.
He looked at me.
"You Rome?"
"Yeah."
"Sit anywhere. We start in two minutes."
I climbed the tiers and found an empty seat near the back.
The girl sitting two seats over looked at me. Brown hair. Freckles. Green eyes that were doing a very bad job of pretending they weren't checking me out.
"Hi."
I nodded.
"Hi."
"I'm Emma."
"Rome."
"I know. Everyone's been talking about you."
"Already?"
"New transfer student who is the heir of Angelo Enterprises? Yeah you're the hot topic."
"Right."
My family name. I almost forgot that was part of the package deal here.
Angelo Enterprises. The corporation that apparently dwarfed whatever I'd run in my past life. Billions in assets, hundreds of subsidiaries, and a name that opened every door in Century City.
Emma kept looking at me with those green eyes. Her smile was a little too eager. A little too practiced.
I'd seen that look before. In board rooms. At galas. On women who cared less about who I was and more about what I could give them.
Was she interested in me? Or the Angelo bank account?
Or was it something else entirely? Virgin Killer working its magic on her brain chemistry?
I couldn't tell anymore. The lines were blurring already. Was any of this real?
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Another email from dear old dad, probably reminding me about the ultimatum. Graduate top five or kiss the inheritance goodbye.
The teacher cleared his throat at the front of the room.
"Alright listen up. I'm Instructor Boone. This is Combat 101. If you're here because you thought it was an easy elective you're wrong and you should drop now before I make you regret it."