CHAPTER 1
The golden gates of Seoryun Academy gleamed in the morning sun, their ornate ironwork curling like violin scrolls. A convoy of luxury cars lined the marble-paved entrance, each vehicle gliding in silence, as if even the engines respected the serenity of the school's prestige.
Inside the gates, the campus stretched like a private kingdom. Lush gardens, Olympic-grade courts, and modern glass buildings with classical architecture created a world where tradition met luxury. Students in pristine uniforms strode with practiced confidence, laughter echoing across the stone walkways.
But even among them, Seo Haerim stood apart.
On the third floor of the east wing, in a music hall that could rival a European conservatory, she stood by the window, polishing her violin with a silk cloth. The strings shimmered faintly in the light. Her posture was perfect — straight back, chin held high — elegance carved into every move.
"Haerim" said a voice from the side, "Your dad's company just got another article on the news. Something about a scholarship endowment?"
Without turning, she replied, "Must be on Tuesday" Her voice, honey-smooth with just enough edge, carried the weight of someone used to being watched — and listened to.
Yoo Jiwon, her best friend and confidante since middle school, laughed as she flopped into a velvet chair. "You really are the queen around here. Do you ever get tired of being worshipped?"
"I do," Haerim replied coolly, but it's better than being ignored."
She tied her long hair into a low ponytail and headed toward the archery range. Her bow leaned against the locker like it was waiting for her, and her fingers, trained by both strings and arrows, moved with practiced ease.
One shot.
Ten points.
Again.
Ten points.
Again—
Snap.
A loud swoosh of basketballs echoing across the courtyard broke her concentration.
"Tch." She turned.
From the archery balcony, the school's elite basketball court came into view — and at its center, spinning a ball on one finger with a lazy smirk.
Ryu Seojun New Transfer already Captain of the basketball team. Son of the Ryu family becamefamous for his handsome looks and style.
Girls sat at the bleachers pretending to study but staring openly. Even some faculty glanced as he nailed a one-handed shot from mid-court. He laughed like he knew he was being watched — and enjoyed it.
"Ryu Seojun" Jiwon appeared beside her, squinting.
"Unfortunately," Haerim muttered." Why is he so loud?"
"I heard he plays guitar too. Like, actually good. He's from some elite international school in Switzerland."
Haerim raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I don't care if he plays with angels. he acts like he's the main character of a drama "
Down below, as if he could feel her gaze, Seojun looked up — right at her.
And winked.
Haerim's grip on her bow tightened.
---
The next day.
Classroom 2-A buzzed with whispers. Students sat straighter, adjusting ties and skirts. The teacher barely had to call attention before the door opened and in walked Ryu Seojun, tie loose, confidence dripping off him like cologne.
"I'm Ryu Seojun. Don't worry, I won't bite," he said casually.
Snickers and sighs rippled through the class.
"You'll sit beside Seo Haerim" the teacher instructed.
A beat of silence. Seojun's eyes lit up as he followed the direction — and saw her.
Haerim didn't even look up from her notes. She had already predicted this chaos.
"Yo, Queen," Seojun said, sliding into the seat next to her. "Hope you don't mind sharing the spotlight."
She didn't respond.
"Cold," he chuckled. "But I can work with that."
Haerim finally turned to him, gaze icy. "This isn't the court, Ryu Seojun. Don't dribble your personality all over my desk."
The class went silent.
Seojun grinned wider. "Nice. You've got bite. I like that."
---
Later that week.
The school posted the names of the duo performance participants for the upcoming Founders' Gala — an event attended by CEOs, ministers, and alumni elites.
Violin and Guitar:
Seo Haerim × Ryu Seojun
She stared at the paper, then turned slowly to find him leaning against the wall behind her, arms crossed, smirking.
"Looks like fate, Queen."
She stepped closer. "More like sabotage
"Then let's make it look good."
> End of Chapter 1