The morning was wrapped in biting cold.
When Elena got up for school, her whole body was shivering. She pulled on her coat and called out,
> "Mom! I'm getting late for school — please bring my breakfast quickly!"
Her nose had turned red, and her cheeks were pink from the cold.
Her silky golden hair danced lightly in the winter breeze as she shouted again, louder this time —
> "Moooom!"
> "Coming, coming!"
Her mother's gentle voice echoed from the kitchen as she carried a tray of breakfast to the table.
She was a simple and graceful woman, but always patient.
"You never wake up on time, and then you shout at me for being late! Try waking up early and having breakfast properly at least once."
Elena didn't answer; she just sat down and started eating in a hurry.
Outside, the school van was already honking impatiently.
She quickly grabbed her sandwich, threw her bag over her shoulder, and rushed toward the door.
> "At least finish your breakfast sitting down!" her mother called after her.
Elena stopped, ran back a few steps, kissed her mom on the cheek, and said with a playful smile,
> "I'll wake up early from tomorrow, I promise!"
Then she ran off again, her laughter echoing in the chilly air.
Her mother stood there, watching her go, shaking her head with a soft smile.
> "She says that every day… I wonder what'll become of this girl," she murmured to herself.
In the van, her friend complained,
> "Ugh, Elena! You always eat your sandwich on the way. Because of you, we're late every single day! Can't you come on time for once?"
Elena just laughed, biting into her sandwich as the van pulled away through the cold morning mist.
The classroom was bathed in soft morning light, the kind that filtered gently through the windows, and the students sat at their desks, absorbed in their notebooks. Then the teacher spoke, her voice calm but carrying a subtle authority:
"Ethan, you may sit here."
Ethan's gaze swept across the room—calm yet sharp, quietly assessing everything. He was tall, with deep black hair that fell lightly over his forehead, framing his face almost perfectly. One shoulder bore a bag slung casually, while his other hand rested in his pocket, fingers twitching slightly as if every small movement exuded quiet confidence and awareness.
The class turned their eyes toward him, some curious, some surprised. Ethan adjusted his gaze slightly and gave a small, composed smile—not too much, not too little—as though he were silently observing everything while harboring some hidden depth.
The teacher introduced him: "Class, this is Ethan. He's new to our school."
A few students murmured softly, others tried to sneak glances from behind their notebooks. Yet there was an unmistakable intensity in Ethan's eyes, a calm command that naturally drew attention—he seemed to process everything silently, noting every detail without making a sound.
As he shifted his bag and settled into his seat, the atmosphere in the classroom subtly changed. A strange balance of calm and anticipation spread through the room. The students watched his every movement, sensing that he was not just another boy in the room but someone whose presence quietly influenced the space around him.
For Ethan, this new school wasn't just a place to learn—it was a stage. Every step he took carried mystery, elegance, and poise, a quiet promise that there was more to him than met the eye, something that would gradually unfold with time.
In the classroom, the teacher pointed to an empty seat near the window.
> "Ethan, you can sit there — that seat's empty."
Elena immediately looked up.
> "Ma'am! That's my seat!"
The teacher raised an eyebrow.
> "Do you sit there every day?"
> "Yes, ma'am. I like that spot… the light there is perfect."
Ethan gave a faint smile.
> "I only need a seat, not the light."
Elena's face flushed slightly.
> "You're new here, right? And already showing attitude? That's my seat!"
Ethan shrugged calmly.
> "So what do you want me to do? You can sit somewhere else."
The class tried to hold back their laughter.
Elena shot him a sharp glare, grabbed her bag, and muttered,
> "Fine! Sit there like you own the place, Your Highness."
Ethan didn't reply. He just looked at her quietly — as if saying, "Girls like you are better kept at a distance."
Their very first day had turned into a silent war…
Neither of them knew that this was how their story would begin —
and that one day, the same war would turn into something they could no longer fight.
The break bell rang, filling the classroom and corridor with noise. Ethan calmly picked up his bag and stepped out of the classroom, stretching slightly, taking in the cold air.
Elena glanced at her friend, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.
> "Perfect timing… let's prank him!"
Her friend chuckled,
> "Yeah, let's put glue on his seat. Make sure no one sees."
Silently, both of them moved toward Ethan's seat. Elena quickly scanned the classroom and then applied a thin layer of glue onto the chair.
When Ethan returned, the classroom seemed normal, but the soft hum of students settling in was in the air. The teacher spoke softly,
> "Students, please settle down. Class is about to begin."
Ethan walked back to his usual calm rhythm and approached his seat quietly. As he started to sit down, he felt a subtle stickiness. His eyes flashed briefly, jawline tensing, muscles stiffening for a moment.
Inside, his mind was calm but alert:
"Something's off… there's something on the seat. Don't show it. Stay calm, observe, control."
A student whispered to another,
> "Omg! Looks like Ethan felt something!"
Elena peeked over at her friend, whispering softly,
> "See? So calm… still under control. Perfect!"
The teacher noticed and gently asked,
> "Ethan, is everything okay?"
Ethan gave a faint, composed smile,
> "Yes, ma'am. Everything's fine,"
and quietly handled the situation, maintaining full control.
Another student whispered excitedly,
> "Wow… he didn't even react. So composed!"
Elena whispered with a small grin,
> "This is the fun part of the challenge."
And there, between the classroom and corridor, the small prank became another spark in their silent war—a clash of mischievous energy and controlled intensity, naturally establishing the tension and dynamic between the two characters.
A soft hush had settled over the classroom. Students were absorbed in their notebooks, yet every now and then, discreet glances flicked toward the subtle tension between Ethan and Elena.
Ethan worked methodically with his pen, but his eyes kept darting toward Elena. Each time he looked, there was a blend of restrained anger and silent irritation in his gaze, as if silently demanding, "How can this girl be so mischievous?"
Elena, fully aware of the attention, responded with her usual playful energy. A soft, knowing smile curved her lips, and her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. In her mind, she thought, "Let's see how long he can keep his temper in check."
Whenever Ethan's gaze met hers, Elena would tilt her head slightly and shoot him a cheeky glance, suppressing a soft, amused laugh. Every flicker of his restrained anger only seemed to delight her more. Ethan's composure never wavered, though—his posture rigid, jawline tight, eyes smoldering with silent intensity.
A student whispered under their breath,
> "Wow… he's staring at her the entire time!"
Elena whispered back with a small, playful grin,
> "Shh… he's watching, isn't he? This is so much fun."
The atmosphere in the classroom subtly shifted. Everyone could feel the electric tension—the collision of Ethan's controlled discipline and Elena's playful defiance. It was a silent game, a subtle war, and neither was willing to surrender.
In that small exchange, the boundaries of power and control were already being tested. Ethan's calm restraint and Elena's mischievous confidence created a spark that radiated through the room, leaving a charged anticipation in the air—an invisible thread connecting two forces equally unwilling to yield.
The school bell had barely faded when students scrambled to grab their bags and rush outside. Elena walked toward the parking area, a hint of excitement in her steps. But the moment Ethan appeared, the entire atmosphere shifted instantly.
He wasn't alone. Four tall, imposing bodyguards flanked him, each perfectly alert, disciplined, and moving with silent precision. As they picked up his bag and maneuvered around him, the chaos of the school seemed to pause for a heartbeat—a cinematic stillness that made every student freeze.
Wide-eyed stares swept across the crowd. Some students held their jaws in shock, others simply stared in disbelief:
> "Wait… seriously? Four bodyguards?"
"And that bag… everything under control!"
"What is happening… it's like the school just entered another reality!"
Ethan walked with his usual composed elegance, one hand casually in his pocket, each step measured, confident, and purposeful. His calm intensity radiated outward, dominating the space without effort, as if the air itself recognized his presence.
Elena watched silently, lips curling into a small, mischievous smile, eyes sparkling with excitement. She could barely look away, thinking to herself: "Wow… everything about him is literally cinematic."
Once Ethan settled into his van, flanked by the four bodyguards and with the driver starting the engine, he subtly flicked his eyes toward Elena. With a smooth, effortless gesture, he pushed his glasses up over his nose, a casual motion that somehow radiated controlled awareness and silent power.
Elena felt a sudden heat rush through her—a mix of admiration and intimidation. In that instant, her thoughts screamed: "I… I feel so small, so ordinary next to him."
Her lips curved into a nervous, uneasy smile. Her hands instinctively gripped her bag as if to ground herself. Every element around her—the van's silent hum, the stoic bodyguards, Ethan's effortless charm—overwhelmed her senses.
Ethan maintained his gaze on her for a moment, a subtle, controlled teasing smile playing on his lips, as if silently saying: "Notice. Understand. This is just the beginning."
As the van slowly pulled away, the silent tension and unspoken intrigue between them thickened. The energy was palpable—subtle, electric, and undeniable. Both were acutely aware that this connection was far from ordinary, and the events of this day at school would remain unforgettable for them both
End of chapter.