The storm didn't wait for sunrise.
By 7:03 AM, Haneul Academy's private student forum had exploded.
The post had gone viral.
"You think she belongs beside Jin Seo-Won? Let's not forget where she came from."
The photo beneath was blurry—snapped in low light, grainy, but unmistakable.
Kang Ha-Rin.
Arguing in front of a run-down convenience store.
A backpack ripped at the seam.
A woman—her mother—throwing something into the trash.
Plastic bags. Cheap groceries. Tears.
There was no caption.
No lie.
Just reality.
And that was enough.
—
By the time Ha-Rin walked through the gates, the academy was already murmuring like a haunted hive.
"Is that really her mom?"
"She's probably lying about the scholarship too."
"Trash belongs with trash."
She didn't run.
She didn't cry.
But every step felt like glass underfoot.
Her blazer felt heavier than usual. The gold tag—DROP OF J.S.W.—burned like a brand against her heart.
She reached her locker, opened it slowly, and froze.
Inside, someone had taped a crumpled newspaper article from two years ago.
"Single Mother Arrested for Shoplifting in Gangnam."
No photo. No name.
But Ha-Rin knew it was meant for her.
A whisper behind her shoulder curled around her spine.
"She'll be gone by next week."
Ha-Rin shut her locker.
Hard.
—
She made it to homeroom before her vision blurred.
Her seat was still there—but a pink envelope sat on top.
No note.
No signature.
Inside: a pair of black gloves. Cheap. Faded.
A memory flashed.
Her mother placing those gloves in her hand one winter, saying, "If anyone asks, just say they were a gift from your sponsor."
Her legs trembled.
And then—
"Move."
The voice hit like a command.
Seo-Won stood behind her, his hand flat on the desk, his presence loud enough to silence the entire room.
No smirk. No tie. No casual lean.
Just rage.
"I said move," he repeated—this time to the girl sitting next to Ha-Rin, who scrambled out of the chair.
He sat beside Ha-Rin without asking.
Without speaking.
But he reached into his jacket pocket—and pulled out a brand-new leather glove box.
Hermès. Real. Price-tagged.
He placed it on her desk like an offering.
Then looked at her, eyes unreadable.
"I don't care where you come from," he said. "I care where you stand. And you're standing with me."
Ha-Rin blinked hard, forcing back the burn in her throat.
Someone in the back whispered, "Of course he still wants her."
And then—Seo-Won stood.
Faced the class.
And said, loud enough for the whole floor to hear:
"Anyone who posts her photo again will be expelled. Anyone who touches her gets me."
No one moved.
He turned back to her, leaned down—and whispered,
"Let me fight this one."
She couldn't speak.
She just nodded.
—
He didn't go to class that day.
Neither did she.
Because he took her somewhere else.
—
It wasn't until the elevator stopped on the top floor of the east wing—where no students were allowed—that she finally asked, "Where are we going?"
"Where I go when I want to disappear."
He pushed open the doors to a hidden lounge—a luxury faculty room no one used. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A fireplace. A golden couch.
She stared.
"You have access to this?"
He shrugged. "I built the school's donation wing."
He tossed his blazer on the couch and walked to the bar cabinet, pulling out two glass bottles—sparkling water and a sealed bottle of imported juice.
"No cameras. No gossip. Just us."
She sank into the couch slowly, hands shaking.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Don't be."
"My mother didn't mean to—"
"I don't care."
"She's not a bad person."
He poured two glasses and sat beside her. "I care about you. And what they tried to do... was destroy you."
"They tried to remind me I don't belong here."
He looked at her, eyes dangerous.
"Then we remind them that I decide who belongs."
She looked down. "Why are you doing this?"
He leaned closer. "Because every time someone tries to hurt you, I want to ruin them."
Her breath caught.
"You said you were dangerous," she whispered.
"I am."
"You said you ruin things."
"I do."
"Then what happens when it's me?"
He leaned in.
So close she could feel his heartbeat.
"I'll ruin you," he whispered. "And I'll keep you."
Her lips parted—but no sound came out.
He reached for her face, fingertips brushing her lips.
His voice dropped even lower.
"Do you want me to stop?"
She didn't answer.
So he didn't stop.
His lips met hers—slow, then rougher, then desperate.
Her hands slid up his shirt. His grip tightened around her waist. Their bodies locked into rhythm, tangled between need and hesitation.
He pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling him.
Her breath came in short bursts, and his mouth found the curve of her neck.
Every inch of her burned.
"Seo-Won..." she gasped.
His hands paused at her waist. "Say stop."
She didn't.
Instead, she whispered, "Don't you dare."
And he didn't.
They kissed like they were making a vow in silence.
Like the world didn't matter.
Like scars and history and pain were all just foreplay for something deeper.
When they finally slowed, his forehead pressed to hers, she whispered, "What now?"
He smiled.
Dark. Tender. Wicked.
"Now we burn the school down."
—
Meanwhile, across campus, Na-Gyeom paced in front of the digital bulletin board, fuming.
"It didn't work?" she asked the girl beside her.
"She went to class with him. He sat next to her. Defended her."
Na-Gyeom's eyes narrowed.
"She should've been broken by now."
"You underestimated her."
"I don't make the same mistake twice," she hissed.
She pulled out her phone and tapped open a new thread.
"Let's talk about how far Drops go for protection..."
She attached a blurred photo from weeks ago.
Ha-Rin. Carrying Seo-Won's bag. Kneeling beside his chair. Whispering something at his feet.
And hit "POST."
—
But by the time she checked the forum again, her post was gone.
Deleted.
Flagged.
Blocked.
And a new comment was pinned to the top of the thread:
"Any content defaming Drop Kang Ha-Rin will be investigated and reported under the Anti-Harassment Clause activated by Student Council. —J.S.W."
Na-Gyeom's jaw dropped.
He rewrote the rules.
Again.
And this time, she wasn't ready.
—
That night, Ha-Rin sat at her desk, staring at the new gloves Seo-Won gave her.
She hadn't told him yet.
That the photo of her mother...
Was taken the night before she left for Haneul Academy.
That her mother had stolen to buy her a uniform.
That she was arrested.
That Ha-Rin never saw her again.
But she would.
Soon.
Because Seo-Won deserved to know the full truth.
Even if he decided she wasn't worth the trouble.
Even if he left.
But until then—
She wore the gloves.
And for once, they actually fit.
—
End of Chapter 9.
Author's Note:
Ha-Rin walked through fire this chapter. And Seo-Won? He didn't just stand by her side—he rewrote the rules. 🖤
What did you feel during that kiss? And is Seo-Won really her safe place... or her biggest risk?
Comment below:
🔥 Was this chapter everything you waited for?
💔 Or do you think Tae-Hwan could've handled this better?
Either way, we're not slowing down. The drama, the revenge, and the secrets?
They're just getting started.
— XO AKByeol
© 2025 AKByeol. All rights reserved.