The first rain of September fell like soft whispers from a gray-purple sky, casting Seoul University in a dreamy, melancholy haze. Damp leaves clung to the stone paths as students shuffled across campus, shielding themselves with umbrellas and huddled hoods. The towering gothic buildings, clothed in creeping ivy, loomed in silence. It felt like the opening scene of a film—moody, poetic, and strangely electric.
Y/N stepped off the campus shuttle, boots clicking on the wet pavement, a faint trail of fog forming from her lips in the early morning chill. She wore a lavender cardigan layered over a simple white blouse, her jeans slightly frayed at the bottom. Her umbrella was transparent, allowing her to see the sky above—clouds swirling like secrets waiting to be revealed.
It was her first day as a literature major, and despite the weather and her soaked socks, something about the air felt promising. She had no idea that promise would come wrapped in danger.
Across the courtyard, a black Maserati rolled to a silent stop by the curb—a stark contrast to the students' modest bikes and rain-drenched sneakers. The tinted window slid down an inch, revealing sharp eyes framed by raven-black hair.
Taehyung Kim.
His jaw was defined, his cheekbones high, lips set in a stoic line. A single silver earring glinted against his pale skin as he leaned forward slightly, watching the crowd. His driver said something, but Taehyung didn’t respond. He wasn’t listening. His focus was fixed—on her.
She didn’t notice him.
She never looked in his direction. Never paused or faltered. She simply walked—smiling faintly to herself as if lost in a private world of poetry and dreams.
Something about that smile rattled him.
Taehyung didn’t believe in fate. He believed in power, control, and silence. But watching her, something cracked through his carefully constructed world of dominance and rules. For a moment, he forgot the blood on his hands, the empire he inherited, and the men who waited in shadows for his command.
She was real. Untouched. Light in a world that had taught him only darkness.
Y/N ducked into the humanities building, unaware that she had just walked into the center of a storm she hadn’t asked for.
Inside the lecture hall, the scent of old wood and rain mingled. Rows of desks stretched before her as she chose a seat near the window, opening her notebook and brushing wet strands of hair from her cheek.
“Is this seat taken?”
A soft voice startled her. She looked up—and there he was.
Taehyung stood tall in a charcoal coat, his black sweater clinging to a lean frame, his eyes unreadable. Something in his voice held weight—not arrogance, not shyness, but something… heavier. Like a man unused to asking, but doing it anyway.
Y/N blinked, then shook her head. “No. Go ahead.”
He sat beside her.
Their shoulders weren’t touching, but the space between them crackled with tension she couldn’t quite explain. She felt it. He knew she did.
She didn’t know his name. Didn’t know that the man beside her was heir to one of South Korea’s most dangerous underground families. Didn’t know that this encounter would be the last normal moment of her life.
Taehyung didn’t speak again. He didn’t need to. He had seen her now. Heard her voice. Sat beside her. That was enough.
For today.
He stared out the window, watching the rain roll down the glass in crooked lines.
And he smiled.
“She doesn’t know me yet,” he thought. “But she will.”