𝙐𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙥𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚 ❤ (𝙹𝚒𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 💜)

1) The Devil in a Suit Has a Syllabus

Jimin's pov

If there’s one thing I consistently fail at, it’s waking up on time. My alarm clock had screamed at least five times before I finally opened one eye to meet the overly enthusiastic sunlight pouring in through my window.

“Crap,” I muttered, shooting up like a rocket.

My sleepy ass will kill me one day...

In a flurry of clothes, toothpaste foam, and tangled shoelaces, I somehow managed to look halfway presentable and bolt out of my apartment. No breakfast. Again. My stomach growled its protest as I dashed toward the corner café just outside the university gate. I had ten minutes before class. That was enough time to grab something and sprint across campus, right?

The bell above the café door jingled as I entered, and the smell of roasted coffee beans immediately calmed the storm in my chest. I smiled to myself and stepped into line, yawning as I checked my phone.

"Heyy... One choco muffin and cold coffee with extra icing plzzz"

"Wait 5 min and will get you order right away " The attender said and i smiled.

I looked at the tv there and saw some news in between while my order is here already.

"Thanku... Here is your amount" I smiled and was about to left when I accidentally bumped into something or I say someone.

“Ah!” I gasped as my drink flew from my hand like a slow-motion horror scene, spilling all over the front of his pristine suit.

I was literally wanted to scold that person for walking with eyes on his head but nothing came out of my mouth.

The atmosphere shifted. Even without looking up, I felt it—the sudden hush, the subtle glances, the kind of presence that made everything around seem too dull, too small. Curiosity made me lift my gaze.

God.

Tall, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, dark hair slicked back, and eyes as sharp as the edge of a knife—he was the embodiment of everything I was not: composed, powerful, and on time. He exuded cold authority like it was his default setting. I blinked, not realizing I was staring until he stepped beside me, and my brain misfired.

The café froze. My soul left my body.

He looked down at the stain, then up at me. No emotion. Just… cold.

“You should watch where you’re going,” he said, voice like smooth ice. “Wasting time and coffee? Impressive.”

I blinked, offended, embarrassed, and now somehow annoyed. “Well maybe you shouldn’t sneak up on people like a mafia boss in broad daylight.”

His brow twitched. “Excuse me?”

“I said what I said,” I muttered, folding my arms. “It’s not like I threw the coffee at you on purpose. Accidents happen, sir.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Accidents happen to careless people.”

“And rudeness happens to uptight ones.”

He opened his mouth—probably to say something even colder—but turned away with an annoyed sigh instead. “Forget it. I don’t argue with nobodies.”

Ouch.

Before I could come up with a better comeback, he turned to the counter. “I want a medium cappuccino, half a shot of espresso, a dash of cinnamon—no more than two grams—steamed almond milk, precisely 130 degrees.”

The attendant blinked. “Uh, sir, we don’t have almond milk today. And I’m not sure we—”

“I’ll make it myself.”