In a world where wealth whispers power and privilege shields malice, Chester Yoon glides through life like a shadow -charming, careless, and irresistibly dangerous. The son of one of the world's most untouchable dynasties, he embodies the phrase "Yo...
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3rd P.O.V. A MELODIC whistling echoed softly inside the car, filling the air with a playful rhythm. Chester Yoon, a striking teenage male, sat comfortably with his left leg crossed over the other, his foot swinging gently in time with the tune. A small pocketbook rested on his thigh, the pages flipping occasionally as he read, his ears enveloped in the comforting embrace of his earphones.
The driver, a man in his early thirties with fair skin, black eyes, and short brown hair added with a sprinkle of freckles, stole furtive glances at Chester through the rearview mirror. Suppressed nervousness and anxiety danced in his chest as he observed the calm demeanour of the charming young man, who seemed completely absorbed in his world of music and words.
Suddenly, the melodic whistling ceased, leaving a blanket of silence in its wake. After a brief moment, Chester broke the stillness with a teasing tone, "Mister, I suggest you focus on the road. I know I'm a stunner, but I don't intend on seeing myself in a hospital—or worse, in a casket."
The driver nearly jumped in his seat, caught off guard by Chester's sudden remark. He glanced in the rearview mirror once more, meeting the playful smirk that danced across Chester's lips. It was a stark contrast to the tension that had settled in the car.
"Y-Yes, apologies..." the driver stammered, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, forcing his attention back to the road ahead.
Chester leaned back in his seat, the playful energy radiating from him palpable. "Relax, I'm just messing with you. But really, keep your eyes on the road. I'd like to arrive in one piece."
As the driver nodded, the tension in the air slowly dissipated. Chester returned to his book immersed once more in the narrative.
The vehicle finally came to a halt in front of an ordinary-looking school, its gate marked by a simple sign on the entrance wall that read "Jaewon High." Chester ceased his reading and turned his head to take a look at the school he was enrolled in by his father, however, a disgruntled expression painted over Chester's face.
A scoff escaped Chester's lips, his gaze fixed on the uninspiring building as if it had personally offended him. He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
With a swift motion, he zipped his bag open, slammed the book shut, and yanked the wires of his earphones from his ears, shoving them into the bag before closing it with a definitive snap. He hoisted the bag onto his left shoulder, gripping the straps tightly to keep it from slipping off as he exited the vehicle.
Standing in front of the school, Chester took a moment to analyze his new surroundings. It was exactly as his father had described—ordinary and unremarkable. The stark reality of the place clashed with his privileged upbringing, and he felt a wave of irritation build within him. He wanted to protest, to demand enrollment in a more prestigious private school, but his father's words echoed in his mind, halting any rebellious thoughts.
