The Matchmaker.

01

Lisa

It's always gratifying to walk through the halls of Seoul High and see the happy couples everywhere: in broom closets, dotting the hallways, staring soulfully into each other's eyes. You really can't escape them. Especially now, in the beginning of the year, where everyone's still in the rosy haze leftover from glorious summers.

All that is a tribute to my skill, a talent that allows 90 of my couples to end up happy, or at least in an amicable break-up. And the few times they do break up, it's always because they request someone completely wrong for them. Yeah, I take requests. Not often, because people don't often tell the Matchmaker how to do their job. The people trust the Matchmaker's judgment more then their own, which is good, because I usually know what they want better then they do. And it shows because the people I pair them up with are much better suited than those they would have chosen for themselves.

"You."

I paid no attention to the voice as I bent down to open my locker.

"Book girl."

The voice was deep and masculine, refined but icy cold. I forced myself not to respond to the commanding tone and continued placing books in my locker.

"Are you ignoring me?" his incredulity was touched with more than a hint of rage, and I had to contain my laughter. Poor kid, thwarted by a nerd. I rose lazily to face him.

"I'm sorry," I drawled as I stood, "I wasn't aware you were speaking to me."

My eyes travelled up a well-built body clothed in designer labels, much taller than my petite frame, before stopping to meet inscrutable hazel brown eyes. The words nearly stuck in my throat as I saw who I was addressing. If it had been a 19th-century novel, I would have fainted.

"I addressed you quite clearly," Jeon Jungkook stated. If anyone else, I would have labelled his remark a retort, but he didn't stoop to those levels. Everyone knew that. Retorts implied he had done something to defend, and everyone knew that simply wasn't possible. Not for Jeon Jungkook, Ice Prince, the richest kid in school, the one nobody stood up to. When he said jump, everyone else fought for the chance to ask how high.

"No, you addressed someone called 'book girl'. As far as I know, that isn't my name or a title bestowed on me."

Everyone except me.

"Then you aren't well informed," he scoffed, "Where is locker 420?"

At that, my hidden smirk nearly broke its bindings. Only intense self-control and the fact that it was Jeon Jungkook I was speaking to hold it in. With it being Jungkook, the smirk was incapable of appearing on my face. People say he's intimidating, and if anything, I think that's an understatement. I simply refuse to dance to his piping. Or that's what I had always resolved to do in the unforeseeable case that he would speak to me. I was pleased with myself that I had kept my oath.

"You have business with the matchmaker?" I asked, making my eyes as innocent as possible while concealing my laughter. This would be a fun assignment. Jeon Jungkook!

"Of a sort," he scowled. On anyone else, that expression would have looked hideous. On him, it worked. "Now, Lalisa Manoban, where is the damn locker?"

Cowed, at last, I wordlessly gestured to the locker directly above my own. I couldn't quite see what he slipped in, as his long, lanky body obscured my sight, but something went into the Matchmaker's locker. He spun and scowled at me once more, then stalked away without even a nod of thanks.

I tried to be mad about it, I did. I attempted to work myself into a rage, speculating on all the other things he could have done to show his thanks without compromising his dignity. But no matter how hard I tried, there was only one refrain in my mind, one that cancelled out al the anger.

'He knows who I am!' I thought, trying not to sound giddy even to myself, 'He knew my name!'