PROFESSOR, PERMISSION TO SIN?

Some people study for grades.
Some people study for glory.
And some people study you.

-

The university gates are older than him, older than most cities, and Joong thinks they look like something out of a dream. Gold-lettered. Grand. Intimidating.

He's thirty minutes early, wearing the sunshine-yellow sweater his sister insisted was his "lucky charm" for first impressions. There's a little sweat under his collar. A lot of hope clinging to his chest. New job. New campus. A chance to do something that matters.

He rehearses his introduction under his breath as he walks through the corridor.

"Good morning, I'm Professor Joong-no, too stiff-Hi, I'm Joong, and I'll be your-ugh, too casual-"

His thoughts are interrupted by the sight of students walking past, bright-eyed, laughing, full of potential. And then one student-him.

A flash of crisp uniform. Black hair that shines too clean under the light. A stride too precise to be accidental. He's talking to someone, nodding politely, smiling just enough to seem approachable-but there's a wall behind that face. A polished, perfect wall.

Joong doesn't know his name yet.

Not officially.

But he knows this:
That boy is the kind people write scholarship recommendations for before they even graduate. The kind that carries the university's reputation on his shoulders and makes it look like silk.

"That's Dunk," someone whispers beside him.
"Student Council President. Top of the class. Literally the best we have."