It was the kind of morning that smelled like rain, but held no clouds.

Eve stood at the gates of Seoul International High School, her fingers nervously clutching the straps of her canvas backpack. Her eyes, a soft chestnut brown, scanned the bustling crowd of students pouring through the iron gates. Everything here felt louder, faster, sharper than her quiet countryside life. The polished black shoes, the laughter that carried arrogance, the indifference etched into every face—it was a different world.

She swallowed.

“Just one year,” she whispered to herself. “One year, then university.”

Eve had transferred mid-semester—something about her father’s new job in the city. But no one really cared about the details. All they’d see was a shy, plainly dressed girl who spoke politely and never raised her voice. She wasn’t flashy. She wasn’t loud. And that made her invisible here.

Or so she thought.

---

Han Jin was late again. Not because he overslept—he never did—but because he liked the silence right before class, the kind that only happened when everyone else was already inside. His motorcycle roared into the schoolyard, turning heads as it always did. The headmaster had already warned him three times: “No vehicles inside school grounds, Han Jin.”

He never listened.

He parked like he owned the place, swinging his leg over the seat with casual arrogance. Girls near the hallway windows giggled. Boys either hated or admired him—sometimes both. His uniform shirt was unbuttoned at the top, tie loose, blazer slung over one shoulder. A single silver chain peeked out from under his collar. He lit a cigarette just to annoy the guards.

Then he saw her.

She was staring at the school building like it might eat her alive. Small, wide-eyed, with a neat braid over one shoulder and a faded rabbit charm hanging from her backpack zipper. She didn’t belong here—and that intrigued him.

Han Jin exhaled smoke, tilted his head, and smirked.

“Lost, rabbit?”

Eve turned, startled. She blinked at the tall boy with black hair that kissed the edge of his eyes and a devil-may-care smile curling on his lips.

“Um... I’m not a rabbit,” she said quietly.

He chuckled.

“Sure you are. Look at you.”

Eve’s cheeks flushed. She wasn’t used to being teased—especially not by boys like him.

“I’m Eve,” she said, trying to summon some courage. “It’s my first day.”

He studied her. The way she looked down when she spoke. The way she clutched her bag like a lifeline.

“Han Jin,” he said, without offering a handshake. “Don’t get in my way, Eve.”

Then he flicked the cigarette onto the ground, stepped on it, and walked past her into the building—shoulders straight, confidence untouchable.

Eve stood there, heart thudding, unsure whether she had just met her first enemy................... or something far more dangerous.

continue.....

See you in next episode byy byyy ...

heeeee

Eve’s classroom smelled faintly of chalk and instant noodles. The seats were arranged in perfect rows, and the chatter among students never seemed to stop. Whispers followed her as she stepped inside—some curious, some dismissive, all of them unsettling.

“Is she the transfer?”

“She looks like a teacher’s pet.”

“Why does she wear her skirt that long?”

Eve kept her gaze low and moved to the only empty seat near the window. It was always the quietest spot—far from the chaos, close to the sky. She placed her bag down, carefully smoothing her skirt as she sat. She didn’t mind being unnoticed. It was safer that way.

Then, the classroom door swung open with a bang.

Han Jin strolled in, not even trying to be on time. His blazer was still off. His shoes made a lazy thud as he walked down the aisle, ignoring the teacher's narrowed eyes. Girls straightened their posture. Some boys rolled their eyes. He didn’t care.

He walked straight toward the back—toward her.

Eve froze.

No way.

He dropped into the seat right behind her, stretched out his legs like he owned the space. She could feel the weight of his stare on the back of her neck.

Of all the empty desks…

“Rabbit,” he said, low enough for only her to hear. “Try not to be so tense. You’ll give yourself a neck spasm.”

She turned slightly, her eyes wide. “Can you not call me that?”

Han Jin leaned forward, elbow on the desk. “Why? It suits you.”

“I have a name.”

He smirked. “Yeah, Eve. Like the girl who ate the forbidden fruit, right?”

She turned away, cheeks burning.

Why was he like this?

---

The first class was math. Mr. Kwon droned on about variables, but Eve struggled to focus. She had always liked math—its rules, its logic—but her mind kept drifting backward. To Han Jin. To the way his voice curled around her name. He was unpredictable, and that scared her.

During a break, a girl with fiery red highlights leaned over Eve’s desk.

“Don’t get too cosy with Han Jin,” she said flatly. “He doesn’t do sweet. And he breaks things.”

Eve blinked. “I wasn’t—”

“Whatever.” The girl flipped her hair and walked away, but the warning clung to Eve like cold air.

---

By lunchtime, she found the library and curled up in a corner between bookshelves. It was quiet there. Safe. She read for a while, slowly calming down—until someone dropped a juice box on the table in front of her.

She looked up.

Han Jin.

“Lunch,” he said simply.

“I didn’t ask—”

“You looked like you forgot to eat.”

Eve frowned. “Are you always this… weird?”

He shrugged. “Only when I’m bored.”

She stared at the orange juice, unsure whether to thank him or throw it back.

He sat across from her, resting his chin on one hand, watching her with unreadable eyes.

“You’re different,” he said finally.

“That’s not a compliment, is it?”

He gave her a half-smile. “It’s just true.”

Silence stretched between them, sharp and awkward.

Then, before she could respond, he stood up and left—no explanation, no goodbye.

Eve sat there with the unopened juice box, heart fluttering for reasons she couldn’t name.

She wasn’t sure what Han Jin was doing.

But she had the strange feeling he had just begun something, and neither of them would be able to stop.

This is my first novel, so please be happy to correct my mistakes .

The rain started as a whisper on the windows during third period—a gentle tapping that slowly grew louder, until by the time the final bell rang, the sky had opened up completely.

Eve stood beneath the overhang just outside the school building, clutching the straps of her bag. She stared out at the courtyard where water collected in puddles and shoes splashed through them carelessly. Umbrellas bloomed like flowers around her—bright, colorful, protective. She had none.

She hadn’t expected rain.

Students hurried past in groups, laughing, ducking under shared covers. Some offered her a quick glance of sympathy before moving on, but no one stopped.

Eve didn’t blame them. She wasn’t the kind of girl people stopped for.

She considered making a run for it. Her apartment wasn’t far—just down the hill and across the small park. She’d be soaked by the time she got there, but at least she wouldn’t have to just stand there, pretending she didn’t care.

“Planning to wait until monsoon season?”

The voice cut through the patter of rain.

Eve turned. Han Jin stood a few steps behind her, holding a navy-blue umbrella that looked too old for someone like him—tiny tear on the edge, the metal slightly bent. Water clung to the ends of his hair. His shirt collar was damp, and his blazer was nowhere to be seen.

“You again,” she muttered.

“Charming, as always.” He tilted the umbrella just slightly toward her. “Come on.”

She blinked. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not. You look like a soggy rabbit.”

“There it is again,” she sighed. “That nickname.”

“You keep reacting to it. That’s why it sticks.”

She stared at him for a second, then stepped under the umbrella. Just enough to avoid the rain. Not enough to be close.

They walked together in a silence that wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but not quite easy either. Eve focused on her steps, on the sound of water hitting the umbrella above them. She was careful not to brush his shoulder. He didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he did and didn’t care.

After a moment, he asked, “You live near the market, right?”

She turned to him, surprised. “How do you know that?”

“You pass the basketball courts every morning. I sit on the bleachers sometimes. You always look like you’re fighting the wind.”

“I—I didn’t know you watched.”

He shrugged. “You walk like you have somewhere important to be. That’s rare.”

Eve didn’t know how to respond to that.

When they reached the edge of the street where their paths split, he stopped.

“Well, go,” he said.

She looked up at him. “Why are you being... like this?”

“Like what?”

“Nice. Helpful. You’re not supposed to be.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not nice, Rabbit. I’m just bored.”

He handed her the umbrella.

She blinked. “Wait, what—”

“You’ll probably forget it tomorrow. That’ll give me an excuse to talk to you again.”

And then, just like that, he turned and walked off into the rain.

Eve stood there holding the umbrella, speechless. It still carried the faint scent of him—warm, clean, something like mint and trouble.

Her heart thudded.

She didn’t know what Han Jin was doing. But she had the strange feeling that whatever this was… had just begun.