Daeun High School loomed ahead of Y/n, its gates a stark threshold between the ordinary life she’d left behind in America and the unknown that awaited her here.

A cold wind whipped at her jacket as she stepped through the gates, the buzz of students filling the air—laughter, shouts, the squeak of sneakers on asphalt.

A few heads turned. Whispers rippled through the crowd like a stone dropped in still water.

A tall boy with dark hair and sharp, feline features stood at the center, a basketball balanced on his fingertip. His jersey hung loose on his lean frame, and his eyes—cold, assessing—had locked onto Y/n.