The first day I walked into my new school felt like stepping into fire.
Not the kind that burns your skin—
the kind that crawls under it. Slow. Uncomfortable. Watching.
I came in during break time.
Worst timing possible.
The moment I stepped through the gate, it was like the entire world paused just to look at me. Conversations slowed. Heads turned. Eyes followed.
Too many eyes.
I hated attention.
Always had.
But attention had never really hated me.
I'd been told I was pretty more times than I could count. At my former school, it was the same thing—whispers, stares, unnecessary curiosity. It was never something I asked for. Never something I wanted.
And now it had followed me here.
Perfect.
I tightened my grip on my bag and kept my head slightly down, pretending not to notice the way people watched me like I was something new. Something to talk about.
Maybe I was.
New girl. New face. New target.
The night before, I had made a promise to my parents.
I'll make you proud.
Not with friends.
Not with popularity.
Not with nonsense.
With results.
I didn't come here to fit in.
I came here to win.
I had always been smart. Ever since I was little, it was the only thing I truly relied on. Books made sense. People didn't.
People were complicated. Unpredictable.
Books weren't.
"Your class is this way," the girl beside me said, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I glanced at her briefly. She had introduced herself earlier, but I had already forgotten her name. Not because I didn't care—my mind was just too crowded.
"Thank you," I murmured.
She smiled, trying to be friendly, but I could already feel it—the distance I naturally placed between myself and others.
It wasn't intentional.
It was just… me.
We reached the classroom, and I stepped inside.
A few students were already there, scattered around in groups, talking, laughing, living like this place belonged to them.
The moment I entered, the noise dipped.
Again.
Eyes.
Always eyes.
I walked to an empty seat and sat down quietly, placing my bag on the desk like I had done a thousand times before in different classrooms, different schools, different versions of the same moment.
A few students approached me.
"Hi."
"Are you new?"
"What's your name?"
I gave small answers. Nods. Short replies. A handshake here and there.
Nothing more.
I wasn't rude—I just didn't know how to be… open.
After a while, they drifted away, probably realizing I wasn't the kind of girl they could easily talk to.
Good.
That made things easier.
I pulled out my books, focusing on arranging them neatly, using the simple act to calm my nerves.
Because beneath all that "quiet girl" composure—
I was nervous.
Very nervous.
Break ended soon after.
Students began flooding back into the class, louder now, fuller, more chaotic. The energy shifted instantly, and I felt it press against me like weight.
Too many new faces.
Too many unfamiliar voices.
Too much.
I kept my head down, pretending to read, even though I wasn't seeing a single word on the page.
Why are they still looking?
The question kept repeating in my mind.
Then the teacher walked in.
Relief.
At least something normal.
He started teaching almost immediately, his voice steady, controlled. I tried to focus, to latch onto something familiar—education, structure, something I understood.
Then his voice stopped.
I felt it before I saw it.
His attention.
"Ah… we have a new student."
My heart dropped.
Slowly, I looked up.
He was already walking toward me.
"Introduce yourself," he said gently.
Every eye in the class turned to me again.
My chest tightened.
I stood up.
"My name is…" My voice came out softer than I expected. "…Seraphina."
A pause.
"My name is Seraphina Vale."
Silence.
Then a few murmurs.
I sat back down quickly, my fingers tightening around my pen.
The teacher nodded and continued the lesson like nothing happened.
But for me, everything still felt… off.
Like something was waiting.
Something I couldn't see yet.
It started as whispers.
Soft. Careless. Curious.
From the girls sitting not too far from me.
"Did you hear what he did last week?"
"I swear, that guy almost killed him."
"He was in the hospital for days."
A small laugh.
"But he's so fine though…"
Another voice:
"Rich too."
"And nobody can touch him."
I frowned slightly, my focus drifting from the lesson to their conversation.
Who are they talking about?
"…Kael."
The name barely reached me.
"…Draven."
That one stayed.
Kael Draven.
The way they said it—like it meant something. Like it carried weight.
"He's dangerous," one of them said.
"But I don't mind," another replied with a giggle.
I felt something twist inside me.
Disgust.
How could someone be described as violent… and still admired?
What kind of person is that?
I didn't understand it.
Didn't want to.
I hope I never meet him.
That was the exact thought that crossed my mind.
And maybe…
That was my first mistake.
The classroom door slammed open.
The sound was so loud it cut through everything—the teacher's voice, the whispers, even my thoughts.
Everyone froze.
Except him.
He walked in like he owned the place.
No permission. No hesitation.
Just presence.
Heavy. Dominating. Dangerous.
I didn't even realize I was staring until it was too late.
Tall.
Broad shoulders.
Sharp eyes that didn't just look—they searched.
And there was something else.
Something darker.
The kind of energy that makes your body react before your mind understands why.
This was him.
Kael Draven.
No introduction needed.
The fear in the room said everything.
He ignored the teacher completely, his gaze scanning the class until it landed on someone behind me.
A boy.
Wrong place. Wrong time.
Kael walked straight to him.
Slow.
Intentional.
Terrifying.
"What did you say?" his voice was low—but it carried.
The boy stuttered. Shook. Tried to speak.
Didn't succeed.
Kael grabbed him.
And in one quick motion—
slammed him against the wall.
A gasp filled the room.
My heart stopped.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Not even the teacher.
I couldn't understand it.
Why is nobody stopping him?
The boy struggled, clearly in pain, but Kael didn't care. He leaned closer, saying something I couldn't hear, his grip tightening.
This wasn't anger.
This was control.
Pure. Calculated. Control.
My body felt frozen, but my eyes—
My eyes wouldn't look away.
Then a voice cut through the tension.
"Kael… stop."
A girl.
She walked in like she belonged beside him. Like she understood him.
Like she wasn't afraid.
She touched him.
Not gently. Not carefully.
Confidently.
Like she knew exactly what she was doing.
She leaned close to his ear, whispering something only he could hear.
And just like that—
He let go.
The boy collapsed, gasping for air.
Kael didn't even look back.
He just walked out.
The girl followed him.
And the moment they were gone—
The room exhaled.
Noise returned. Whispering. Panic. Gossip.
Like nothing had happened.
Like this was normal.
I sat there, still frozen, my heart pounding against my chest.
So that was him.
Kael Draven.
The boy everyone feared.
The boy everyone wanted.
The boy I had just promised myself I would never get involved with.
But as I stared at the door he had walked out of…
I felt something
I didn't expect.
Not fear.
Not completely.
Something else.
Something quieter.
More dangerous.
Curiosity .
And deep down…
I didn't know it yet.
But that moment—
Was the beginning of everything