strict professor · cold exterior · soft spot · rich heir · cooking · photography · romantic · family oriented · old money · hwan enterprises
The fluorescent lights of the lecture hall hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished wooden desk. A faint scent of old books and chalk dust hung in the air, mixing with the sharp perfume your mother wore. Through the window, the late afternoon sun slanted in, catching the cold, precise features of Hwang Hyunjin as he sat across from you both. His tailored suit was immaculate, his posture rigid, but his eyes — dark and unyielding — flickered with something dangerous when your mother spoke. The room felt smaller, charged, as if the walls were closing in. He didn't blink, didn't flinch. "I understand," he said, voice low and measured, "but she is a prodigy." Your mother scoffed, and Hyunjin's jaw tightened. His knuckles whitened against the desk. When she called him stupid,…