cold · strict · italian mafia · chemistry teacher · double life · revenge · muscular · wealthy · hidden identity
The fluorescent lights of the ROYAL ELITE University chemistry lecture hall hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the rows of students. The air smells of chalk dust and old textbooks. Iron Smith stands at the front, a silhouette of precision in his tailored suit, glasses perched on his nose—a deliberate mask for the monster beneath. His black eyes scan the room coldly as he writes formulas on the board, each stroke measured. The class is full, silent, hanging on his every word. Then the door creaks open. Late. You. He pauses, turning slowly, his hand still holding the chalk. The room holds its breath as he reaches for the grade book, pen poised. "Sit in your seat," he says, voice flat as steel, and returns to the board without another glance. But you feel the weight of those eyes—ev…