NEXT DAY - MAXWELL INTERNATIONAL ACADEMY.
The sleek black car pulled up to the wide stone steps of Maxwell International, the morning sun glinting off its polished hood like something out of a luxury ad.
The school building stood tall and intimidating, its glass windows gleaming, flag poles fluttering out front like it belonged in a university brochure.
Inside the car, Keifer was still finishing a half-eaten protein bar and teasing Marvin about getting him late to school.
Kim rolled her eyes affectionately, pushing open the car door. Her hand gripped the strap of her hand slung over one shoulder, her phone already loaded with the school map.
"Good luck, sis," Keifer called from the back seat. "Try not to fall in love with anyone before lunch."
She shot him a look. "Like you're not already planning to flirt with your science teacher."
"No comment."
The door shut.
Kim adjusted her jacket and took a slow breath. The moment she stepped onto the pavement, heads turned.
Her walk wasn't intentional, it just was. Confident, unbothered, a rhythm that made heels sound like power and silence feel like purpose. Her hair caught the light as she moved, and the sunlight traced the edges of her cheekbones, highlighting that natural, "I'm-not-even-trying kind of beauty."
🗣️ "Who's that?"
🗣️ "Wait— I haven't seen her before."
🗣️ "New face."
🗣️ "She's hot."
🗣️ "Damn, is she a transfer?"
🗣️ "Bro, second semester just got interesting."
Students wandered in front of the library windows, leaning off the railings above the quad. Some straightened their posture as she passed. Others just stared like she had stepped out of another reality.
Kim didn't glance at any of them.
She kept her eyes on her screen, her phone in one hand, earbuds in but with the music paused. Her thumb scrolled across the digital campus map as she navigated toward the administrative block, the long gray building near the back of the complex.
Her slides made the softest scuffing sound as she climbed the marble steps, not caring that most of the girls were in blazers and heels. She knew what she looked like, and honestly?
She didn't come to impress anyone.
But she wasn't going to apologize for owning the hallway either. Not when this city already tried to knock the wind out of her on day one.
She paused under the shade of a tall column outside the admin building, double checking the location for the registrar's office.
Then she pushed the glass door open and stepped inside.
The air inside the administrative office was tinged with the faint scent of lemon polish and fresh paper. A large, modern desk stood near the center of the room, clutter-free except for a few neatly stacked folders and a ceramic mug that read, "Educators build futures."
Behind the desk sat a woman in a navy-blue blazer, sharp-featured but kind-eyed, her silver-streaked bun secured so tightly it looked sculpted. She looked up as Kim walked in.
"You must be Kimberly Romero Virelli." she said with a smile, removing her glasses and setting them gently on the desk.
"Yes, ma'am," Kim replied with a polite nod.
"I'm Mrs. Sanders, head of administration. Please, have a seat."
Kim eased into the chair opposite her, backpack still slung over one shoulder.
"I just reviewed your file," Mrs. Sanders continued, opening the folder in front of her. "And I must say, I'm impressed. Not only were you top of your class in Seoul, but you also ranked among the top 2% nationally."
She looked up, genuinely pleased. "We don't get students like you every day."
"Thank you."Kim offered a small smile.
"I also received an email this morning confirming your transfer. We've been expecting a new ace to join mid-semester, and it looks like you're her."
Mrs. Sanders flipped through the file once more, nodding in approval. "Excellent grades, outstanding references, fluent in multiple languages and a remarkable extracurricular record."
Kim tried to keep her expression neutral, but a flicker of pride danced across her features. It felt good to be seen — even if just on paper.
"Welcome to Maxwell International Academy, Kimberly," Mrs. Sanders said warmly. "I think you'll find yourself right at home here."
She reached to the side drawer, pulled out a cream-colored envelope, and slid it across the desk.
"Here's everything you'll need to get started. Your class schedule, locker assignment, student portal access info, and a checklist of materials for each course. You're in the Medicine & Surgery Department. You'll find it in the East Wing, third floor. Room 304 will be your homeroom."
"Thank you, ma'am."Kim stood and reached for the envelope.
"Of course. If you have any questions or need help settling in, feel free to drop by anytime."
Kim gave one final nod and left the office.
---
The third-floor corridor of the Medicine and Surgery wing smelled faintly of disinfectant and new books. Kim adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she approached Room 304, the door already half-open with the low hum of voices drifting out.
She could hear someone speaking inside, firm, authoritative. A professor.
Her fingers curled slightly around the welcome folder, heart beating with the nerves she refused to show. She took a breath, straightened her posture, and stepped inside.
The chatter died instantly. Heads turned.
🗣️ "That's her."
🗣️ "The new girl again?"
🗣️ "No way, she's in our department?"
🗣️ "Damn, she's fine—"
🗣️ "Shhh, Dr. Yoon's still talking."
The classroom was tiered, semicircle seats rising in neat rows, and every single one of them was watching her now. Except one person… whose gaze had already been burning into her long before she even looked his way.
Kim approached the front with calm grace, offering a polite nod toward the man in the white coat, Dr. Yoon, Head of the Department.
"You must be Kimberly." he said, his accent smooth but sharp-edged. "We've been expecting you."
"Thank you, sir," she replied.
She turned, her eyes sweeping across the rows to find the empty spot.
And then, She felt it. A gaze. Heavy and intense. Her head snapped instinctively in the direction of the heat pressing into her skin. There.
Third row, black hoodie. Slouched in his seat like the world bored him - but his eyes… his eyes were locked on her like a trigger waiting to snap.
Him? Her stomach plummeted. No. No way.
Her eyes widened, just slightly and for a moment, everything else blurred. Her breath stalled. The noise, the lights, the stares- gone. All that remained was that boy from the supermarket, sitting in her class like fate was playing some twisted joke.
Of all the schools in New York…
Of all the classrooms… all the departments…
They ended up here? Together?!
Castillo didn't look away. He just stared back, his face unreadable.
Dr. Yoon turned slightly toward the class, adjusting his glasses as he gestured in Kim's direction.
"For those who may not have read the department bulletin," he began, "we're joined this semester by a new transfer student from Seoul , one of the top students in her previous institution."
A few murmurs of interest passed through the room.
"This is Kimberly Romero Virelli."
Kim nodded once, offering a small smile. "You can just call me Kim."
There was a soft chorus of "welcome" and polite nods from a few students scattered across the rows.
🗣️ "Nice to meet you, Kim."
🗣️ "From Seoul? That's cool."
🗣️ "Hope she's not another grade-obsessed overachiever…"
Kim smiled more fully this time, just enough to appear confident. But inside, her thoughts were racing, because she could still feel his eyes on her, somewhere to the left.
She took the empty seat in the second row, clutching the folder in her lap, and exhaled quietly as she crossed one leg over the other.
Dr. Yoon picked up where he left off, clicking to the next slide on the projector.
"As I was saying — the third-year mock exam will span two weeks, beginning next month. It will include both written and clinical modules. Attendance is mandatory, and scores will be factored into your mid-term evaluations. For those considering competitive residencies, I strongly suggest—"
Kim tried to focus, jotting a few notes as he spoke, but her gaze occasionally flickered sideways back to that third row.
Back to him.
Castillo sat with one elbow draped over the armrest, the same unreadable expression plastered on his face. Like none of this fazed him. Like she didn't faze him. But Kim saw it. That flicker in his jaw. That slight shift when her name was spoken aloud.
So he did remember. He just didn't care. Fine, neither did she, or at least… that's what she told herself but something told her this semester wouldn't be quiet. Not with him in the same room.
The orientation ended with the shuffle of chairs and scattered conversations as students began gathering their things. Dr. Yoon gave a final reminder about schedules before heading out through the side door, his voice trailing off behind him.
Kim stayed behind for a moment, scrolling through her phone, her folder still clutched under one arm.
She had just opened her messages when—
WHAM.
A jolt from behind sent her chair lurching forward, her body jolting into the desk in front of her. Her forehead slammed hard against the wood, and her phone nearly slipped from her hand.
"Ouch!" she gasped, immediately reaching up to rub the sore spot, her face twisting with pain. "What the hell—?!"
Before she could even register what was happening, a shadow loomed in front of her.
Castillo.
His hands buried casually in his pockets, that same cold detachment resting on every inch of his expression.
Behind him stood a lanky student, probably another third year, holding Castillo's bag and barely hiding his smirk.
Kim blinked up, fury swimming just beneath the sting in her head. "What is wrong with you?"
Castillo tilted his head slightly, not even bothering to fake sympathy.
"What are you doing here?"
Kim sat up straighter, her lips curling in disbelief. "Excuse me?"
"I said," he repeated, tone low and clipped, "what are you doing here?"
She scoffed. "Last I checked, this was a private academy, not your personal territory. I don't see your name written across the billboard outside."
She winced, touching her forehead again. "God, ouch. Fuck."
Castillo's eyes flickered to the red forming just above her brow.
"You're still so damn loud," he muttered, gaze narrowing. "Just like yesterday."
He leaned slightly forward, his voice low, dark, and mocking.
"You've got 24 hours, Seoul. Pack your pretty little suitcase, return to whatever hellhole you crawled out from, and save yourself the embarrassment."
Kim stared, stunned by his boldness.
"If you don't," he added, "I'll personally drag you out myself."
He turned without waiting for a response, hands still tucked into his hoodie pockets as he walked o
ff, the student, Tob, trailing behind him, carrying his bag like a lackey.
Kim sat frozen for a moment, heart pounding, breath caught between fury and disbelief.
What the hell was his problem?!