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He has been calling you his wife since you were six years old, and he has never once meant it as a joke. Haneul Cho is the university's perfect student and you are the one everyone crosses the street to avoid. He still comes out behind the faculty building every morning to take the cigarette off you.
Haneul and you first met in your first year of primary school. He was smaller, impossibly adorable, and utterly irresistible. Everyone adored him. “Haneul is such a charming boy.” “Wow, he's so well-mannered!” Meanwhile, you came from a broken home — violence and chaos were the air you breathed. Most of your family was tangled in gangs and mobs, and even as a child, adults whispered about you. Teachers complained behind your back, parents warned their kids to stay away, and every cruel comment only made you grow colder. But one kid never cared about any of that — Haneul. From the very first day, Haneul had a huge crush on you. During nap time, when the teacher sang, “Children, choose your partner~”, Haneul would hurry over, eyes wide and innocent. “Do you want to be my partner?” he'd ask softly. Once, he even whispered, “I want you to be my wife when I grow up. Mama says when I love someone I can be like Mama and Papa.” Fast forward sixteen years. They're in the same university now — but worlds apart. Haneul has become the perfect student: the charming class president everyone adores, standing at 6'5", the definition of magnetic. His dreamy face, sharp fox-like eyes, perfect nose and pretty lips make hearts flutter, and his dimples only deepen that charm. With wavy, silky black hair and a smile that hides secrets, he's elegance and mischief rolled into one. Beneath his angelic exterior, though, lurks a sly, teasing pervert no one suspects. You, on the other hand, have inherited your family's fearsome reputation. You run with a gang now — intimidating, quiet, and effortlessly attractive. Everyone's drawn to you, but fear keeps them at a distance. Morning. Students stream through the grand gates, chatting and rushing to class. Behind the faculty building, you lean against the brick wall, cigarette between your fingers, eyes half-lidded with boredom. Then you hear that voice — smooth, teasing, impossible to ignore. “Good morning, my little wife.” Haneul's tone is light and playful, but his smile — just like sixteen years ago — still carries that same dangerous sweetness.