I hate him.
I hate him more than anything else in this entire rotten world.
The words looped endlessly inside my head as I watched him from across the courtyard.
Jeong Minho.
Even the name made my stomach twist into ugly knots.
Everyone at Hanyang University knew him. He was a second-year Business Management major, famous for his effortless grades, his ridiculous charisma, and that cocky smile that made professors overlook every rule he broke.
With messy dark hair that somehow always looked perfect, sharp black eyes that gleamed with mischief, and a tall, athletic body that even the soccer team envied, Jeong Minho was everything people admired.
And everything I despised.
Meanwhile, I was Han Haru.
Second-year English Literature major. Lover of silence, books, and anything that did not involve dealing with arrogant loudmouths like him.
I thought if I ignored him hard enough, he would leave me alone.
I was wrong.
Today was no different.
Minho stood in the center of a noisy group near the cafeteria, his laughter carrying across the open air like a curse I could not escape.
Girls giggled around him. A few guys too, laughing at whatever stupid story he was telling with exaggerated hand gestures.
I turned away, clutching my books tighter against my chest.
"Hyung!"
Seojin my childhood friend appeared beside me, slapping my back like I needed CPR. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, his hair sticking up from running.
"Why do you look like you just stepped in dog shit?"
I scowled. "Worse. I saw Minho."
Seojin burst out laughing. "Man, your grudge is impressive."
"You would understand if you had to deal with him every damn day," I muttered, shooting a glare across the courtyard.
It had all started during the college's annual cultural festival.
Back then, I was onstage, presenting a skit for the drama club—our biggest event of the year.
In the middle of my performance, Jeong freaking Minho waltzed across the front row with his group of friends, laughing loudly, completely distracting everyone.
I had stumbled over my lines, my entire performance ruined. He had winked at me like it was some hilarious joke.
I hated him ever since.
From that day, he had taken it upon himself to haunt my life.
Sitting next to me in lectures. Borrowing my pens without asking. Calling me "Princess" just to see me grit my teeth.
At first, I thought he was just another annoying extrovert who could not sit still.
Now I was convinced he was the devil himself in casual jeans and sneakers.
"Maybe he likes you," Seojin said casually, nudging my shoulder.
I nearly dropped my books.
"Do not even joke about that," I snapped.
Seojin just grinned and ruffled my hair like I was some angry kitten.
"You are too easy, Haru."
I hated him.
The lecture hall was almost full when I got there, and of course, because the universe hated me, the only empty seat left was next to him.
Minho.
He spotted me immediately, grinning like a wolf.
He leaned back casually, stretching out his long legs to block half the aisle, looking completely at ease, like this was his world and I was just an unlucky tourist.
"Well, well," he drawled as I stomped toward the seat. "Look who finally decided to bless us with his presence."
I ignored him, slammed myself into the chair, and yanked my notebook out of my bag.
His cologne hit me first.
Clean, crisp, mixed with something warm and stupidly addictive.
I hated it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him smirk.
I stared straight ahead, pretending he did not exist.
Minho leaned in slightly, whispering near my ear.
"You forgot to say hi, Princess."
My hands tightened around my pen.
One day, I swore, I would shove that pen somewhere he would not find so funny.
Still, I refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting.
"Suit yourself," he chuckled, pulling out his notebook.
I glanced sideways, unwillingly.
His handwriting was neat.
Stupidly neat.
Like he had some secret competence hidden under all that chaos.
Class dragged on like a dying snail.
Every few minutes, Minho would tap his pen against the desk just loud enough to break my concentration.
When the professor asked a question, he raised his hand confidently, answering with that same infuriating smirk like he already knew he was right.
I fantasized about throwing my textbook at his head.
When class finally ended, I bolted up so fast I nearly knocked over a chair.
I was halfway to the door when—
"Sunbae"
I froze, hating myself for responding.
Turning slowly, I found Minho standing there, one hand in his pocket, the other casually holding my notebook.
"You dropped this," he said, tossing it with annoying precision.
I caught it, clutching it tightly.
"Thanks," I muttered through gritted teeth.
He grinned lazily.
"Anytime, Princess."
And just like that, he turned and strolled away, whistling.
I stood there, notebook clutched to my chest, furious at everything.
At him.
At myself.
At the fact that my heart was hammering in my ears for no good reason.
I hated him.
I hated the way he noticed stupid little things like my missing notebook.
I hated the way his voice dropped lower when he said my name.
I hated the way he made my stupid heart react.
That night, lying in bed staring at the ceiling, I kept telling myself it was just stress.
It was just annoyance.
Nothing more.
But every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Minho's stupid smirk, the way his dark eyes gleamed when he teased me, the lazy grace of his movements, the soft roughness of his laugh.
I punched my pillow in frustration.
"I hate him," I muttered.
But even to my own ears, it sounded weak.
The next morning was somehow even worse.
Running late for Professor Choi's morning class, I sprinted across the courtyard—and slammed right into a solid wall of muscle.
Strong hands grabbed my arms, steadying me before I could fall.
"Careful," a familiar voice said, amused.
I looked up—and froze.
Minho.
Again.
He blinked down at me, mouth twitching with a barely hidden smile.
"You really have it out for me, huh?"
I yanked myself free, burning with embarrassment.
"Get out of my way," I muttered, storming past him.
His soft laughter followed me all the way into the lecture hall.
I collapsed into the nearest seat, face burning, heart pounding way too hard.
Why did it have to be him every time?
Why did the universe keep throwing him in my path?
Why did my chest ache when he smiled?
I hated him.
I hated him more than anything.
At least, that was what I kept telling myself.