Chapter 16: Jun’s Past
The dining room remained silent for a heartbeat, the air thick with the lingering scent of jasmine tea and the unspoken curiosity of the two women. Jun’s mysterious smirk hadn’t faded; if anything, it had deepened, as if he were enjoying the slight tension he had created.
Slowly, Jun reached into the booklet. He didn’t flip through the pages; he went straight to a specific section, his fingers sliding across the paper with intent. He pulled out a single page and slid it across the mahogany table toward Sora.
Sora and Akane both leaned in, their eyes scanning the profile.
The photo showed a young woman with a vibrant, infectious energy that seemed to leap off the page. She had a slim, toned figure—not as voluptuous as Sora’s, but perfectly proportioned with a snatched waist and a bright, playful smile. Her eyes were wide and sparkling, radiating a charisma that was impossible to ignore.
“Hana Lee,” Sora read aloud, her voice filled with curiosity. She scanned the details, her brow furrowing. “A merit-scholarship student. Her talent is in Media and Communication… a mega-influencer and streamer with a massive worldwide following.”
Sora looked at the girl’s measurements and then back at the photo. “Her proportions are quite good,” Sora admitted, her tone objective, though a small seed of uncertainty planted itself in her chest. “She’s clearly stunning, and her social reach is astronomical. But…” Sora paused, looking at Jun. “I can’t pinpoint why she would be a better choice than the other Korean candidates. Her status isn’t as high as some of the others.”
Jun leaned back, his gaze softening as he looked at the image of the girl. “It’s not about her status, Sora. And it’s not about her talent.”
He paused, a rare moment of genuine nostalgia crossing his face. “Hana is a childhood friend of mine. Back in Korea, when I was under house-tutoring and isolated for my education, she was a constant in my life. Her mother was one of my teachers—one of the few women allowed into my inner circle during those years.”
Sora and Akane listened, captivated. They knew Jun had grown up in a gilded cage, monitored by the government and separated from the world. The idea that he had a “childhood friend” felt almost mythical.
“Hana often came to study with me,” Jun continued, his voice low. “Our meetings were kept quiet, hidden from the other boys and the officials. Her mother was an alumna of this Academy, and Hana was… well, she was always around. We grew up together in those quiet rooms, sharing secrets and bickering over textbooks.”
Sora felt a sudden, sharp pinch of jealousy. It wasn’t the jealousy of status or beauty—it was the jealousy of time. She had the title of “First Woman,” but Hana had the history. Hana had known Jun before he was a “Prime Candidate,” before he was a biological asset. She had known the boy behind the legend.
“I saw her name in the catalog,” Jun added, his eyes returning to the photo. “And I saw that she was one of the girls selected to be paired with me. I figured it was better to take care of it now. I don’t want to leave things to chance when it comes to her.”
Sora swallowed, her heart hammering. She understood the logic, but the “Childhood Friend” trope was a formidable hurdle. She realized that while she had the position of power, Hana had the position of intimacy. The thought of another woman having a shared history with Jun—of them having inside jokes and memories that spanned years—made Sora feel suddenly, acutely aware of how new her own connection to him was.
“I see,” Sora whispered, her voice a bit strained. “She must be… very special to you.”
“She is,” Jun replied simply, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
Akane, however, looked at the photo with a different kind of interest. “A mega-influencer, huh? I wonder how she’ll handle the transition from the screen to the Academy’s inner circle. She seems… energetic.”
Jun chuckled. “That’s an understatement. Hana is a storm. But she’s a storm I’ve already weathered.”
Sora tried to regain her composure, forcing a smile. “Well, if you’ve already decided on her, then she will be a welcome addition to the house. I’m sure we can… get along.”
Jun smiled, noticing the slight tension in Sora’s shoulders. He reached over and gave her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Don’t overthink it, Sora. There’s plenty of room in this house for more than one special woman.”
Sora’s blush returned, her heart fluttering. The validation calmed her, but the competitive spark remained. She wouldn’t let Hana’s history overshadow her own devotion. If Hana was the past, Sora would be the present—and the future.
“I suppose we still have the overseas and merit-based slots to consider,” Jun mentioned, glancing back at the booklet. “We can decide on those later. I’m in no rush.”
The conversation drifted for a moment, the atmosphere returning to a relaxed hum. But as the silence stretched, Jun’s expression shifted. He looked at Sora, his gaze becoming more focused, more intentional.
“Speaking of things we’ve postponed,” Jun began, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive register. “When is it that we have our first ‘official’ time? The Academy’s schedule is quite strict about these things.”
Sora froze, her breath hitching. The memory of the Principal’s mention of the recorded “first time” came rushing back. The thought of it—the intimacy, the vulnerability, and the knowledge that they would be watched by the elite of the Academy—sent a shiver of both fear and excitement through her.
“It… it will be this weekend,” Sora whispered, her face turning a deep, vivid crimson. “The Academy’s reproductive cycle begins on Saturday morning.”
Jun let out a slow, thoughtful hum. He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at her—as if he were already imagining her beneath him, her voice crying out his name for the world to hear—made Sora’s legs tremble.
“Saturday,” Jun murmured. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
Sora lowered her head, her heart racing. The weekend felt a lifetime away, yet she knew that once it arrived, everything would change. She was no longer just a guide or a CEO; she was a woman waiting to be claimed.