Chapter 53: Hana’s Storm
The afternoon sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the orientation hall, casting a golden glow over the rows of polished desks. For most of the female students, the last few days had been a blur of excitement and strategic planning. For Hana, however, it had been a slow descent into a very specific kind of irritation.
The bell finally rang, signaling the end of the day’s session. The teacher, a poised woman in a sharp blazer, stood at the front of the room. “That concludes today’s orientation. Please ensure you have submitted your elective course selections by this evening. I expect all of you to be mindful of your credit requirements.”
A chorus of polite greetings followed as the students began to pack their bags, but the air in the room was far from professional. It was buzzing.
Hana sat slumped in her chair, her eyes fixed on her terminal. She was still staring at the elective list, her finger hovering over the screen. She had already picked four, but the final slot was proving difficult. Not because she couldn’t decide, but because she couldn’t focus.
Beside her, Mei and Akane had already finished. Mei was calmly reviewing her schedule, while Akane was adjusting her bag, her expression as neutral as ever.
“Are you still deciding, Hana?” Mei asked, her voice smooth and devoid of judgment. “The deadline is tonight. You shouldn’t leave it until the last minute.”
“I’m getting to it,” Hana replied, her voice a bit sharper than usual. She didn’t look up, but her grip on the terminal was tightening.
Around them, the room had dissolved into a cacophony of whispers. The topic, as it had been for the last seventy-two hours, was the cinema screenings.
“I can’t believe it,” one girl whispered, her voice carrying across the row. “I tried to get a ticket this morning, but they’re completely gone. Sold out in seconds!”
“I heard some people are selling their tickets in the group chats,” another added, her voice filled with a mix of greed and desperation. “The price has jumped five times! Five times! Who would pay that much just to watch a video?”
“Anyone who wants to see him,” the first girl replied, her voice dropping to a dreamy sigh. “I mean, have you seen the promos? Jun is… he’s on a whole other level. I’ve never seen a Prime Candidate look so… dominant.”
The conversation quickly spiraled as a few girls, their expressions smug and triumphant, leaned in to share their success.
“I actually managed to snag one!” a girl from the back row whispered, her voice practically vibrating with excitement. “I had my terminal refreshed the exact millisecond the portal opened. I can’t believe I actually got it. I’ve already cleared my entire schedule for the day. I’m going to watch it on a loop if they let me!”
“Lucky!” another girl hissed, her eyes wide with envy. “I heard the ‘Golden Tickets’ are being traded for luxury handbags and designer jewelry just to get a seat. My roommate is trying to trade her limited edition Chanel bag for a ticket. She’s literally losing her mind over it.”
“It’s not just about the status,” a third girl added, her voice becoming more visceral. “I saw a snippet of the trailer—just a few seconds—and the way he breathes… the way he looks at Sora like she’s his favorite toy… it’s not just sex. It’s like he’s claiming her entire existence. I’ve seen a hundred ‘elite’ men, but none of them have that kind of raw, animal magnetism.”
The girls began to speculate wildly about what the full footage would reveal. Some wondered if there were multiple scenes, while others debated whether Jun’s “Pro” techniques were as legendary as the rumors suggested. The atmosphere in the room shifted from simple curiosity to a collective, hungry obsession. They weren’t just talking about a movie; they were discussing a blueprint for the kind of pleasure they all secretly craved.
Hana listened to it all, her expression remaining neutral, but internally, she was cataloging every word. The “Golden Tickets,” the designer trades, the “animal magnetism”—it was all a testament to her Oppa’s power. But the more they talked about his “claim” over Sora, the more Hana felt the need to remind them that she had known him long before the Academy, long before he was a “Prime,” and long before he became the obsession of every girl on the island.
Hana’s finger stopped moving. She perked her ears, her eyes narrowing as she listened. A small part of her felt a surge of pride. Of course my Oppa is popular, she thought. He’s the best. It’s only natural that everyone is obsessed with him.
But as the conversation continued, the pride began to curdle.
“And did you see the leak photos?” a girl whispered, leaning in closer to her friend. “The way his muscles are defined… he doesn’t look like a student; he looks like a god. I wonder if he’s that thick everywhere. I bet it feels like heaven to be hugged by him… or kissed.”
Hana’s jaw tightened. The thought of other girls imagining Jun’s touch—imagining the weight of his body or the taste of his lips—sent a jolt of possessiveness through her. She felt a sudden, irrational urge to mark him, to remind the entire Academy that he belonged to her first.
In a fit of sudden irritation, Hana pressed her finger down on the terminal with far more force than necessary.
BEEP!
The terminal emitted a sharp, jarring error sound. Everyone nearby jumped slightly, glancing toward her. Hana quickly smoothed her expression, her face returning to the bubbly, innocent mask of the “Nation’s Sweetheart.”
“Oops,” she giggled, her voice sounding sweet and airy. “My terminal is acting up. Silly thing!”
Akane and Mei exchanged a knowing glance. They had seen this before. Hana wasn’t having a technical glitch; she was having a mood swing.
The other girls, however, were quickly quickly distracted. They returned to their gossip, their voices growing more excited, the air around them thick with a mixture of envy and raw curiosity.
“I saw the photo of him carrying Sora,” one girl gushed, her voice trembling with excitement. “The way she looked so small in his arms… so completely spent. She looked like she had just been through a war and lost every single battle. I’d give anything to be princess-carried like that.”
“But did you see her face?” another girl chimed in, her eyes wide. “She wasn’t just tired. She looked… ruined. In the best way possible. I’ve seen Sora Tsukamoto in the hallways for two years; she’s always so cold, so untouchable. But in that photo? She looked like a melted candle. I can’t even imagine the kind of sex that could do that to her. He must have absolutely demolished her composure.”
“It has to be more than just size,” a third girl whispered, leaning in close. “It’s the way he handles her. Look at the way she’s clinging to him, like she can’t even stand on her own. I bet she was screaming his name until her voice gave out. I bet he didn’t let her up for air for hours. I mean, imagine being that thoroughly used… I don’t even care about my credits anymore; I just want to find a way to apply as a maid in his house.”
“Right? Imagine the chances you’d have to seduce him if you were just… there,” the first girl added, a predatory glint in her eye. “You’d see him every day. You’d smell him. You’d know exactly when he’s in the mood. If I could just get one minute of that attention, I wouldn’t care if I had to scrub his floors with a toothbrush.”
Hana listened to the spoiled descriptions of Sora’s submission, her jaw tightening. The way they spoke about Sora being “ruined” or “demolished” didn’t bother her—in fact, she agreed. She knew exactly how Jun could make a woman feel. What bothered her was the casual way they were already planning how to “insert” themselves into his life.
BEEP! BEEP!
The terminal shrieked again. This time, it was a series of rapid-fire error sounds. Hana was no longer trying to hide it. She was aggressively tapping the screen, her eyes flashing with a dangerous glint.
Akane leaned in, her voice a soft, calming murmur. “Are you finished, Hana? We should probably head out. It’s almost time to meet up with Jun and Sora.”
The mention of Jun acted like a switch. Hana’s expression shifted instantly. She stood up, her movements fluid and graceful, her face blooming into a radiant, cheerful smile that would have fooled anyone who didn’t know her.
“Yes! Finally!” Hana chirped, her voice sounding like a bell. She slung her bag over her shoulder and turned toward the other girls, who were still whispering about “seducing” Jun.
As she passed them, Hana paused. She didn’t look at them directly, but she leaned in just enough for the closest girl to hear her.
“You know,” Hana said, her voice still sweet, but with a sudden, chilling edge that made the other girl freeze. “Jun-oppa is very particular about who he lets into his space. He doesn’t really like… clutter.”
The girl blinked, confused by the choice of words, but as she looked at Hana, she felt a sudden, inexplicable shiver run down her spine. Hana wasn’t looking at her with the warmth of a classmate; she was looking at her as if she were an insignificant obstacle that needed to be cleared.
In Hana’s mind, the “Nation’s Sweetheart” mask was slipping, revealing the possessive storm beneath. She didn’t just see fellow students; she saw intruders. Every mention of Jun’s body, every whisper of his “prowess,” felt like a thief trying to steal a piece of something that belonged solely to her. She imagined the “clutter” she had mentioned—the girls who thought they could seduce him, the ones who thought a “maid’s uniform” was a golden ticket. To Hana, the idea of another woman’s hands on Jun, or another woman’s breath on his skin, felt like a physical ache in her chest.
He is mine, she thought, her gaze darkening. He was mine before this Academy, and he will be mine long after. These girls are just playing house; they don’t know the real Jun. They don’t know the way he looks at me, or the way he says my name. They are just… noise.
She gave them a small, saccharine smile, her eyes not matching the warmth of her lips. “I’d hate for someone to try too hard and end up being a total embarrassment. It would be such a shame, wouldn’t it? To put yourself out there and realize you’re just… not enough for him.”
The warning was subtle, but the underlying threat was clear. It wasn’t just a comment on their looks or status; it was a psychological strike. She wanted them to feel small. She wanted them to doubt their own appeal before they even had a chance to try.
With a final, playful wink, Hana turned and walked away with Akane and Mei, her steps light and airy once more. But as she walked, she didn’t look back. She didn’t need to. She had left a seed of doubt in their minds, a cold reminder that the “Sweetheart” had claws.
The other girls looked at each other, confused and slightly intimidated. They didn’t know why, but for a second, the “Nation’s Sweetheart” had felt more like a predator than a princess. They had seen the mask, but for a fleeting moment, they had glimpsed the possessive, territorial force that lived underneath.