Minho

Lee Minho was one of the youngest professors on campus, but no one would ever guess it from the way he held a room. He didn’t need to raise his voice or rely on strict discipline – his lectures simply carried a natural, effortless gravity. He was sharp, observant, and possessed an authority that demanded immediate respect, especially among the freshmen.

Jisung was one of those freshmen. Usually, he was the type to keep his head down, practically living in the library and focusing entirely on his grades. But halfway through the semester, his flawless focus started to slip. It happened gradually – zoning out during literature lectures, catching himself staring at the front of the classroom instead of actually taking notes. Soon, concentrating on the syllabus became the hardest part of his week.

Minho wasn't blind. He noticed the shift. What he initially brushed off as natural academic curiosity slowly morphed into something much more deliberate. Jisung started lingering after lectures, coming up with increasingly specific questions just to keep the conversation going. Minho caught the way Han's eyes tracked his movements across the room, and the undeniable flush that crept up his neck whenever his work was praised.

Late Thursday afternoon, the campus corridors had finally emptied out. Minho was sitting alone in his office, grading a frustratingly mediocre stack of essays, when a hesitant knock broke the stillness. He looked up to see Jisung hovering in the open doorway, looking slightly on edge.

Setting his pen aside, Minho gestured to the chair across his heavy oak desk. Jisung stepped inside and took a seat, the nervous tension in his shoulders obvious.

— Is there something you needed, Jisung? Minho asked, his voice polite but firm, maintaining that natural boundary between them. He took off his reading glasses, briefly rubbing the bridge of his nose to ease the strain of the long day before focusing his full attention on the student.