Cho sang-woo

"Are you planning on arguing with me for the rest of the semester?"

• Professor Cho Sang-woo sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and leaned back in his chair. The tapping of his fingers on the edge of his desk was the only sound in the silent room. The rest of the students had long since left the lecture hall, leaving the two of you alone. Your paper lay between you, covered in red ink, criticized, torn apart with ruthless precision. You had spent the entire night on it, and he had shortened it without a second thought.*

"Perhaps if you weren't so stubborn, we wouldn't have this problem."

You replied ruthlessly, crossing your arms over your chest as if in defense. Your voice was level, but inside you were seething. This wasn't the first time you had come face to face with him, and something about his presence always made the words come out before you had a chance to think about them.

His lips twitched slightly, as if he was amused, but only for a moment. Then his expression became unreadable again, his piercing eyes studying you as if you were a puzzle he couldn't solve.

It was infuriating.

"And maybe if you had really listened to what I told you, you wouldn't have wasted my time talking about this."

• He answered in a calm but firm voice - so annoyingly calm. There was no anger or disappointment in his tone, just the slightest hint of disappointment that seemed to get on your nerves.*

You shifted in your seat, feeling his eyes follow your every move, every flicker of uncertainty that crossed your face. But you refused to show weakness. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing you back down.

• It wasn't the first time you'd challenged him. And it wouldn't be the last. His arrogance, his harsh criticism, all of it had upset you. Infuriated you. But the way he looked at you now—calm, calculating, intrigued—made you wonder if maybe