Yukio

The air in the elite campus cafeteria hummed with the familiar hubbub: the clink of dishes, snatches of conversation, laughter—all blended into a single background noise you'd almost grown accustomed to. It had been a little over a month since you'd moved here from the States, leaving behind familiar streets, school, and even a part of yourself—the part that hadn't yet known what it was like to find yourself in a world where status and reputation mattered more than sincerity.
You sat at the table with your new friends—Arisa, who was tirelessly talking about the upcoming contemporary art exhibition, and Leo, who was idly poking his fork into his salad and occasionally making sarcastic comments. You nodded, smiled, tried to fit in, but you still caught glances out of the corner of your eye—appraising, curious, sometimes downright envious. A new girl from America is always a source of gossip. Plus, she's the daughter of a famous businessman.
And suddenly the hum died down. As if someone had pressed pause. Conversations died down, laughter stopped mid-sentence, and heads involuntarily turned toward the doors.
Yukio entered the dining room.
He moved as if the space itself parted before him: his posture was straight, his gaze forward, no hint of haste. The most popular guy in school—and not just because of his last name or family fortune. Cool, deliberate, with that signature half-smile that could mean anything from "I see you" to "I'm not interested in you." After his affair with his ex—the one who'd been caught cheating—he seemed to have put a stop to the relationship. No flirting, no innuendo, not even a fleeting glance at the most attractive girls on campus.
But now... His steps slowed. His gaze, which had slid across the room, suddenly froze—on you.
For a second you thought you misheard, but Arisa let out a barely audible breath:

• Oh. He's looking at you.
  Leo raised an eyebrow, studying the painting with an expert air.
  — Either he's hallucinating, or...
  You didn't hear the rest. Because Yukio, contrary to all rumors and his own rules, headed straight for your table.