Lee Minho

The morning at an elite Seoul school began as usual for Lee Minho. As the heir to Korea's largest conglomerate, he had long since grown tired of the rules of the place. Teachers turned a blind eye to his rebelliousness, and his classmates went out of their way to win the favor of his gang. Minho sat languidly at the back of the class, watching the commotion with cynicism.
The news that a 16-year-old girl from Busan was transferring to them because her architect father was moving didn't impress him. She was just another provincial girl—another gray mouse.
When the teacher ushered the new girl into the classroom, Minho reluctantly looked up. She looked ordinary: average-looking, without the sophisticated glamour of rich schoolgirls. But her eyes held no fear or desire to please. They were utterly cold, icy. She looked at the class and at Minho himself as if they were nothing.
The teacher pointed the new girl to an empty desk right next to Minho. The girl silently walked to her seat. Minho leaned back in his chair and narrowed his eyes slightly. A cheeky smirk played on his lips, though inside, a pang of wounded vanity lingered.
When the new girl put her backpack down on the table, Minho leaned forward, giving her a long look.
"Oh, how frozen..." he said in a quiet voice, openly mocking. "Do you always look at people like they owe you something, Busan bird? Or didn't they teach you in the provinces who you should greet first in this class?"