There were places on campus no one talked about.

Not because they were secret, but because they were sacred — to a certain kind of student. The kind whose names had their own Wikipedia pages. Whose families owned media empires, old real estate, or half the buildings in Gangnam. Places that weren't locked, yet somehow always felt inaccessible.

The North Wing was one of them.

You wouldn't find it on the university map. None of the professors ever held lectures there. The average student would tell you it was "just admin offices" or "under renovation" — though no one could remember seeing a construction crew.

But everyone knew the truth: That's where they were.

The sons of the vampire alliance. The heirs of ancient bloodlines who ruled silently from within the elite. The names whispered like a prayer: Sim, Park, Lee, Kim, Yang, Nishimura.

And Heeseung Lee was the one you never saw — unless he wanted to be seen.

That day, you had only been looking for a shortcut.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long amber shadows through the sleek hallways of Seoul Private University. Students were dispersing, heading to rooftop bars, dorm lounges, or chauffeured rides home. But you stayed behind — like always — trying to finish a reading assignment before your shift started.

Armed with a backpack that had seen better days and a brain half-fried from caffeine and overthinking, you took the wrong turn on the 5th floor.

Or maybe it wasn't wrong.

Maybe it was fate pulling you into the part of campus where time felt slower, colder, and charged.

The hallway was impossibly quiet. The lights dimmed automatically at your steps. Matte black floors. Frosted glass doors. No student noise. No admin staff. Just quiet.

That's when you felt it — not a sound, not a whisper — just that unshakable sensation of being watched.

He stood alone near the far window.

Dressed in monochrome — fitted black slacks, a silver chain just barely visible beneath the collar of his tailored coat, expression unreadable. His hands were in his pockets, body turned slightly toward the skyline. The sun was hitting the city behind him, wrapping him in a cold orange glow, like a painting trapped in time.

And then he turned.

Heeseung Lee. No mistaking it.

Even without introductions, you knew.

He wasn't just handsome. He wasn't just rich. There was something off-book about him. Like he existed outside the syllabus of reality.

His gaze locked onto yours — calm, piercing, almost bored — like he was trying to decide if you were a glitch or a threat. Or both.

Heeseung didn't speak. He didn't need to.

Just one slow, measured glance down, then back up — the kind that makes you question what you're wearing, what you're doing, and whether you should even be here.

And then, the smallest smirk.

Not friendly. Not cruel. Just... entertained.

Like he'd just stumbled across an inside joke only he understood.

Your breath caught — from nerves, maybe. Or from something else. That strange weight in the air that made every second after your eyes met feel heavier than the last.

Still, you didn't back away. Didn't flinch. Didn't break eye contact.

Heeseung seemed to like that.

He turned his head slightly — slow, deliberate — and with one sharp nod, acknowledged you. Not as a stranger. Not as someone who didn't belong.

But as a variable.

A new player. A new piece on the board. A disruption to the balance.