The lecture hall fell silent as Professor Jeon Jungkook strode in, his charisma electrifying the room. At twenty seven, he was the youngest professor at the university, but his sharp intellect and dangerous charm made him untouchable. Beneath his polished exterior—tailored suits, piercing gaze—lurked a mafia kingpin, ruthless and cunning. Students and faculty alike were smitten, but Jungkook maintained an icy distance, dismissing love as a weakness.
In the back row, Y/N, a clumsy, intelligent girl from a middle-class family, muttered to her friends Isohee and Arraha, “He’s so full of himself.” Soft-spoken and perpetually tripping over her feet, Y/N loathed Jungkook’s arrogance. His strict demeanor grated on her, and she wasn’t shy about it.
“Miss Y/N,” Jungkook’s smooth voice cut through, sharp as a blade. “Care to share your thoughts?”
Her cheeks flushed as she stood, knocking over her notebook. It hit the floor with a thud, earning snickers. “I—I wasn’t talking,” she stammered, scrambling to pick it up.
Jungkook’s lips curled slightly, not in amusement but irritation. “Focus, or leave.” He turned back to the board, dismissing her.
Y/N sat, fuming. Conceited jerk.
Clashing Sparks
Y/N’s dislike for Jungkook grew over weeks. His relentless critiques—her late assignments, her messy handwriting—felt personal. Yet, his economics lectures were riveting, blending theory with real-world grit that hooked her despite herself. She hated how he lingered in her thoughts.
One evening, Y/N stayed late in the library, lost in a research paper. Her mother had texted her to come home but Y/N lost track of time. Rushing out with an armful of books, she slipped on the steps and crashed into a solid figure.
“Careless as always,” Jungkook’s voice rumbled, steadying her. His grip was warm, at odds with his cold tone.
“S-sorry,” Y/N mumbled, avoiding his eyes. Her books lay scattered, soaked. She knelt to gather them, but Jungkook crouched beside her, picking up her worn copy of Pride and Prejudice.
“A romantic?” he teased, eyebrow raised.
“It’s for a class,” she snapped, snatching it back.
He stood, towering over her. “You’re chaos, Y/N. Get it together.”
She glared. “Not everyone’s a control freak like you, Professor.”
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Control keeps you alive,” he said cryptically, then walked away, leaving her in there.
The Butterfly Moment
Isohee and Arraha were relentless. “He totally stared at you today,” isohee teased over coffee. “There’s something there.”
“Mutual loathing,” Y/N shot back, but Jungkook’s attention was undeniable. During a group project, he lingered by her desk, voice low. “Your analysis is solid, but your presentation’s a mess. You’re smarter than this, Y/N. Show it.”
Her heart skipped at how he said her name, smooth and deliberate. “I’m trying,” she muttered, adjusting her glasses.
He leaned closer, his cologne—cedar and musk—enveloping her. “Try harder.” His eyes held hers, intense, before he moved on.
Arraha whispered, “That was hot.”
Y/N’s face burned. “Shut up.”
At a university fundraiser, Y/N wore a simple green dress, feeling out of place among the elite. Jungkook was there, a vision in a black tuxedo, brushing off admirers with ease. When Y/N tripped over a cable, nearly spilling her drink, he caught her elbow.
“Walking disaster,” he said, but his tone was softer, almost fond.
She pulled away, embarrassed. “I don’t need your help.”
He tilted his head, studying her. “You clean up well, Y/N.”
Her breath hitched. “Compliment or insult?”
A slow, devastating smile spread across his face. “Take it how you want.” He stepped closer, voice a husky whisper. “But you’re impossible to ignore. And I like impossible things..
Her heart raced, but she scoffed. “You’re not my type, Professor.”
His smile didn’t waver. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Falling in Love
Despite her resistance, Y/N was drawn to Jungkook. He sought her out—leaving detailed notes on her papers, asking her to stay after class to discuss her ideas. His cold facade cracked: a lingering glance, a gentle touch when handing her a book. She saw the man beneath—a brilliant mind, a protector with hidden scars.
One night, in his office, a debate about economic theory turned personal. “You act like you’re above everyone,” Y/N said, frustrated. “Why push people away?”
His jaw tightened. “Attachments make you weak.”
“Or human,” she countered.
He stepped closer, voice raw. “You think I don’t feel? You think I don’t notice you, stumbling into my life, challenging me?” He stopped, running a hand through his hair. “You’re driving me crazy, Y/N.”
Her heart pounded. “What are you saying?”
He cupped her cheek, his touch electric. “I can’t stop thinking about you.” He kissed her, slow and intense, pouring suppressed emotion into it. She melted against him, clutching his shirt, lost in him.
The Unspoken Passion
Their secret relationship deepened. Jungkook was still the untouchable professor, the mafia boss, but with Y/N, he was tender, alive. One evening, he invited her to his penthouse, a sleek fortress of glass and steel. Nervous, she knocked over a glass, blushing as it shattered. He laughed, pulling her into his arms.
“Don’t be nervous its also yours house too” he murmured, kissing her forehead.
On his couch, the city skyline glittering outside, his fingers traced her jaw, her lips. She shivered. “Jungkook,” she whispered, unsure.
He paused, searching her eyes. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for.”
But she was ready. She kissed him, tentative, then bolder, her hands sliding under his shirt, feeling his warmth. He groaned, lifting her onto his lap. Their kisses grew urgent, a tangle of need and vulnerability. He carried her to his bedroom, laying her on silk sheets. His touch was reverent, exploring her with care, whispering her name like a vow. Their connection was a quiet rebellion against his guarded world, and they fell asleep entwined, her head on his chest
A Warning
Y/N’s mother, a kind but fiercely protective woman, was horrified when Y/N confessed her feelings. “A mafia man, Y/N? He’s dangerous! I won’t lose you to that world!” she cried, her voice trembling.
“He’s not like that, Mom,” Y/N insisted. “He’s different with me.”
“You’re naive, child. Men like him bring death.”
Y/N didn’t listen, too lost in love. Her friends, Isohee and Arraha, were her cheerleaders, giggling over her stories at the café.
“He’s so into you!” Isohee squealed. “The way he looks at you in class? I’m jealous.”
Arraha nudged her. “Just don’t trip into his arms too often, clumsy.”
Y/N laughed, but a shadow loomed. Kim Namjoon, a rival mafia lord and Jungkook’s supposed ally, had killed Jungkook’s parents years ago. He monitored Jungkook closely, eliminating anyone who got too close. When he learned of Y/N, his smile was cold, his mind scheming.
The Heartbreaking
Namjoon’s spies confirmed Jungkook’s feelings, and he acted swiftly, planting threats—anonymous notes, shadowed figures trailing Y/N. Jungkook, aware of Namjoon’s obsession, knew he had to protect her. The only way was to break her heart.
One rainy night, he called her to his office. Y/N, expecting tenderness, was blindsided.
“I don’t love you,” Jungkook said, his voice like steel, eyes avoiding hers. “You were a distraction. Nothing more.”
Y/N’s world crumbled. “You’re lying,” she whispered, tears streaming down her face. “You felt something. I know you did.”
“It was a game,” he said, turning away, fists clenched to hide his anguish. “Leave, Y/N.”
Her hand cracked across his cheek, the sound echoing in the silent room. “I trusted you,” she choked out, voice breaking. “You’re a coward, Jungkook. I gave you everything, and you—you used me?”
His jaw tightened, but he forced his voice to stay cold. “Get out.”
Sobbing, Y/N stumbled into the rain, her heart shattered. Jungkook sank into his chair, a single tear escaping as he whispered to the empty room, “I’m sorry.”
The Years Apart
Y/N graduated and moved to another city, trying to rebuild her life with her dream. She found a job, while her old friends Isohee and Arraha made her life happier than before, but Jungkook’s betrayal lingered like a scar. Meanwhile, Jungkook abandoned teaching, diving deeper into his mafia empire. He became colder, more ruthless, but never forgot Y/N. He ordered his trusted men to watch her from a distance, ensuring her safety without her knowledge.
The Second Strom
Month later, Y/N bumped into a man at a café—Kim Namjoon. His charming smile disarmed her, but his eyes held a glint of cruelty. “I’m Namjoon,” he said, offering his hand. “Have we met?”
Y/N shook her head, unaware of his identity. Over weeks, they became friends, Namjoon weaving himself into her life with calculated ease. But one day, Y/N visited his office unannounced, freezing when she overheard him speaking to an associate.
“I’ll aim Jungkook on Y/N’s shoulder,” Namjoon said, his voice cold. “She’ll be my arrow to finish him forever.”
“How?” the associate asked.
“I’ll feed her lies,” Namjoon replied. “I’ll tell her I killed my parents’ murderer, that I’m protecting her from a man who never wanted her close. She’ll think it’s my story—but it’s Jungkook’s. He left her to save her life.”
Y/N’s blood ran cold. The truth crashed over her—Jungkook’s cruelty was a sacrifice, not betrayal. Rage and heartbreak surged as she stormed in. “You liar!” she shouted, tears in her eyes. “You used me to hurt him!”
Namjoon’s mask slipped, his smile venomous. “You’re smarter than I thought.” He grabbed her arm, his grip bruising. “But you’re still a toy in my game.”
Y/N struggled, her voice rising. “Let me go!”
Before she could break free, Namjoon’s hand struck her, sending her stumbling. She fled, tracking Jungkook to an old warehouse, his mafia base. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” she demanded, tears streaming. “You let me hate you!”
Jungkook’s eyes softened, pain raw in his voice. “I had to protect you. Namjoon would’ve killed you.”
Before she could respond, Namjoon appeared, gun in hand. “Touching reunion,” he sneered. He slapped Y/N hard, and she stumbled. Jungkook roared, lunging, but Namjoon fired. The bullet hit Y/N’s shoulder, and she crumpled.
Jungkook’s world stopped. He shot Namjoon, bullets relentless, until the man fell lifeless. Scooping Y/N into his arms, he rushed her to the hospital, his voice breaking as he begged her to stay with him.
The Unexpected Sadness
The doctor’s words were a knife: “She’s in a coma. We don’t know when—or if—she’ll wake.”
Jungkook collapsed, a broken man. Y/N’s mother, sobbing, cursed him. “This is your fault! You brought this on her!”
He didn’t argue. He stayed by Y/N’s side, day after day, bringing her favorite lilies, reading her favorite books aloud, whispering apologies. “I love you, Y/N. Please come back.”
Slowly, Y/N’s mother saw his devotion. Her anger softened. “You really love her,” she said one day, tears in her eyes.
The Glimpse Of Hope
Weeks later, Y/N stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting Jungkook’s. “You idiot,” she whispered, voice weak but warm.
Jungkook’s world lit up, tears streaming as he laughed through his sobs. “You’re back.”
Isohee, Arraha, and Y/N’s mother rushed in, their faces wet with happy tears. Jungkook knelt by her bedside, taking her hand. “Y/N, I’ve loved you every day since I let you go. I thought I was saving you, but I can’t live without you. Marry me. Please.”
Y/N’s eyes glistened, a smile breaking through. “You owe me a better apology, but… yes.”
Later the room erupted in joyful sobs, Y/N’s mother embracing Jungkook, her friends cheering. Jungkook slid a ring onto Y/N’s finger, his hands trembling, the hospital room filled with love and second chances.
