“Aigoo, why do you look this regretful?” Your eighty year old grandmother, or as you liked to call her, Halmi, clasped her hands together when she took in you and your little six year old brother Jontae. Her exclamation was not unjustified. The both of you were drenched from the sudden downpour that disappeared as quickly as it started. It was the summer monsoon season in Korea, and once again, you forgot to take your umbrella when you rushed to school early in the morning. “You both will get pneumonia! Oh, dear Lord, then who will take care of me?” she went on while you rushed Jontae to the bathroom. “We’re okay, Halmi, no need to overreact,” you said and tapped Jontae’s to get him moving. “Take off your clothes, I’ll bring you new ones. Start the warm water.” He only nodded wordlessly, doing as he was told. “You’ll bring water everywhere, don’t come any more inside,” shrieked Halmi and stood up from the floor on which she was sitting as she was cutting up the vegetables in front of an old TV you still had from the early 2000s. You bit back a frustrated sigh and waited by the bathroom to not upset the grandma. You watched her rummage through the wardrobe before she threw Jontae’s pajamas and one old shirt at you. You murmured a quick thanks and rushed to join your brother. What a life, you thought as you waited for the warm water to start but, as usual, it was taking too long and the water waste made you fidgety and nervous. “I’m hungry,” murmured Jontae. You sighed and ruffled his hair. “I’m sure Halmi is preparing something delicious. We will eat soon.” “Will you sleep at home tonight?” he asked softly as you finally pushed him under the warm water, letting him wash up first. “No,” you told him, scrubbing his back, “your noona failed some tests so she has to study at the library tonight as well.” “But you don’t even want to study,” he pouted at you. You scrunched up your nose at him and wiggled your fingers on his tummy, making him shriek and squirm in delight. “Aren’t you a little too smart with your older sister, Jontae.” He was right, though. At university, you wanted to study quite an unusual major. Becoming a jeweler and owning your own business was a huge, though silent, dream of yours. It had to stay silent because you probably wouldn’t be able to afford any higher education anyway. You lived in modern poverty; Seoul was a draining city to live in and not fun at all when one didn’t have the means to enjoy what it offered. Your mother was working in Gangwon-do in the mountains and your father - well, you never had one. Your mother had a one night stand and ended up with you. As for Jontae… the dude left as soon as your mother asked to go for a hospital check up together.  You were living with your maternal grandmother who was the kindest woman, though very harsh and strict. You never felt bad with her; she did everything and anything for you and Jontae, as long as you behaved. That part wasn’t hard. You barely had any friends because you were taking care of Jontae in your free time. Taking him to kindergarten, and now elementary school, picking him up, being present at meetings, you did almost everything a mother should be doing. Halmi was too old to attend meetings for Jontae, but she was attending all of the required meetings in your high school - which, thankfully, were not many, until you started screwing up in classes pretty badly. Pretty badly, as in, literally failing. Trying to pinpoint a certain time stamp would be  a challenge, for you yourself weren't sure why. Granted, you didn't really study in the library. Instead, you had your magnifier on and throughout the night you were endlessly practicing jewelry making; you studied materials and their functions. The list went on. It was considered studying, just not the one Halmi imagined. Yet, you were still very much surprised, when one day the coolest teacher asked you something very peculiar.  “Can you talk to me after class?” Professor Byun was standing in front of your desk with a pleasant expression, yet it was quite hard to decipher what it actually meant. You nodded. “Yes, sir.” As always, you fought hard against your frantically beating heart. A living and walking dream of every high school girl in this institution (and you were no different) just spoke to you personally. Byun Baekhyun, as was his full name, was your home room and physics teacher who you had the pleasure of knowing for three years now. At the time of your admittance to the high school, he was the youngest professor who just freshly finished his masters degree and managed to land a job at your institution. It was a regular high school, but he was anything but. Countless gossip roamed around the corridors about him being a rich man, living in an upscale penthouse with two Lamborghinis. No one ever saw those Lamborghinis, but no one had difficulty doubting those baseless rumours given how the male looked.  He was out of this world hawt. As in, instant-salivating-kind-of hawt. Just a simple laugh of his could make girls giggle behind their palms, cross their legs and stare with eyes that only hunters developed as a skill. And well, now, the high school girls who were taught by Byun Baekhyun. “You’re in trouble again,” snickered Teo who was sitting behind you (and constantly bothering you). “Unless the pretty chemistry teacher won’t steal him before you can reach his desk.” That made several students burst into laughter and you could only smile a sad smile. The said chemistry teacher poked her head in, there being still a few minutes left before the first period would start. Mr Byun smiled as he greeted her and walked over to the door, leaning against the doorframe flirtily to talk to her. He greeted every passing student as well which only proved why everyone loved him. He was cool. Smooth. Funny. Authority-oozing… Hot piece of a man. “Imagine him looking at you like that,” sighed dreamily the girl at the table next to you. “Impossible.” You puckered your lips, nodding as you sent daggers towards the couple. “Totally.” . . . “You wanted to talk to me?” you asked with slight uneasiness while the rest of the class was piling out of the classroom, headed for the next class. Mr Byun nodded with a smile. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing too bad.” He crinkled his nose at you and your heart made an excited jump. You only smiled shyly, averting your gaze downwards as you tightened your grip around the strap of your bag. He seemed to wait a little until the last student left before he cleared his throat and sat on his table casually, facing you. “Is everything alright?” he asked kindly, swinging his foot. You looked up in immediate apprehension. “Yes! I was just waiting for you to start speaking, sir.” Mr Byun let out a handsome, short chuckle. “No, I meant in general. How are you doing? Do you get enough sleep?” “Can’t you see it for yourself, sir?” you asked cheekily as you pointed at the bags under your eyes. Mr Byun let his eyes hover on the spot you were pointing at before he met your shaking orbs. “Yeah, exactly.” “I try to study, that’s why…” you shrugged, swaying on the heels of your feet. “Yet your grades look quite bad. I don’t want to be biased but you pretty badly at my subject,” he said it lightly, jokingly, but you knew better than that. Mr Byun wasn't very happy with your performance. “I’ll try harder,” you muttered, looking down on the floor again. “I gave you three years to try harder,” he told you quietly as he crossed his arms on his chest. You gulped, not daring to look at him. “Which is why I wanted to talk to you. I want you to take private classes of mine, otherwise I won’t be able to pass you with my subject, and we can’t let that happen. You’ll be graduating soon and need to enter university.” You looked up at him. “I won’t be going, sir.” “To my private class?” “To university.” He went quiet at that, thinking over his next move carefully. Eventually, he asked in a low, confidential tone. “Why is that, hm?” Your heart was beating loudly against your rib cage. Wasn’t this the longest conversation you’d ever had with Mr Byun? Having all his attention on you felt foreign, a little unnerving but you found yourself really liking it. You liked that you were the receiver of his attention for a change. Not some darn chemistry teacher with fake teeth. You bit your lip, not reciprocating his eye contact. Shame ate you away; all the chances at this capitalistic world weren’t meant for you. How could you tell that to him, though? “Personal problems?” he tried softly. You nodded. Mr Byun sighed, nodding to himself, but did not pry any more. “I’ll be seeing you twice a week. At seven on Tuesday and Thursday, got it?” “Do I really have to?” you asked as you watched him stand up properly, now having to tilt your head to reach his eyes. “You will be in a lot of trouble if you won't,” he reminded you, “and I’m your home room teacher. I’m afraid you don’t really have a choice.” Bitterness spread in your mouth at the news; it wasn’t like you had better things to do. It was more about you not having energy, about you having to catch up with countless other subjects. But Mr Byun had seemingly high expectations (not sure on what basis) and you had to comply. He was a tad too handsome to be let down, too. “Alright, sir.” Mr Byun had a bright smile on his face as he winked at you. “Great. Now quickly go, or else you’ll miss the next period.” Bowing to him hastily, you turned swiftly to rush out of the classroom. You didn’t see Mr Byun watching you leave; you didn’t see the way your long, shiny hair caught his eye or the way the gentle shampoo hit his senses.  He saw a very thin, but beautiful young girl. . . . You dreaded the time of the private class. You never spoke to Mr Byun after that so you had no other choice but to trust his words when you rushed to his office at five past seven. You were late but it wasn’t your fault. You had duties at home but Mr Byun didn’t know and you doubted he would even care. With heavy breathing, you walked up to the closed door just for it to fly open, making you gasp loudly from shock. Mr Byun was staring at you, looking as if he was ready to rush out of his office but upon spotting you, he stopped. “Oh, you came. Why didn’t you just knock? You didn’t have to wait out here.” “Eh…” you only managed to grow a shade darker on your cheeks as you nodded in shyness, averting his gaze. Let him believe that... He breathed out a small laugh. “Come on in so we can start.” He turned right away, walking back into his office, efficiently offering a rich look of his back. He was sporting a simple white dress shirt and to your huge shock, just after you closed the door, he was undoing his tie, throwing it on a small couch where his bag rested. He turned to you when he sensed your hesitation as he was undoing the first button on his shirt. With his head, he motioned to the spare chair next to his. “You can sit here.” You nodded, quickly following along. Sitting yourself down, you busied yourself with unloading your bag, a simple notebook and a pen. Since you didn't feel him move to sit down, you pretended to rummage through your bag a little longer, too shy to raise your gaze, worried you actually might faint from his handsomeness. “You won't be needing anything else,” he spoke up amusedly when your rustling had no ending. You stopped, unceremoniously dropping the bag next to your feet and grabbing the pen, showing him you were ready to listen. Mr Byun let out a chuckle as he pushed his hands into his dress pants, enjoying himself a tad too much. “Hmm, you really look like a punished child.” “It's okay!” you exclaimed, looking at him in haste. You opened your mouth to speak more but abruptly stopped when you spotted his pleasant smile, his eyes a little narrower as the apples of his cheeks pushed them up.  Wow… “Don't worry, I'll try to be fast and as interesting as a physics topic can allow it,” he reassured you, his smile changing into a lopsided one when he realized he stole the words off your tongue. Eventually, he took the seat next to yours, the rolled up sleeves of his shirt revealing his smooth skin, two exceptionally protruding veins snaking and popping, making it hard for you to stop staring. Thankfully, Mr Byun didn't notice as he brought up the physics textbook, opening the book at the relevant chapter. The law of attraction, it read. “Everything around us is a vibrating energy,” you heard his words, “isn't it interesting?” he wondered out loud and smiled at your dumbfounded face. “Whatever you may wish, you can bring it to yourself. Opposites attract. The manifestation. Magnetism.” You gulped, as Mr Byun kept going on, lost in his own world, but his eyes were very much settled on you. “Then comes the unwavering desire.” He was pointing to some graphs in the textbook now, chuckling to himself when he spotted you swallowing again. “There has to be a certain delicate balance that can keep the energy going. Through that perfect balance, you achieve…” he said, his voice going lower when his finger travelled over the glistening paper to a well-balanced scale, “harmony. Everything that you had been lacking, is filled up, and through the law of attraction, the weight gently balances in the sweet neutral.” He was alluring you in, even though you could only see his profile. You spotted two moles on the side of his nose and you found them beautiful. “Your thoughts?” Mr Byun suddenly turned to you, his eyes expectant and shiny. They seemed to be in a constant smile. Your breath hitched in your throat at the sudden scrutiny, albeit none of it was ill intended. Mr Byun could hardly know the effect he had on you (or any girl student). “Uh, I think… um, how does this have to do with physics…” you let out a frustrated sigh to yourself, your eyes wildly looking everywhere but his calm gaze. “This is just some unconfirmed theory, right?” You prayed you sounded as smart as you did in your own brain. To your surprise, Mr Byun hummed deeply, still observing you as he nodded once, his lips. “It's just pseudoscience, you are correct.” He turned his head  to look at the textbook. “But … what I am meaning to tell you is, that whatever you wish for, you can get it.” Frowning, you puckered your lips, thinking. His eyes were back on you, his smile gone as he raised his eyebrows. The action made you feel uneasy and intimidated. “So I advise you,” he said quieter, “to start dreaming and reaching for whatever makes you happy.” . . . After that first tutoring, you were quite shaken up. Mr Byun was quite the surprise to say the least. He was always his usual self, but you never heard him say those words to other students, as much as he was a positive character. You always had a crush on him, just like other classmates (and anybody who crossed paths with him) had, but you never gave it much thought, of course. He was a very handsome, y and charismatic man (man, not a boy) and it was natural for girls of your age to develop a little, innocent crush. You didn’t think it would develop to something more once the tutorings with him started. Why did you always become a flustered high school girl whenever you were the attention of his seeking gaze? Maybe because you were one. He never did anything to fuel your intensive emotions, but that merely proved that just being himself was more than enough to pull at your heart strings. You found yourself thinking about him in your spare time. And even when it wasn’t your spare time. You were cutting up vegetables for Halmi one evening when you accidentally cut your finger, making you hiss at the prickly feeling. It was quite the cut as the blood spilled right away. “Aigooo, what’s gotten into you,” wailed grandma as she looked at the job well done over your shoulder. “We don’t need that in the soup!” You rolled your eyes and let her yank your hand under the flow of cold water. “You are constantly thinking and mulling,” she scolded with a disapproving tsk, “is it because of your grades?” Well, partly; your grades that caused you to see Mr Byun two times more than it was scheduled.  “It’s okay, don’t worry,” she patted your back once she let go of your hand, taking your quietness as a yes. “No one in our family had good brains anyway, just look at your mother.” You hummed, hoping Jontae wasn’t listening in on the conversation. He was quietly sitting on the floor, doing his homework on the coffee table. Halmi gave him apples cut into squares and you occasionally heard his crunchy chews. “But I’d still like to do well,” you murmured in insistence. “I’ll go back to the library after dinner.” “At this rate you can move all your stuff there,” rasped Halmi with disapproval as she cut the neglected vegetables. She waved her hand around with the knife before going back for a harsh cut. “And it still wouldn’t help.” Biting your lip, you only lowered your head in embarrassment. She didn't know what you were doing in the library. In fact, nobody knew or could know what you were doing there. That was your own little secret. Which was why you almost gasped in horror when you saw Halmi approaching your school bag one hour later. You already ate and were dressing up for the air-conditioned library space. “Halmi, that's okay, I will put it in the bag!” you shouted, your shirt askew as you literally threw it on messily, rushing over before she could open the bag. She looked up at you in frown, taking in your panicked countenance. “Okay, okay, no need to be so aggressive with your Halmi, huh.” She pushed the tupperware into your hands before she scurried off, patting Jontae's head in the process. You let out a sigh of relief, quickly throwing the container into your bag before you stood up to catch your little brother frowning at you. “What?” “Your shirt, noona,” he sighed. You looked down only to see half of your bra poking out. With a shaky laugh you quickly adjusted the shirt. . . . You were staring at his slender fingers, the way they gracefully held the marker as the tip of it glided over the slippery surface of the white board. He was explaining some physical occurrences through mathematics and you tried to look like you understood, just because he tried so hard, not once losing his patience with you. “Do you understand until this point?” he on