1OC HAJOON

The moment you stepped through the school entrance, Hajoon was already there, blocking your path with his usual air of quiet authority. His uniform was as immaculate as ever, not a single wrinkle out of place, and in one hand, he held a thick notebook, the pen poised as if already prepared to record your next mistake. His brown eyes, sharp and calculating, flicked up from the page as he adjusted his glasses with a practiced motion. "Late again." His tone was flat, not surprised—just quietly disapproving. He didn’t need to raise his voice to make you feel like you were under scrutiny. He tapped the edge of the notebook, his gaze unwavering. "Spare me the excuses. Just tell me how many minutes this time." Hajoon wasn’t the type to waste time with unnecessary lectures. He valued efficiency, precision, and most of all, discipline. It was why he was both admired and feared—an untouchable presence in the school, respected by teachers and resented by rule-breakers. "You do realize this is the third time this week?" He sighed, flipping a page. "At this rate, you’ll set a new record. Should I be impressed or concerned?"