The morning sun hadn't even decided whether to bless the city or blind it when Arisa stepped onto the academy grounds. Her pink hair glinted under the soft sunlight, blue eyes scanning the crowd with calm precision. Every movement was calculated—every step, every glance. The chatter around her? Background noise.
Boys froze mid-step the moment they noticed her. Not just because of her hair or eyes, but those curves that seemed illegal for her age. Chest, hips—impossible, but she walked like she didn't care. Confidence radiated off her, predator in a meadow of prey. Inside, she calculated angles, people, threats.
Her best friends were near the terrace, whispering. Some waved. She nodded politely but didn't linger. Attention was dangerous, especially from the boys in her class. Those who would stop at nothing to catch a glimpse, to touch… to claim.
Across the field, leaning casually against a column, was Rafael. Dark eyes sharp, body relaxed, but every fiber of his being screamed that he had noticed her. To him, she was a 100/100 baddie—an instant, uncontrollable obsession. His friends, Tony and Max, whispered theories, Tony chuckling that Rafael had no shot. Max scribbled notes for strategy. Rafael didn't care.
Arisa entered the classroom like a contained storm. Boys turned. Letters slipped from hands. Whispers became audible comments. Some even left twenty notes on her desk, all desperate. She glanced at them. No expression. No acknowledgment. A shield of poise activated.
Keep it together. Ignore them. Focus on class. Her thoughts were sharp, rapid. Tuition to pay, life demanding independence, body drawing attention she couldn't control. Every glance was a variable, every whisper a threat. Yet, she remained unflinching, like the world was scenery and she the only actor who mattered.
Rafael's eyes narrowed. The moment he saw her, his pulse shot sky-high. Heart racing, mind calculating. Immediate, primal acknowledgment: I will get her, no matter the cost. His friends gawking, whispering about legality and strategy, didn't matter.
Attention is dangerous, Arisa reminded herself. She didn't turn toward the chuckle behind the row. She had survived longer than most because she moved like a shadow—untouchable, untamed.
For Rafael, this was no ordinary girl. This was a mission, an obsession, a storm he could neither predict nor resist. And for Arisa? She had no idea her day was about to spiral into chaos she could never calculate.The classroom door opened, and all heads turned instantly. Pink hair that caught the light like a flare, blue eyes sharper than any blade, and a figure that seemed to command gravity itself—Arisa walked in. She was the type of girl who didn't need to speak for people to notice her, though whispers started as soon as her heels clicked against the floor. Love letters piled on her desk like some foolish tribute from the boys in the class—twenty at least, each with sloppy hearts and desperate scribbles.
Rafael's pulse spiked the moment he saw her. He had seen many beautiful girls before, but none like this—every curve, every subtle sway of her hips, every hint of exposed collarbone teased his senses mercilessly. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, his chest tightening like it wanted to burst. 100/100 baddie, he thought, heart hammering. Not a word could describe her; even a million rubles wouldn't be enough to "own" this one.
His friends Tony and Max noticed him freeze. Tony, always the reckless one, nudged him. "Bro, you really want her or what? Look at that—total baddie mode activated." Rafael only blinked, eyes locked on Arisa. Max, the bookworm of the trio, rolled his eyes. "You're ridiculous. She's untouchable." But Tony laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, but you have to try, bro. Otherwise, it's just watching paradise walk by."
Arisa didn't notice the boys at first. Her mind was calculating, scanning the classroom, every potential danger. She knew the whispers would come, she knew the stupid boys would try to approach, but she moved with the confidence of someone who had learned to survive alone. Since her father's death, since her mother's accident, she'd grown up fast, in a way her peers couldn't understand. Her body betrayed her age, yet her mind was sharper than anyone dared imagine.
A few boys dared to approach, offering awkward smiles, but she waved them off without a word. Too weak. Too obvious, she thought. One of them got bold, inching closer, but before he could act, Rafael's shadow loomed, and the boy froze, tripping over his own feet. Tony smirked. "Yeah, see? Told you, bro."
Arisa's sharp blue eyes scanned the room, pausing momentarily at Rafael. Something about him—confident, sharp, yet different from the others—made her instinctively wary. She noted the way his jaw tensed, the heat in his eyes. Dangerous. Reckless, she thought. And yet, part of her curiosity stirred.
As she slid into her seat, Rafael's heartbeat thundered. He couldn't believe the audacity of his own biology, reacting to a girl so young in mind yet… impossibly mature in presence. He swallowed hard, trying to compose himself, but the sight of her—the hair tousled just so, the subtle sway of her shoulders—was enough to make his thoughts chaotic.
Her friends, the ones who had invited her to the "study terrace," whispered among themselves, glancing at her with envy and fascination. But Arisa's focus remained razor-sharp. She ignored the attention, the letters, the gawking boys. She had survived worse and knew instinctively how to handle threats—even the silent, hungry gaze of a teenage millionaire in the back of the class.
And Rafael? He had already made up his mind. No matter the cost, no matter the effort, he would get close to her. Even if it takes a million rubles, even if it takes breaking through every barrier around her… she's mine to understand, mine to chase.
The bell rang, but the tension lingered. Boys whispered. Hearts raced. And Arisa, oblivious to the storm she had just stirred, opened her notebook, already calculating her next move.
Rafael didn't even blink as he leaned against the classroom doorframe, arms crossed, observing the chaos. Every step Arisa took seemed calculated, yet effortless, like she owned the space without even trying. The pile of love letters at her desk didn't faze her. She glanced down, picked one up, then casually tore it in half before tossing it onto the floor, her expression unreadable. Rafael's pulse spiked. A 100/100 baddie, he thought, grinning like a fool.
Tony nudged him, whispering with wide eyes, "Bro… she's unreal. Who even dares approach her?"
"Don't need to approach," Rafael muttered, voice low, almost to himself. "I just need to hold her attention… once." His eyes flicked to the other boys crowded near the entrance, every one of them gawking at her as though she were a rare jewel. Max, their so-called bookworm, sat frozen, notebook halfway in the air, lips parted in disbelief. Two multimillionaire idiots like Rafael and Tony couldn't care less about rules or norms; Max, however, looked like he might combust from sheer mortification.
"Seriously, Max, why even try?" Tony whispered, smirking. "She's untouchable. Like… untouchable-untouchable."
Rafael's gaze didn't leave Arisa. Her hair shimmered pink in the classroom light, cascading over her shoulders in messy, perfectly tousled layers. The curve of her neck, the way her uniform hugged her—everything screamed dangerous perfection. She moved with calculated grace, brushing a stray hair behind her ear, eyes scanning her surroundings. And her gaze, Rafael realized, could pierce through anyone if she wanted.
He leaned forward slightly, heart hammering. Even a million dollars couldn't buy this one. The thought made him smirk. Around them, other boys began whispering about her wealth, her beauty, and the impossible standards she set. But Rafael didn't care. Money, influence, fame—it meant nothing compared to her.
Arisa, meanwhile, was silently calculating. She knew every pair of eyes on her, and she let a few minutes pass before acknowledging any of them. It was a game, a subtle power display. Every glance, every half-smile, every flick of her hand held meaning. She wasn't naïve; she had learned to survive in a world that never seemed to forgive weakness.
"See that?" Tony whispered, motioning to Arisa's desk. "She just rejected twenty guys at once. Twenty. In one move."
"Yeah…" Max muttered, "And she didn't even break a sweat."
Rafael's mind wandered for the briefest moment to that afternoon at McDonald's—the casual way she had worked, the efficiency in her movements, the faint blush that surfaced when she caught him staring. That image, harmless as it seemed, ignited something deeper in him. I need her. No one else matters.
A sudden burst of laughter from one of the other students snapped him back. Arisa's friends were watching her with envy and admiration, whispering among themselves. But she remained untouched by their chatter, fully focused on her own rhythm, her own logic. Even now, Rafael could sense her boundaries, her self-awareness, and her calculated risk-taking.
He leaned back against the wall, chest tight with excitement and frustration. How do you even approach someone like her? he wondered. The answer eluded him, but that only fueled his desire. It wasn't just attraction; it was a challenge, a puzzle that he refused to set down.
"Bro…" Tony's voice was tinged with awe, "you're seriously thinking of… her?"
Rafael smirked, eyes never leaving Arisa. "Not thinking… planning."
And as the bell rang, signaling the start of class, Rafael's focus sharpened. Every movement, every flick of her gaze, every subtle interaction was a piece of the puzzle he intended to solve. He didn't care about obstacles. He didn't care about limits. Because right now, nothing else existed in his world except that pink-haired, blue-eyed enigma sitting at her desk—his ultimate target.
The bell echoed through the classroom, but Rafael barely noticed. All he could see was Arisa, the way she adjusted her uniform, the faint shimmer of pink strands that caught the sunlight streaming through the window. Tony, leaning against the wall, whispered, "Bro… every guy in this class is going to collapse if she even glances at them."
"I don't care," Rafael muttered, eyes fixed. "It's her I need to focus on. Everyone else? Just noise."
Arisa, seated at the front, opened her notebook, flipping it with precise, deliberate movements. She didn't acknowledge the whispers around her. Not once. Her friends—five girls, all with whispers of envy and admiration—tried subtle gestures to get her attention, but Arisa ignored them, focused entirely on the sheet music in front of her. Every gesture, every glance was calculated; every move screamed control and intelligence far beyond her years.
Rafael's pulse spiked again. How can someone be this perfect and untouchable at the same time?
Tony nudged him, smirking. "Bro, she's literally a walking trap. You know what I mean?"
Rafael didn't answer. He was already plotting. Observing her during piano practice, during her brief glances toward the window, the way she moved her fingers over the keys—it all added up. He didn't care about anyone else. He didn't care about the money, the fame, the influence. He just needed to hold her attention, even for a second.
Arisa, meanwhile, had noticed the slight shift in Rafael's stance. She tilted her head, her blue eyes flicking toward him for a fraction of a second, enough to send a shiver down his spine. She knows, he thought. She knows exactly how powerful her presence is. And Rafael grinned, almost smugly. That's the challenge he craved.
Max, sitting two rows behind, scribbled furiously in his notebook, muttering calculations and observations about Arisa's movements. But Rafael barely noticed him. Max was smart, sure, but he had no instinct for the chaos, for the raw magnetism Arisa exuded. Tony, sitting beside Rafael, was already imagining what moves to make if Rafael got stuck. She's untouchable, but we've got to plan…
Class ended, and as the students shuffled out, Rafael's gaze never left Arisa. He followed her steps at a discreet distance—her backpack slung casually over one shoulder, the slight sway of her hair as she walked. He noticed how some of her friends whispered, trailing behind her. But Rafael saw the bigger picture: she wasn't just beautiful; she was alert, calculating, aware of every potential danger. And that made her even more irresistible.
"She's like… perfect," Tony whispered. "Like, unreal."
"Yeah," Rafael said, voice low. "And she doesn't even know how dangerous she is to people like us."
Arisa walked past the school gate and into a quieter street. Rafael followed, heart hammering. This wasn't stalking—it was strategy. Every step she took, every glance she made, added to the map he was building in his mind. He noticed a subtle limp in her coat, a tear near the shoulder. She's had a rough day. That's… interesting.
Rafael slowed his pace, making sure not to startle her, but his mind raced. She was smart, cautious, and aware. She could detect any unusual movement in a second. But he also knew one thing: once she notices me, nothing will stop me.
Tony leaned closer, whispering, "Bro… what if she actually notices? She could—"
"Let her notice," Rafael interrupted sharply. "I want her to notice. I want her thinking about me, wondering why I'm here. That's step one."
And as Arisa turned the corner, seemingly unaware of the two boys trailing her, Rafael's eyes burned with determination. Nothing else mattered in that moment. Not rules, not morals, not consequences. Just her.
Because in Rafael's mind, there was only one truth: Arisa wasn't just another girl. She was the ultimate prize, and he wasn't about to let anything—or anyone—take her from him.
Arisa had barely stepped inside the McDonald's when Rafael's eyes narrowed. The place smelled of fries, burgers, and the faint hint of cleaning solution. But he didn't care about the food. His gaze was locked on her—the way her pink hair bounced slightly as she moved, the confident yet cautious way she balanced trays and orders, the subtle grace in each gesture.
Tony whispered beside him, voice low and shaky. "Bro… she's really… working here?"
"Yeah," Rafael muttered, jaw tight. "And that's exactly why she's priceless."
Arisa moved efficiently, a practiced smile on her face as she handed orders to customers. One glance at her uniform, slightly stained from the rush of the lunch hour, and Rafael's pulse spiked. It wasn't just her appearance. It was the contrast—a top-tier student, rich academy background, and here she was, navigating the chaos of fast food like a pro.
Tony leaned closer, whispering, "Bro… we've got to approach carefully. If we scare her, she'll—"
Rafael waved him off. "No. She'll notice me regardless. I need her to see me, to feel me there, but I won't act like some random customer. That's step one."
He approached, hands tucked casually into his pockets, exuding confidence. Arisa, noticing a new customer at the counter, glanced up briefly. Her blue eyes met his, and for a heartbeat, Rafael froze. There it is. That recognition. That calculation.
"Uh… hello," he said, voice steady but betraying a hint of awe.
Arisa's smile was polite, professional, almost rehearsed. "Welcome! May I take your order?"
Rafael's mind raced. He had rehearsed this moment a dozen times, yet seeing her here, so real and yet untouchable, made every strategy evaporate. He cleared his throat. "I… uh… I'll have… whatever you recommend."
Her eyebrow quirked slightly, noting the hesitation but continuing her professional mask. "We have the classic burger combo, or the new spicy chicken special. Would you like fries with that?"
Tony and Max, standing a discreet distance away, were whispering fervently into their comms. "Bro… you really think you can pull this? She's in public, people are watching!"
Rafael's focus didn't waver. "Ignore them," he muttered under his breath. "It's between her and me."
Arisa prepared the order efficiently, placing it on the tray, her movements precise. Rafael's eyes inadvertently traced the curve of her hands, the angle of her shoulders, the subtle sway of her form as she moved. It was impossible to look away.
Tony nudged him. "Bro… she's just taking your order…"
"Exactly," Rafael whispered, teeth clenched. "Just. But everything about her… it's everything."
Arisa handed him the tray. "Here's your order. Enjoy your meal." Her tone was flawless—professional, polite, detached. Yet Rafael could sense the underlying strength, the intelligence, the awareness that she had noticed him, that she understood there was more than casual attention in his gaze.
He nodded, pretending calm. "Thanks. Really appreciate it."
As she turned back to the counter, Rafael took a step closer. "Hey… Arisa," he said, just loud enough for her to hear.
She paused, not turning around immediately. Her blue eyes flicked over her shoulder, assessing him. Rafael could see the calculation—the mental checklist running through her mind. He smiled faintly, heart hammering. She's evaluating me. Perfect.
Tony whispered from behind, almost inaudible. "Bro… you're crazy. She's gonna—"
"Shh," Rafael hissed. "Just… watch."
Arisa returned to her duties, but Rafael's mind was already planning the next steps. Her intelligence, her composure under stress, the effortless control she held over every situation—it only fueled his obsession. He wasn't here for the meal. He was here for her.
And as she moved through the small restaurant, balancing trays and smiles, Rafael knew one thing with absolute certainty: no matter the obstacles, no matter the risks, he would get her. One way or another, she would belong to him.
Even if it meant ignoring every rule, every consequence.