The cafeteria's industrial ice machine finally choked out its last cube. Tae snatched the dangling 'Out of Order' sign and crumpled it into her stained lab coat pocket.

Principal Jeon Jungkook entered the packed auditorium. Professors fidgeted in stiff suits, students murmured behind them. Kook scanned the room, shoulders rigid under his tailored blazer. His polished shoes clicked on the stage steps.

Tae pushed through the velvet curtain. Her sequined mini-dress barely covered her thighs. Silver heels made her legs look endless. The fabric clung tight to every curve, shimmering under the harsh stage lights. She swayed toward the podium. Her perfume—something sweet and heavy—reached Kook first.

"Welcome, Principal Jeon," Tae purred into the microphone. Her pink lips curved. "Our university loves fresh blood." She leaned forward slowly. The neckline plunged, revealing smooth white skin.

Kook froze. His knuckles whitened on the lectern’s edge. Her low voice hummed through the speakers. "We’re so thrilled you chose us." A collective breath held in the silent hall. Tae traced the microphone stand with one finger. Her nails gleamed candy-apple red.

Kook’s gaze stayed locked on her face. A muscle twitched in his jaw. He didn’t blink. Sweat glistened above his collar. Her hips shifted as she adjusted the mic. The sequins caught the light like shattered glass.

Tae smiled wider. Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. She murmured just for him now, voice like thick honey. "Hope you’re ready for an... unforgettable semester."

Jeon Jungkook swallowed hard. The scent of her perfume—vanilla layered over something darker, muskier—filled his nostrils, drowning out the dusty auditorium smell. He could see the frantic pulse beating at the base of her throat, the faint sheen of sweat where her cleavage deepened beneath the strained sequins. His own heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He hadn't expected this.

The rumors whispered in hushed tones during his orientation—Professor Kim Taehyung’s ‘unconventional teaching methods’—suddenly felt terrifyingly real, visceral. He forced his eyes away from the hypnotic swell of her breasts straining against the fabric, back up to her face. Her dark eyes held his, amused and predatory.

A muffled snicker broke the silence somewhere in the back row. Kook flinched, snapping his gaze towards the sound, a flush creeping up his neck. His knuckles were bone-white where he gripped the lectern’s polished wood. He needed control. Authority. This was his university now.

Tae chuckled softly into the microphone, the sound vibrating low and intimate. She leaned back slightly, shifting her weight to one hip. The movement made the flimsy dress ride higher, flashing a glimpse of pale, smooth thigh. Kook’s breath hitched. Her gaze didn’t waver; it was a challenge, a dare. He could feel hundreds of eyes flickering between them, absorbing the electric tension crackling on the stage.

"Perhaps," Tae continued smoothly, her voice dripping with false sweetness, "our new principal would like to share his vision?" She gestured towards him with a graceful wave of her crimson-tipped fingers. The spotlight caught the glitter on her eyelids. "We’re all... eager to learn." She lingered on the word ‘eager’, letting it hang in the air, thick with unspoken meaning.

Kook stared at the microphone she relinquished. It felt like a live wire. The silence stretched, taut and suffocating. He could hear his own pulse roaring in his ears, see the expectant tilt of Tae’s head, the knowing curve of her painted mouth. He took a single, ragged breath. He had to speak. He had to reclaim this stage. But the words tangled in his dry throat, choked by the overpowering presence of the woman beside him, radiating heat and defiance. His vision narrowed, focusing solely on that mocking pink mouth, waiting for him to stumble.

He stepped forward, his polished heel echoing sharply in the hushed auditorium. His hand brushed hers as he took the microphone – a fleeting, electric contact that made her knuckles brush his knuckles. She didn’t retreat. Her skin was unnaturally warm. He forced his gaze upward, past the dangerous swell of her breasts outlined starkly by the tight sequins, past the fluttering pulse in her throat, locking onto her dark, amused eyes.

"Discipline," he finally managed, his voice rasping out, deeper than he intended, rough-edged. "Structure." The words felt heavy, inadequate against her performance. He cleared his throat. "Excellence." He saw her eyebrow arch ever so slightly, a silent scoff at his rigid pronouncement. Her perfume, vanilla mingled with something primal and dark, coiled around him, invading his senses. It smelled like expensive sin.

A ripple went through the crowd – a shifting of weight, a stifled cough. Kook sensed their judgment, their curiosity morphing into something else. Anticipation? Amusement? His jaw clenched. He wouldn’t be made a fool. He pivoted slightly towards the audience, projecting his voice harder, ignoring the biologist’s predatory stillness beside him.

"This university will operate with integrity," he declared, the words ringing hollowly under the bright lights. "Professionalism will be paramount." He dared a glance sideways. Tae was examining her nails, feigning boredom, but her posture remained coiled, powerful. The flush crept higher on his neck. He could feel the slickness of sweat beneath his crisp collar. He was drowning on dry land.