Popular seniors, caring brothers.

During the break, Kiara approached Eron after noticing he hadn't made any effort to talk to her.

"Hi, I'm Kiara," she introduced herself with a polite smile.

Before Eron could respond, his bench mate answered instead. "Hey! I'm Antony," he said enthusiastically, grinning at her. Clearly drawn in by her charm, he gestured toward Eron. "And this is Eron."

Eron barely glanced up from his book. "Hi."

That was it. One word. No follow-up. No effort to continue the conversation. He simply went back to reading, as if she wasn't standing there.

An awkward silence settled between them. Wanting to lighten the mood, Kiara's gaze fell on the sketchbook resting on Eron's desk. "Can I take a look? I love art too." She reached toward it.

Before she could touch it, Eron placed his hand over the sketchbook and pulled it toward him. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable.

Kiara blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the abruptness of his reaction.

Antony, sensing the tension, quickly jumped in. "Oh, uh… yeah, that's his. He doesn't like people touching his stuff." He chuckled awkwardly, trying to smooth over the situation.

Feeling a little embarrassed, Kiara backed off and returned to her seat. But still, something about Eron's distant nature piqued her interest.

...

As soon as Kiara walked away, Antony nudged Eron excitedly.

"She's really pretty, right?" he whispered, still looking in Kiara's direction.

Eron turned a page in his book without looking up. "She's just normal."

Antony gaped at him. "Normal? Are you serious?!"

Eron finally glanced at him, unimpressed.

"Then what's pretty in your eyes? Come on, tell me—what's your standard of beauty?"

Eron thought for a moment, then replied calmly, "Blue eyes, like the ocean. Wavy black hair. Small pink lips." His voice remained matter of fact, like he was describing a painting. "But more than that, she should be captivating—someone so mesmerizing you can't look away."

He turned another page in his book, as if that was the end of the discussion. "She doesn't come close to that."

Antony raised an eyebrow. "Damn, that's specific. Are you sure you're not describing someone in particular?"

Before Eron could answer, a familiar voice interrupted.

"Eron."

At the sound of his name, Eron immediately looked up. His previously blank expression softened as he saw Aryan standing at the door, a small but genuine smile automatically spread across his face. Seeing him gestured to come out.

Eron didn't hesitate. He closed his book, got up, and walked toward him.

...

As soon as Aryan entered, whispers erupted across the classroom.

"Wow… isn't that Senior Aryan?" a girl murmured excitedly.

"And Marco is with him too!" another added.

Aryan and Marco—both star players on the basketball team and two of the most admired seniors—naturally drew attention wherever they went. Their presence alone was enough to stir excitement, especially among the girls.

"No wonder Eron has such high beauty standards," Antony muttered as he watched Eron walk toward Aryan. "Being around such handsome brothers, it makes sense."

...

"Here, I brought this for you." Aryan, slightly out of breath, handed Eron a new record book and a geometry box. "Why didn't you remind me this morning? I almost forgot."

Eron took the items, glancing at them before frowning slightly. "Why did you buy a new one? I could've just taken your old set."

Aryan rolled his eyes. "I didn't know you were so attached to that half-broken protractor and rusty compass." He crossed his arms, smirking. "Can't you just take something new without complaining? You sound like a budget-conscious grandpa." He playfully smacked Eron's arm, making Marco chuckle.

Even Aryan struggled to keep a straight face.

Just then, the school bell rang, signaling the end of the break. Marco and Aryan turned to leave, heading back to their class.

Eron watched them go, his eyes lingering on Aryan's retreating figure until they disappeared from sight.

...

Curious, Kiara turned to her desk mate. "Why do those seniors come here?"

Her desk mate glanced at her. "That's Aryan, Eron's older brother. And the other guy is Marco, his friend. They drop by often to check on him." She sighed before adding. "He's lucky to have such a good brother. My own brother is completely useless."

Kiara's gaze flickered toward Eron. "They don't look alike," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

"That's because Aryan is adopted," a girl from the row behind them chimed in, clearly eavesdropping.

Kiara's desk mate shot the girl a warning look. "Shut up. Don't spoke something you weren't aware."

"Why should I?" the girl scoffed. "It's the truth. Isn't that why he keeps trying to please Eron all the time? Rich people always have such leeches following them around."

Kiara frowned slightly. "Is Eron rich?" she asked, her curiosity deepening.

"Damn rich," the girl smirked. "Ever heard of DV Constructions? He's the heir."

Kiara's gaze flickered toward Eron once more. Her curiosity in him wasn't just passing anymore—it had become something serious.

After that day, Kiara started paying closer attention to Eron. Slowly she learned the so-called cold prince was actually a secret heartthrob of many girls. With his sharp looks, top grades, and wealthy background, he had everything that made him the perfect crush.

Days went by, and then, one afternoon—

"Eron, I got these for you."

Rithma, the same girl who had given him a letter before, stood in front of him again, holding out a small box of sweets.

"I don't like sweet things," Eron replied flatly, not even sparing the box a glance. His tone was indifferent, and the rejection was as public as it could get.

After school, Kiara and a few friends, including Rithma, were walking toward the bus stop when they spotted Eron sitting inside a pastry shop. He was with Aryan and Marco, casually eating pastries, completely unaware of their presence.

Kiara frowned. "Didn't he say he doesn't like sweets?" she muttered.

"He lied," Rithma whispered, her voice shaky.

"Maybe he just doesn't like that particular kind," one of their friends offered, trying to comfort her.

But Rithma just stood there, staring at Eron, realization dawning on her. "He didn't even look at it before rejecting me."

Her voice cracked, and tears welled up in her eyes. Without another word, she turned and walked away, unable to face her friends.

Meanwhile, inside the pastry shop...

"He doesn't like sweets, so why did we end up with three slices of cake?" Marco asked, eyeing the overloaded table with an annoyed expression.

"Because I want to eat," Aryan replied casually as he set the tray down. "And there was a special offer—buy two, get one free. It applies to both cakes and shakes. Right, Eron?"

"Yep," Eron nodded without hesitation.

Marco let out a sigh. "Yep? Seriously? I don't get it. Why does your whole family spoil this guy so much?" He muttered under his breath, watching Eron go along with Aryan's antics.

Aryan took a bite of his cake, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction. Then, turning to Eron, he scooped up a spoonful and held it out. "Say ahh!"

Eron hesitated for a moment before taking the bite.

"How is it?" Aryan asked expectantly.

"…Good," Eron replied, even though he didn't actually like sweets. Seeing Aryan's eager face, he couldn't bring himself to complain.

Marco shook his head in disbelief. "So, you really just eat whatever he feeds you?"

Aryan, ignoring Marco's comment, scooped up another piece and held it up to Eron's lips. Just as Eron leaned in to take it, Aryan suddenly pulled it away.

"How many times have I told you?" Aryan said, shaking his head. "Learn to say no when you don't want something. Otherwise, people will take advantage of you… like I just did."

Marco, watching from the side, snorted. "Oh, so you do know what you're doing."

His remark earned him a sharp glare from Aryan, making him lower his head immediately.

Aryan pushed a different plate toward Eron. "This one's blueberry cake—less sugar. If you don't like it, you don't have to finish it. I have plenty of space in my stomach." His tone was light, making sure Eron knew it was okay to refuse.

Eron paused, a strange warmth settling in his chest. "Brother…" he murmured, touched by the gesture.

Before the moment could linger, Marco suddenly reached over and stole a huge spoonful of Aryan's cake. In an instant, half of it was gone.

"You damn beggar…" Aryan slammed his spoon down, his expression darkening with murder in his eyes.

Marco barely had time to react before Aryan lunged at him. What followed was an all-too-predictable battle—one where Marco, without a doubt, ended up with a bruised eye and zero cake.