Morning sunlight spilled through the wide windows of the Kimura mansion, painting soft golden lines across the spotless marble floors. The house was so quiet you could hear the soft ticking of the antique clock in the hallway.

Upstairs, in a room so clean it looked like it belonged in a showroom, Sakura Kimura was already awake.

Her alarm clock had gone off exactly at 6:30 a.m. — not a minute earlier, not a minute late. She sat on her bed, back straight, adjusting the cuffs of her uniform blazer with surgical precision. Her books were stacked by size on her desk. Her pens were lined up in color order. The curtains were perfectly folded back, not a wrinkle in sight.

Yeah. She was that kind of person.

“Okay, Sakura,” she muttered to herself in the mirror as she smoothed her skirt. “First day. New class. Just stay focused. Don’t let anyone distract you.”

She straightened her tie. Once. Twice. A third time just to make sure.

See....

Sakura was what some people might call a bit of a neat freak. Others would say a total perfectionist. Either way, she liked things a certain way.

She opened the top drawer of her vanity. Inside was a perfectly arranged lineup of hair clips, combs, and makeup products. She selected each item with practiced movements, not wasting a single second.

Downstairs, the faint smell of fresh toast and miso soup drifted up.

“Miss Sakura, breakfast is ready,” called one of the maids softly from the hallway.

“Coming!” Sakura replied, slipping on her socks and adjusting the line so the seams were straight — yes, she checked.

By the time she descended the grand staircase, her father was already seated at the long dining table, scrolling through morning reports on a tablet.

“Good morning, Father,” she greeted politely, taking her seat.

“Morning,” he replied, glancing up briefly. “Big day today, hm?”

“Mm.” She sipped her tea. “New class, same goals.”

He gave her a small approving nod. Mr. Kimura wasn’t the overly affectionate type, but he respected his daughter’s determination. She’d always been like this—sharp, focused, almost too mature for her age.

Ever since Sakura’s mother passed away when she was little, the house had been quiet. Too quiet sometimes. Her father buried himself in work, and Sakura… she buried herself in achievement. Studying, competing, excelling. It became her way of filling the silence.

After breakfast, Sakura walked down the long stone pathway toward the front gate where their black sedan waited. She waved lightly to the gardener trimming the hedges, which were so neatly shaped it was almost scary.

The mansion wasn’t just a house — it was like a statement: clean lines, modern glass, expensive stone, the kind of place that smelled old money without needing to show off.

The chauffeur opened the car door for her.

“Good morning, Miss Sakura.”

“Morning,” she said politely, sliding into the back seat.

As the car drove toward Seonghwa High, she opened her notebook to review formulas she’d already memorized. Quadratic equations, language notes, history dates. She wasn’t the kind of girl to scroll through social media before class; she was the kind of girl who rewrote her notes because she needed to keep track of everything.

She liked order. She needed it.

As Seonghwa High’s campus came into view, Sakura closed her notebook and exhaled slowly.

“Alright,” she whispered to herself. “New class. It’s just school. You’ve got this.”Sakura felt a bit nervous as she got out of the car, but she kept her head up as she enters the school's gates, unsure of what to come inside the school.

And for someone like Sakura — neat, brilliant, perfectionist Sakura — chaos was the one thing she never planned for.

Sakura pushed open the door to 2-F and immediately wanted to disappear. The room was chaos incarnate. Loud music blared from someone’s phone, a kid was half-sitting, half-lying on a desk scrolling TikTok, and a paper plane whizzed past her ear like a guided missile.

“Holy hell,” she muttered under her breath.

A blond kid with this smug-ass grin leaned back in his chair, feet on the desk. “Yo, look who crawled into the lovely classroom ” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “Fresh meat, huh?”

Sakura clenched her fists at her sides. “I’m not… meat,” she said stiffly. Her voice sounded tiny in the loud classroom.

“Cute. Says the perfect little nerd,” he snorted.

Someone behind him snorted and added, “Yeah, welcome to hell, princess.”

Her cheeks burned, but Sakura didn’t back down. She scanned the classroom: desks scratched and dented, sticky notes covering half the walls, and a weird pile of sneakers in one corner like a bad art project. A doodle of their teacher with a mustache was taped crookedly on the whiteboard.

She smoothed her blazer, sat down at the first desk that wasn’t covered in something sticky, and neatly put down her bag. Pens in a line. Notebook open, pages crisp. This is the only thing I can control, she thought.

A lanky kid shoved past her, skateboard under arm. “Watch it, princess,” he muttered with a grin, bumping her shoulder.

“Excuse me,” she said, adjusting her bag. “Please be careful.”

The kid laughed. “Or what? Are you gonna file a complaint? Chill, newbie.”

Sakura’s teeth ground together. Chill. Right. That’s easy here.

Just then....

Mr. Han finally wandered in like he’d just rolled out of bed, coffee in hand. “Alright, gremlins. New girl’s here. Be nice… or don’t. Whatever.”

“Uh, sir,” Sakura said, standing politely. “I’m Sakura Kimura. I’ll—uh—try to get along with everyone this semester.”

A slow clap rang out from the back. Someone hooted. Blond Kid leaned forward, elbows on knees, grinning. “Ohhh, she said ‘get along.’ Guys, we got a speechmaker!”

“Sit down, princess,” someone else shouted from the back. “This ain’t Hogwarts.”

Sakura’s face heated. She sank into her seat but didn’t close her notebook. These idiots… She opened her book as Mr Han gave them all the papers.

"Here's your homework for today complete or not, it's your marks that will suffer, not mine." Mr Han announced as he gave each desk a paper, then sulked back into his desk, putting his head on the table

Just then, the door flies wide open,,, and a boy stands there with a calm gaze as he speaks.

" Looks like I'm late to the party. Sorry about it, teach. Practice went on a little longer than I planned for."

The boy exclaimed as he entered the classroom.

"Just sit down, Mr Nakahara," Mr Han said from his desk as he glanced up to receive the paper the boy had handed him.

"Wait... Nakahara, isn't that the name of that billionaire my father's collaborating with......" Sakura thinks as she observes the young boy casually sit down a row beside hers smirking as he pulls out his phone.

And I'm here with his son!