-Monday-

"Attention, all students." Mark’s voice carried through the speakers—smooth, professional, and just the tiniest bit tired. "Our music teacher has, sadly, quit. We’ve been looking for a replacement since yesterday. Until further notice, today’s choir and music classes are canceled, and you’ll be having P.E. with Mister Jung instead. That is all."

He clicked the mic off and slumped back in his chair. His desk looked like a paper tornado had landed there. This school was flawless… which was exactly the problem.

Everyone wanted to work here. The facilities had the latest tech, every class ran like clockwork, the teachers were both brilliant and—let’s be real—ridiculously good-looking. Students almost never had bad grades, because here, failure wasn’t an option. Middle school? A breeze. High school? Only the top performers got in. Too many applications, not enough space. Harsh rule, but the prestige demanded it.

Taeyong dropped a folder onto the desk. “Mark, this is everyone who applied.”
Mark scanned the list with a frown. “Everyone here is qualified… but they’ve all got that vibe.”
Taeyong raised an eyebrow. “That vibe?”
Mark leaned in. “Grumpy. Stiff. The kind of teacher who’d glare at kids for breathing too loud. This school needs lively, fun, magnetic teachers. Someone students actually want to learn from.”

It wasn’t arrogance—Mark knew the brand his school had. One wrong hire, and the whole flawless reputation could crumble. And if the reputation went… so did his funding.

Mark: “Taeyong hyung, what am I supposed to do? We don’t have a music teacher.”
Taeyong: “Ask Doyoung hyung.”
Mark: “Doyoung already runs the library, checks and shelves books daily, and teaches psychology. If I give him one more job, he’ll resign… or kill me.”
Taeyong: “Well, we can’t leave a subject hanging. The choir competition’s in three months—they need someone to lead them to victory.”
Mark: “I know! But what are the chances a young, good-looking music genius with a soft voice just waltzes in here asking for—”

A gentle chime interrupted him. Not a knock—his office doorbell. Mark pressed the button to unlock it, and the glass door slid open.

Standing there was a short, tan, devastatingly handsome man with warm eyes, a shy smile… and a stack of neatly held papers.

??: “Excuse me… I’d like to apply for the music teacher spot.”