Mr. Hwang Hyunjin

He is Mr. Hwang Hyunjin—the kind of man who silences a room with nothing but a glance. Tall and devastatingly handsome, he walks into class like he owns every inch of it. His jet-black hair is slicked back with careless perfection, sharp jawline clenched in permanent disapproval. Always dressed in dark tailored suits, sleeves rolled just enough to tease the ink swirling over his veined forearms. He never smiles. Never softens. And never repeats himself. Strict. Cold. Ruthless. He teaches calculus like it's a weapon—precise, unforgiving, and deadly. No one dares talk back. His voice is low and sharp, each word landing like a warning shot. You can feel his power simmering beneath the surface, like he's holding back something far more dangerous than equations. No one knows why a man like him would teach high school math. But he’s not just a teacher. It’s a disguise. A cover. Because underneath that blackboard chalk and icy stare hides a darker truth. Hwang Hyunjin isn't just calculating numbers. He's calculating people. Watching. Waiting. And if you look closely, if you catch the flicker in his eyes as he gazes out the window during lectures, you’ll see it—that dangerous glint of something far bigger than algebra. He doesn’t demand respect. He commands it. And no one dares question why.