Ranking as the No. 1 Heir

THE ORIENTATION

Elena Kim’s morning began with betrayal. Not from a person, oh no, that would have been too expected. From her alarm clock.

The old, plastic thing had one job: screech at six a.m. sharp. Instead, it gave up on life somewhere in the night, probably exhausted like her, and chose death over duty. By the time Elena’s eyes cracked open to the weak sunlight slipping through the window, the cheap clock on her desk smugly blinked 8:42 a.m.

“WHAT?” she shrieked, belting upright.

Her younger sister Hana groaned from the mattress on the floor. “If you’re going to die, please do it quietly. Some of us still have dreams to dream.”

“No, no, no, no,” Elena whispered in panic, tripping over her blanket and hopping around the room like a half-dressed penguin. “Orientation! My first day at the university, Hana, the university! I can’t show up late, I’ll be murdered. They’ll revoke my scholarship. We’ll be poor forever. Mom will cry. Dad will haunt me from the rice field. This is how my life ends!”

Hana cracked one eye open. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? I’m being realistic!” Elena scrambled into her uniform blouse, backward at first, then corrected it while nearly choking. Her reflection in the cracked mirror looked like someone who had been dragged through a tornado and spat out. She yanked her hair into a messy bun, sighed at the strands sticking out like rebellious weeds, and muttered, “Fine. I’m going for the ‘I survived war’ look.”

“Classic you,” Hana mumbled, rolling over.

Elena darted into the kitchen, grabbed the cold rice from last night, stuffed a bite into her mouth, and burned her tongue. “Ow! Hot, no, cold, ew! Why does cold rice taste like sadness?” She shoved the bowl aside, grabbed her bag (already overstuffed with notebooks, pens, and unnecessary survival items like a sewing kit she’d panicked into packing), and stormed out the door.

The bus rattled along, every bump making Elena’s stomach churn. She pressed her forehead to the cool window, muttering her pep talk.

“You belong here. You earned this. Okay, maybe you almost fainted during the interview, but still. You earned this. Don’t panic. Don’t puke. Don’t….”

Her phone buzzed. A text from her friend Jina.

“Are you alive? Orientation’s today. Also, people are STILL talking about what you did yesterday.”

Elena groaned. Of course they are.

Yesterday had been her grand, unplanned debut. She hadn’t meant to start her university life by standing up to Adrian Park, the Adrian Park, heir of Senator Richard Park, owner of the kind of face sculptors would cry over. But when he tried to cut the line at the cafeteria, her stubborn mouth had opened before her brain could stop it.

And just like that, her name had traveled through campus faster than free Wi-Fi.

Meanwhile, Across Town

Adrian Park had been awake since before dawn.

Sleep rarely lingered long in his house. His father’s voice still echoed from the night before: “Don’t embarrass me, Adrian. You are not just a student. You are the senator’s heir. Behave as such.”

Adrian sat by the wide window of his room, fencing sword leaning in the corner, untouched. The city stretched below, sprawling and busy, but it felt like a cage. His schedule had already been handed to him, his classes carefully curated by his father’s advisors. The scholarship orientation was on today’s agenda, not that it mattered to him. He wasn’t one of them. He didn’t belong in a room of students clutching at scraps his father’s foundation threw their way.

He almost smirked at the thought. His father loved scholarships because they made him look benevolent. Adrian knew better. He always knew.

Still, something restless gnawed at him. A curiosity. Yesterday’s incident replayed in his head. The girl who stood in his way, small, stubborn, with fire in her eyes that didn’t belong to someone who was supposed to cower.

He hadn’t even remembered her name. But her face? It had burned itself into his memory.

The bus was late. Of course it was.

Elena tapped her foot furiously, clutching the strap of her bag like it owed her money. Every passing second felt like another nail in her academic coffin.

When the bus finally groaned to a stop, she leapt in, found a seat near the window, and muttered, “If anyone asks, I was early. The world was just late.”

She tried to calm her racing heart, but as the tall gates of the prestigious university loomed closer, her panic returned tenfold. The campus was massive, marble buildings towering like castles, fountains sparkling under the sun, students strutting in designer clothes as if a runway show was permanently in progress. Elena clutched her faded backpack tighter and whispered, “Don’t panic. You earned this. Kind of. Maybe. Please don’t throw up.”

When she walked through the gate, the difference in worlds hit her harder than any insult. Girls with glossy hair laughed with each other, their perfume cloud following like royalty. Boys leaned against shiny cars that looked more expensive than her family’s entire house. Eyes lingered on her thrift-store shoes, her worn-out bag, and her very existence.

“Elena Kim,” she told herself under her breath, “welcome to the Hunger Games.”

The hall was an ocean of polished shoes, sharp blazers, and whispers. Elena slid into a seat near the back, clutching the welcome pamphlet like it was a shield. The stage gleamed under the spotlights, a banner stretched across:

WELCOME, SCHOLARSHIP STUDENTS, A NEW LEGACY BEGINS

Elena adjusted her bag strap nervously, muttering, “A new legacy? Yeah, right. More like free marketing for the senator.”

She found Jina and Min, her fellow scholarship friends, waving at her.

“You made it!” Jina whispered as Elena collapsed into the seat beside her. “Barely.”

“You have no idea,” Elena wheezed.

Min smirked. “Forget being late, do you know everyone’s still talking about you and Adrian Park?”

Elena groaned. “Please don’t remind me.”

Jina leaned closer, eyes wide. “Elena, you don’t get it. People don’t just talk back to him. He’s practically royalty here.”

“Royalty?” Elena scoffed. “More like a spoiled prince who thinks the world owes him crowns.”

“Shh!” Jina hissed. “Don’t say that here. These walls have ears.”

As if summoned, a ripple of excitement ran through the hall. Heads turned. The doors opened.

Adrian Park walked in.

The air shifted instantly. Students sat straighter. Girls giggled behind manicured hands. Even professors seemed to glance up with extra approval.

Adrian’s steps were unhurried, deliberate. His expression was carved from stone, jaw sharp, eyes unreadable. He didn’t need to look around to know he owned the room.

Elena tried not to notice. Tried and failed.

Jina elbowed her. “Don’t even think about it.”

“I’m not thinking about anything,” Elena muttered, staring at the pamphlet in her lap. “I’m a rock. A pebble. A…..”

Her words died when she realized Adrian’s eyes had brushed her way. Just for a second. Long enough to acknowledge. Long enough to remember.

Her stomach flipped.

From the front row, Adrian allowed himself the smallest glance.

There she was. The girl from yesterday. Sitting stiffly, trying to disappear, failing spectacularly.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t react. But something about her presence scratched at the edges of his carefully built detachment.

What are you doing here, scholarship girl?. she didn’t reply, she just stared at him

The dean droned on about excellence, gratitude, opportunity. The students clapped at the right moments.

Then came introductions. One by one, scholarship students stood, said their name, and shared their dream.

When Elena’s turn arrived, she nearly swallowed her tongue.

“Uh, hi. I’m Elena Kim. My dream is… um… to graduate with honors. And to keep my sanity while I’m at it.”

A few chuckles rippled through the hall. Elena sat down, face burning.

She dared a glance forward. Adrian hadn’t moved, but his jaw twitched, as though fighting a smirk.

The doors opened again. In walked Sophia Han.

If the hall had been buzzing before, now it practically sang. Sophia was a vision, hair glossy, outfit pristine, smile calculated to kill. She glided down the aisle and slid into the seat beside Adrian without asking.

“Elena,” Jina whispered. “That’s her. The queen bee. The one rumored to have dated Adrian.”

Sophia leaned close to Adrian, laughter like wind chimes. Adrian didn’t respond, eyes fixed ahead, but Sophia’s hand lingered on his sleeve.

Elena looked away, rolling her eyes. Figures.

The Whispered Attack

When the orientation ended, the hall erupted in chatter. Students formed groups, alliances already sparking.

Elena tried to slip out quietly, but Sophia’s voice sliced through the noise.

“She doesn’t even know who she’s talking to,” Sophia sneered, loud enough for half the hall to hear. Her sharp gaze landed on Elena. “She’s just a scholarship student. Nothing. A poor wrench.”

The words stung. Elena froze, throat tight.

Before she could retort, Adrian moved.

He didn’t look at Sophia. He didn’t speak. But his eyes, sharp, cold, unyielding, cut to her like a blade.

Sophia faltered. The venom in her smirk slipped. For the first time all day, she looked unsure.

Adrian stood, adjusted his jacket, and walked out.

The room fell silent, whispers chasing in his wake.

Elena’s heart thudded in her chest. She didn’t know what had just happened. All she knew was that Adrian Park had noticed her again.

And that could only mean trouble.

The scholarship orientation had finally sputtered to a close. Rows of students rose from their seats, stretching stiff arms, murmuring quietly. The speeches about gratitude, responsibility, and representing the university’s future still echoed in the hall like a lecture no one had asked for. Elena slipped her notebook into her bag, her stomach knotted.

She didn’t dare linger. She could feel eyes on her, the curious ones, the judgmental ones, the ones already whispering about yesterday’s cafeteria scene. She tugged her bag higher on her shoulder and escaped through the side doors, determined not to give anyone a chance to corner her.

The cool afternoon air hit her face, a relief after the suffocating auditorium. She checked her phone: Hana would already be out of school by now. Perfect. At least her little sister would be a distraction from the chaos swirling around campus.

Hana was waiting at the bus stop, sitting cross-legged on the bench with a lopsided ponytail and a backpack nearly as tall as her. The moment she spotted Elena, she sprang up.

“Daedu!”

“ive told you to stop calling me that, you little troublemaker”

She hurried over, pulling Hana into a rough hug. “Hey. Sorry I’m late.”

“you stink, let go of me,” Hana said with a grin, while trying to set free from the hug. “I was early. So technically, you’re right on time.”

Elena laughed and tugged her sister’s ponytail. “Smarty pants.”

They started walking toward the bus stop. Hana was practically bouncing, her energy in sharp contrast to Elena’s drained body.

“So,” Hana said, eyes glinting mischievously, “how was your big fancy orientation? Did they make you swear loyalty to the scholarship gods or something?”

Elena snorted. “Something like that.”

“Did they at least feed you?”

“Does a bottle of lukewarm water count?”

Hana gasped dramatically. “The injustice! The betrayal! How dare they lure you there without snacks?”

Elena shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” Hana crossed her arms, pretending to pout. “If they want you to be their shining star, they should bribe you with cookies at least. That’s just basic respect.”

They boarded the bus, squeezing into a two-seater at the back. Hana leaned closer, lowering her voice like she was about to share state secrets.

“Okay, Daedu,don’t freak out… but you’re kind of famous now.”

Elena froze. “What do you mean, famous?”

Hana whipped out her phone and tapped furiously. Within seconds, she shoved the screen into Elena’s face. A campus forum thread glowed brightly, the title blaring:

‘Scholarship Girl Blocks Senator’s Son at Cafeteria Line??’

Elena nearly dropped the phone. “WHAT, Hana! Why are you looking at this garbage?!”

“Because it’s hilarious,” Hana said, barely holding back laughter. “Listen to this one: ‘She must have a death wish. Adrian Park doesn’t wait in line for anyone.’”

Elena groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Kill me now.”

“Oh, oh, here’s my favorite!” Hana scrolled. “‘She’s either the bravest girl on campus or the dumbest. Possibly both.’

Elena peeked through her fingers, mortified. “They’re turning me into a circus act.”

Hana shrugged. “Better than being invisible, right?”

Elena shot her a look. “I’d rather be invisible than that.”

Hana smirked. “Too late. You’re officially a legend. Some guy even made a meme of you standing in front of Adrian Park, like a knight blocking a dragon. They called you the ‘Cafeteria Crusader.’”

Elena nearly choked on air. “I hate everyone.”

Hana laughed so hard she nearly fell off the bus seat.

As the bus rattled along, Hana rested her chin on her hand. “So… is he as scary in real life as everyone says?”

Elena stiffened. Adrian’s unreadable eyes flashed in her memory, cold and sharp. “He’s… intimidating.”

“Like, villain-in-a-drama intimidating? Or just tall and broody?”

Elena pinched her sister’s cheek. “Why are you so interested?”

“Because it’s fun!” Hana wiggled out of her grip. “Everyone at my school was talking about it. They’re like, ‘Wow, Hana’s sister is fearless.’ I told them you’re actually a chicken who screams when she sees spiders.”

“Hana!”

“What?” Hana grinned. “I had to protect your image. Can’t have them thinking you’re too cool.”

Elena rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. Their banter, silly as it was, loosened the tightness in her chest.

By the time they reached home, Elena almost felt normal again. Almost.

The Park mansion loomed like a fortress against the fading daylight, its tall windows gleaming gold. Inside, Adrian stood in his father’s study, posture rigid.

Senator Richard Park sat behind his mahogany desk, papers neatly stacked, a glass of whiskey untouched at his side. His gaze was sharp, calculated.

“You walked out,” the senator said, his voice low but cutting.

Adrian kept his eyes fixed ahead. “The orientation was unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” The senator’s jaw tightened. “Do you think tradition is unnecessary? That the image of this family is unnecessary?”

Adrian’s silence was answer enough.

Senator Park stood slowly, the weight of his authority filling the room. “You humiliated me. In front of donors, in front of administrators. They expected my son to be a symbol of discipline. Instead, you acted like a spoiled child.”

Adrian’s hand curled into a fist at his side. Spoiled child. He almost laughed at the irony.

The senator stepped closer, his presence suffocating. “You will not embarrass me again.”

Then the hand came, sharp, sudden, across Adrian’s cheek.

The sting bloomed instantly, but Adrian didn’t flinch. His head turned slightly with the force, then snapped back, eyes forward.

Senator Park’s voice was steel. “Do you understand?”

Adrian’s throat tightened, but his voice was steady. “Yes, Father.”

“Good.” The senator straightened his tie, as if nothing had happened. “Now prepare yourself. The mayor’s family will be at the gala this weekend. I expect perfection.”

Adrian gave a stiff nod, then turned to leave.

The door shut softly behind him. Only then did his hand lift to touch the burning mark on his cheek.

His thoughts were distant, detached: To him, I am not a son. I am a reflection. A tool. A mask to wear.

And as he walked down the silent corridor of the mansion, he wondered, just for a fleeting second, what it would feel like to break free.