The Rules of the Night

Professor Kim’s gaze lingered on Jian’s pale wrist as she held her glass. When she tipped the liquid into her mouth, the subtle movement of her throat had an oddly sensual quality. Her red lips, glistening with the drink, and the long fingers wrapped around the glass created a provocative image, as if deliberately staged.

“Professor Song, are you planning to get married?”

Her hand faltered for a fraction of a second but quickly regained its composure.

“I’d prefer not to discuss personal matters.”

“Oh, privacy, is it?”

The mocking tone didn’t faze Jian in the slightest.

“Well, with your looks and talent, Professor Song, you could probably get married anytime you want.”

Professor Choi poured more alcohol into Jian’s glass, his voice teasing.

Even in the dimly lit bar, her beauty was impossible to ignore. Her long, black wavy hair fell just below her chest, her red lips were striking, and the curves beneath her shirt hinted at an allure that could stir desire in anyone who looked her way.

But her eyes were the crowning feature. They were a contradiction—cool yet smoldering, as though inviting yet firmly drawing boundaries. They captivated and frustrated, leaving others yearning for more.

“I heard your paper is getting published in QJE, Professor Song. That’s quite an accomplishment, especially for someone so young.”

As soon as Professor Choi finished, Professor Park, seated across from Jian, chimed in.

“Of course! Professor Song’s skills are undeniable. I mean, she was appointed as an assistant professor at the University of Chicago right after earning her doctorate.”

Jian, who had completed an integrated bachelor’s and master’s program in just five years, earned her Ph.D. in game theory from Princeton University. Even before graduating, she had a solo paper published in RES, one of the top five academic journals.

That achievement earned her a position as an assistant professor at a U.S. university at the age of thirty. For a year, she dedicated all her time and energy to research. Even in the fiercely competitive American economics academia, she stood out as a brilliant talent.

The smooth trajectory of her life hit a sudden roadblock earlier this year when her father was involved in an unexpected accident. Staying in the U.S. became impossible, and she had no choice but to put her plans on hold and submit applications to universities in Korea.

“But now comes the real challenge. Let’s be honest, your first two papers were published while you were at an American university. Things are completely different in Korea. Good luck getting your next paper accepted here.”

Professor Kim smirked as he brought his glass to his lips.

The academic environment in Korean universities was far more conservative than Jian had anticipated. Her exceptional resume, coupled with her striking appearance, was enough to provoke resentment from many. Here, she was relentlessly pressured to choose between being a woman and being a professor.

The hostility from Professor Kim was just one manifestation of that attitude.

“Even with your talent and looks, Professor Song, you’ve been abroad for so long. It’s going to be hard to find a decent guy to marry.”

A chill ran down her spine.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You know. Korean men are still pretty conservative. You’ve lived abroad, so you’ve probably dated foreigners… Honestly, that’s a bit of a red flag.”

Professor Kim shrugged, his pathetic attempt to assert dominance almost amusing. Jian nearly laughed out loud.

“Well, then I’ll just date a foreigner.”

“That’s not the point. A Korean should marry a Korean.”

“Why? The world is big, and there are plenty of men out there.”

“You clearly don’t understand how people in this country view international marriages, especially when it’s a woman. It brings up bad memories from our history.”

Even Professor Park seemed uncomfortable, quickly pouring more alcohol into Professor Kim’s glass.

“Ah, senior! Your glass is empty. Let me refill it for you. Have another drink!”

They could have ended it there. Jian could have let it slide, thinking it wasn’t worth the trouble. After all, Professor Kim was drunk, and she would have to see him regularly throughout her career.

But Jian chose confrontation.

“What kind of reaction were you hoping for? Did you expect me to cry and thank you for your concern?”

“What?”

Her sarcastic tone made Professor Kim’s face twist with anger.

“Sorry, but insecure men like that aren’t my type. I appreciate your advice, but I’d prefer you keep it to yourself from now on.”

Professor Kim’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, as if it couldn’t possibly blush any further.

This position was one Jian had earned solely through her own effort, without connections or family support. She had no interest in appeasing egos or smoothing things over to maintain relationships. Her stance was simple: her ability had earned her the position, and her ability would prove her worth.

A tense silence stretched across the table.

“Come now, why are we like this? Isn’t this supposed to be a celebration at the end of the semester? Professor Song, why don’t you step out for some fresh air?”

Professor Park gave her a subtle wink. Already feeling the effects of the alcohol, Jian stood up. She felt suffocated and wanted to leave the room immediately.

“I’ll just head to the restroom.”

As the door closed behind her, she heard someone muttering, “What an arrogant little brat…”

That someone like him can even be called a professor… His words are so crude they’re unbearable.

Jian stepped out into the night. The cold air was sharp, her breath visible in the frosty air. She wandered into a quiet alley and perched herself on an outdoor unit, letting the alcohol’s warmth spread through her body.

Here, even being recognized for your skills becomes a problem.

Her entire life had been devoted to studying, a path she’d believed in wholeheartedly. But the academic environment in Korea was abysmal, and the authority-obsessed professors seemed intent on tearing her down. Her chest tightened with frustration, as if she were choking.

Would smoking help ease this?

For a brief moment, she entertained the idea of surrendering herself to pure pleasure—of sweat, heavy breaths, and burning hands sweeping over her body. Maybe that would release the tension coiled so tightly within her.

But the thought was fleeting. Relationships would only hinder her career, and casual flings weren’t her style. The idea of feeling desire for someone she had just met was utterly incomprehensible to her.

“So suffocating.”

The words spilled out with a sigh, dissipating into the night air. The alley, cloaked in an oppressive silence, felt like a world apart from the noisy bar. Just as the quiet began to feel oddly comforting, a metallic click shattered the stillness.

Startled, Jian turned her head sharply. Deep in the alley, a tall, imposing man was lighting a cigarette. The faint scent of burning oil wafted toward her, carried by the breeze from the rectangular lighter in his hand.

“Not as startled as I thought you’d be,” the man remarked, his low voice tinged with a faint smile. Even in the dim light, Jian could make out his sharp features: a high nose bridge, a loosely unbuttoned shirt, and a faint red cut at the corner of his lips.

“Who the hell are you?” she snapped.

Her irritation flared, her brows furrowing. Years of living abroad had left her with the habit of masking fear or surprise with aggression. The man studied her face, then chuckled softly.

“Not scared, huh? Or are you just pretending?”

For a moment, Jian was at a loss for words. His penetrating gaze, as if it could see straight through her, left her tense and uneasy.

“If you were there, you should’ve made a sound,” she said, her tone sharp.

The man raised his lighter in response.
“I did. I lit my cigarette, didn’t I?”

He brought the cigarette to his lips, his fingers moving with practiced ease. Moments later, white smoke curled into the air, dissipating slowly.

“Do you know me? Why are you speaking so casually?”

“You’re speaking casually to me too,” he replied.

“You’re younger than me.”

“Really? You don’t look it.”

The man took a deep drag from his cigarette, his cheeks hollowing as he inhaled. When he exhaled, the motion seemed to release something heavy into the air, the tension almost tangible. For a moment, Jian found herself staring, her irritation momentarily forgotten.

Noticing her gaze, the man pulled out a cigarette pack from his pocket and held it out to her.

“I’ve never smoked before.”

“Then try it. It helps when you’re feeling suffocated.”

For a brief moment, she was tempted. Her carefully controlled life had never allowed for even a fleeting act of rebellion, and suddenly, the weight of that restraint felt stifling. But the nagging sense that taking the cigarette would mean crossing an unseen boundary—starting something new with this stranger—held her back.

“No, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a light laugh, exhaling another puff of smoke that dissolved into the chilly air.

As she debated whether to stay or leave, she felt his gaze settle on her profile.

“What are you staring at?” she asked.

“You’ve got an intriguing face,” he said simply.

“What’s so intriguing about it?”

“Want me to tell you? But I doubt it’s something you’d want to hear from a stranger.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, her pent-up frustration, or the strange pull of the man’s presence, but Jian felt her guard softening, her usual defenses slipping.

“Go on. Let’s hear it,” she said.

“You’ve got the kind of face that sharpens its edges against people, but that only makes them want to conquer you more. It’s a face that makes them wonder what’s beneath the surface.”

“Beneath what?”

He grinned, the corners of his mouth curling up mischievously.
“Both things you’re thinking about right now.”

Jian let out a dry laugh, shaking her head.

“You’re rude—and arrogant.”

“If it bothers you, say whatever you want. I’ll take it. Whatever it is,” he replied casually.

Jian lifted her head, letting her gaze sweep over him. At least 185 cm tall, with broad shoulders and a lean, athletic build, he was striking. Even in the dim light, the loosened collar of his shirt hinted at a well-sculpted physique. She lingered on the sight longer than she intended, then let out a soft chuckle.

Looks alone really can stir desire. Or is that just how desire works?

“That smile tells me you like what you see.”

The man’s low voice resonated in the narrow alley, smooth and unhurried. Jian leaned her head back against the wall, tilting it slightly as her lips curved into a slow, deliberate smile.

“Not bad. The body, at least.”

“Then what else do you want?”

“Your face. I can’t see it clearly from here.”

The man chuckled softly, extinguishing his cigarette before stepping closer. As the shadows receded to reveal his features, Jian instinctively held her breath.

He looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties, with a face that straddled the line between boyish vulnerability and languid masculinity.

His eyes, partially hidden by slightly long bangs, carried a detached indifference yet hinted at a storm of emotions beneath the surface. His sharp nose lent depth to a face that might have otherwise appeared too youthful, while the faint red cut at the corner of his lips added a touch of dangerous allure. Every detail about him exuded a reckless, breathtaking charm.

“Beautiful,” she murmured, her voice low. “If only you didn’t smoke, I might actually want to kiss you.”

The corners of his lips curved into a faint smirk.
“Then you should smoke too. Problem solved.”

“…….”

“Don’t want to?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she extended her hand.

“Give me one.”