As the minutes passed, he clenched his fists in anger while carrying both backpacks.
"Damn teacher, today you won't see Miles the loving father—you'll see Miles the monster," he thought.
No one messed with his children, so he imagined himself as a knight in shining armor coming to rescue his babies, charging in to slay a wicked dragon guarding the tower.
He dropped his kids off at their classroom and headed toward the teachers' lounge at the rural school. He walked down the hall with a dangerous aura, drawing curious glances from several mothers who thought he looked ridiculous. But in Miles's mind, he was ready to defend his children against whatever nasty remarks the teacher might make.
That murderous aura faded the moment he had to greet Carol from the parents' center. He then continued to the second floor, glancing sideways with fury. He looked for office "B-3," where he had been summoned, determined to face the school's old dragon.
As he climbed the stairs, a narrow hallway appeared lined with offices. There, his attention was immediately caught by a particularly round backside and a masculine cologne flooding his nostrils. That person was heading to the same office.
Miles felt disarmed when he saw a young man with ash-blond hair and slim glasses, carrying folders and unlocking the door.
He was simply too handsome. Miles's heart skipped a beat, and he swallowed hard.
"That body looks sculpted by the gods," Miles thought.
They hadn't even begun talking, and the dragon had already lost.
"Are you Mr. Granholm?" asked the blond man, his gaze serious.
Miles wondered if he had died and gone to heaven upon hearing that voice. He felt like a teenager again, because that young man truly seemed like an angel on Earth.
"Is this how they greet you in heaven?" Miles blurted out.
Miles could be brilliant at some things, but incredibly foolish at others.
Case in point.
The teacher looked at him, bewildered.
"Pardon?" he ventured to ask.
"By the moon, how embarrassing," Miles thought, wishing the ground would swallow him.
At that point, his life felt like a novel, and he was the author's court jester.
Miles opened his mouth to speak but felt his cheeks grow hot. Talking suddenly seemed impossible.
Once he found his voice, he replied, "Yes, I'm Miles. Miles Granholm, father of Elliot and Norman."
He extended his hand.
"Junhui Song—please call me Jun," the blond replied with a polite smile.
Miles now knew the name of his crush. And yes, calling it a crush felt ridiculous, but his single-dad heart had definitely been stirred.
"Excuse me, but a colleague asked for this office. We'll have to use another—please follow me," Jun said politely.
Jun turned and walked ahead, leaving Miles hypnotized by that firm backside and the graceful sway of his body. Like a snake charmer luring his prey.
Miles was afraid Jun might turn around and catch him staring, so he forced his eyes elsewhere.
"I wish I were that tack my kids put in his chair—damn it," thought the redhead.
The blond guided him to one of the last offices in the hallway. It was empty, quiet, and tucked away.
Miles entered and heard the door click shut behind him.
The kiss of irony: one of his secret fantasies as a single dad was office sex. He never expected this sort of battle here, but just imagining that sharp-eyed beauty standing before him...
"Mr. Granholm," Jun murmured.
Miles imagined Jun grabbing him by the collar, placing his hands on Miles's hips, unbuttoning his shirt and biting his lip—revealing a sculpted, irresistible body.
"Would you like an introduction to anatomy?" came the thought in his head.
In his imagination, Jun sat at the desk, legs parted, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Everything was perfect—until real-life Jun dropped his heavy folders onto the desk.
"Mr. Granholm, are you alright?" Jun asked with curiosity, noticing how distracted the father was.
Snapped back to reality, Miles coughed and said, "Of course I am," lying through his teeth.
Inside, he died of embarrassment.
"I called because I want to talk about your children," Jun said, removing his glasses and placing them on the desk.
Miles nodded, his attention caught by Jun's expressive lips moving as he spoke.
"I understand your children joined this rural school about two weeks ago, coming from the city. That must have been a big adjustment, right?" Jun asked compassionately.
"It was. We had family drama," Miles replied.
Jun sighed sympathetically.
"I don't doubt your children's abilities. They caught up quickly and, by month's end, I'm sure they'll be stars in math and biology."
It was true: his kids always said Jun praised them for doing their homework well.
"And that's why I called you. They don't have academic issues—they have behavioral ones," Jun complained.
"They're just kids. It's their age," Miles defended.
"They've played pranks on me all week, one after another."
"What kind?"
"At first they kept switching places, but I learned to tell them apart. They wrote 'I'm in love' on the whiteboard, made up ghost stories so the girls wouldn't use the bathroom… and put plastic wrap on the door so I'd walk into it!" Jun vented.
Miles let out a small chuckle imagining Jun as the victim. That didn't amuse Jun.
"Sorry," Miles apologized.
"They also keep messing with the hands on the analog clock and teaming up with the class to make me think I'm late," Jun added, weary.
Miles couldn't help but laugh internally. What had Jun done to deserve this from his boys? He didn't know, but he admired their creativity.
"Your kids are very creative, sir. But they need discipline," Jun criticized.
Unfortunately, Miles agreed. At home, those pranks made him laugh, but at school it was a different story. It was a ticking time bomb.
"I understand—they're hyperactive—but I assure you they're angels. At home, they even speak over each other," Miles tried to defuse the situation.
He glanced at Jun's neck: no anti-bite collar. Likely a beta—omegas from the capital usually wore ornamental protective collars.
He'd think about that later, focusing back on the conversation.
"Maybe they like you. It's like when they like a girl—they tease."
Jun looked thoughtful.
"Even if that's true, it doesn't justify all this. You need to talk to them. I've held back on punishment because I'm against it, but it'd be different if they'd targeted a colleague," Jun said.
Miles closed his eyes, then spoke gently:
"I'm sorry they've pulled these stunts. Let's start fresh."
"As long as you make sure it doesn't happen again, I'm satisfied. I'm here if you need anything."
In Miles's head, a voice shouted, This is the moment, Miles.
"Would you like my phone number? It's faster—let me know if anything comes up," Miles offered.
Jun looked surprised, then wrote his number on a yellow sticky note and handed it to him.
"As long as you don't call outside work hours, that's fine," Jun replied.
The meeting ended better than Miles had expected. He left the school feeling a bit dazed. For now, he was just relieved to know he wasn't alone in helping his kids with school, but he still would have loved a clearer sign that the teacher was single.