Your Girlfriend Calls Me Daddy-Chapter 61 | The Class Rep Walks Into A Trap Set By The Main Heroine
The soft buzz of her phone startled Cheon Hae-Won from her trance-like state. She’d been staring at the same spot on her desk for the past five minutes, not seeing the polished wood surface but instead replaying memories that made her face burn with shame.
The phantom sensation of Rome’s fingers lingered on her skin, a constant reminder of what had happened in that storage room.
She glanced down at her phone.
We need to talk. After homeroom. —R
Her heart lurched in her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t think beyond those six words on her screen. What did he want? To threaten her again? To remind her of her humiliation?
"Alright, everyone! I’m about to announce the teams for Friday’s Battle Trials," Professor Delacroix called out, her voice cutting through the classroom chatter.
Cheon barely heard her. She should be paying attention—this was exactly the kind of official business that she, as Class Representative, needed to document and organize. Instead, her mind kept circling back to that text message, to Rome’s hands, to the way her body had betrayed her.
"Team One will be Nolan Traore, Aurora Fitzgerald, and Cheon Hae-Won."
Someone said her name. She looked up automatically, nodding as if she’d been listening all along.
"Team Two: Rome D’Angelo, Noel Stark, and Usagi Honjō."
A sharp intake of breath from somewhere behind her. Cheon turned slightly to see Noel’s face transform from its usual cool mask into something rigid with barely contained fury. Her pale skin flushed pink across her cheekbones, and her violet hair seemed to bristle with static electricity.
"This is unacceptable," Noel said, her voice tight. "I request a reassignment."
Professor Delacroix’s smile widened into something almost predatory. "Request denied, Miss Stark. The teams were randomly generated through our system. They stand as announced."
"But—"
"No buts. Unless you’re claiming a genuine safety concern?"
Noel’s mouth snapped shut. Her eyes darted to Rome, who sat at the back of the class with Mera beside him. Rome wasn’t even looking in her direction—he was writing something in a notebook, seemingly untroubled by the team assignments.
"No, Professor," Noel finally said.
"Excellent! Now, Team Three..."
Cheon’s attention drifted again. She should be relieved to be paired with Nolan and Aurora.
They were the top-ranked students in their class, both with impressive combat records and well-developed abilities. Together, they would be a formidable team.
So why did she feel disappointed?
Her eyes moved of their own accord to where Rome sat. He was still writing, but as if sensing her gaze, he looked up. Their eyes met across the classroom. Rome’s mismatched eyes—one gray, one green—locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. He didn’t smile. He didn’t need to. The look alone was enough to make her face heat up again.
Then Mera leaned over and whispered something to him. Rome broke eye contact, turning to respond to whatever Mera had said. Cheon watched as Mera’s hand rested on Rome’s arm with easy familiarity, as Rome smiled at something she said, as they shared a private moment that excluded everyone else.
The jealousy that surged through Cheon was both unexpected and unwelcome.
She had no right to feel jealous.
She barely knew Rome.
He wasn’t hers to claim.
He had touched her once, made her feel things she’d never felt before, and then walked away as if it meant nothing.
Because it did mean nothing, she reminded herself. He had Mera. They were together. Whatever had happened in that storage room was a momentary lapse in judgment on both their parts, nothing more.
The rest of homeroom passed in a blur. Professor Delacroix finished announcing the teams, reviewed some administrative details about the Battle Trials, and then dismissed the class. Students began gathering their things and filing out for their next period.
Cheon remained seated, staring at the blank page of her notebook. She hadn’t taken a single note all morning.
"Miss Hae-Won? Homeroom is over."
She looked up to find Professor Delacroix standing beside her desk, an expression of mild concern on her face.
"Are you okay? You seemed distracted today."
"I’m fine," Cheon said automatically. "Just... thinking about the Battle Trials."
Professor Delacroix’s amber eyes narrowed slightly, seeing more than Cheon wanted her to see. "Hmm. Well, whatever’s on your mind, don’t let it affect your performance on Friday. You’ve been paired with our top students—make the most of it."
"Yes, Professor. Thank you."
As Professor Delacroix walked away, Cheon’s phone buzzed again.
Room 3-C. Empty classroom. Come alone. —R
Her fingers hovered over the screen, uncertain how to respond. Should she ignore it? Report him? The smart thing would be to delete the message and pretend she never received it.
The proper thing would be to tell Professor Delacroix that a student was trying to meet with her privately in an empty classroom.
Instead, she typed: On my way.
The walk to Room 3-C felt like walking to her own execution. Each step brought her closer to a confrontation she wasn’t prepared for. What would she say to him? How could she look him in the eye after what had happened?
She paused outside the door, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She was Cheon Hae-Won, Class Representative of 1-A. She had perfect scores and perfect attendance. She did not lose control. She did not let boys touch her in storage rooms.
Except she had. And now she had to face the consequences.
She pushed open the door.
The classroom was empty except for one person—but it wasn’t Rome. Mera sat on the teacher’s desk at the front of the room, her red legs crossed at the knee, her tail swishing lazily behind her. She wore the standard school uniform, but somehow it looked different on her—the skirt seemed shorter, the shirt more fitted, as if the clothing itself had surrendered to her curves.
"Hi, Panda," Mera said, her yellow eyes gleaming.
"It’s time we had a talk."
