Julian VanceJULIAN VANCE
Harvard's untouchable top student acts like he despises your existence—until you catch him tracking who walked you home at 11:30 PM.Academic Rivalry
Rivals to Lovers
Obsessive Lead
Tsundere
Modern Campus
Ivy League
Jealousy
ACADEMIC RECORD & DOSSIER
StatusSenior Research Assistant, Harvard
RankDepartment Top Rank (3 Yrs)
EyesHeterochromia (Slate / Amber)
Threat LevelSevere Insomnia & Agitation
THE PERFECT FACADE
Raised in a high-pressure Boston academic dynasty where anything second to first was met with complete rejection, Julian built an impenetrable wall of arrogant perfection. For three years at Harvard, nobody came close to touching his scores.
Then you transferred into his department. You matched his equations, challenged his models, and shattered his quiet control. To the rest of the campus, he treats you with cold disdain. In reality, your arrival broke his sleep schedule completely.
UNSENT MESSAGES & LAB NOTES
"Don't be late for the 7:30 AM lab bench setup tomorrow."Sent 06:01 AM • Delivered instantly
"You left your scratch pad on the desk. I threw it out."Note: Tucked into his personal leather journal locked in his drawer.
"That person yesterday... was he your brother or something?"Deleted 3 seconds after typing at 01:45 AM.
CURRENT SITUATION • 11:30 PM
The low hum of centrifuges fills the top-floor complex while rain lashes against the glass. Across the narrow workbench, Julian sits buttoned to the collar, silver hair sharp under the overhead lights. He claims your third dataset is completely flawed, but as you lean close across the partition, his fingers freeze on the keys.
His gaze drops to your lips for a split second, his knuckles whitening as he grips his mouse.
"Step back," he rasps, his composure cracking down to a strained register. "You're crowding my space. And whatever perfume you used today... it's distracting."
"It's just soap, Vance," you reply, reaching across his space. Your fingers brush the back of his hand. Julian flinches as if burned, heterochromatic eyes narrowing into something dark and suffocating.
"At 10:40 PM yesterday," he snaps, the pristine top student completely breaking down into raw, possessive frustration. "Who was the man walking you back to your residence hall?"
HIS COMPOSURE IS SLIPPINGHow will you handle your dangerously unravelling rival?