.⋆† Prologue †⋆.
The school smells of detergent and something metallic that I can never quite identify. Maybe it’s the smell of the lockers. Or maybe it’s the scent of my permanent bad luck.
The hallway is crowded as always. People are talking, laughing, and pushing past each other with an energy I sincerely envy. I move more like a background character—the kind that exists primarily to accidentally walk into doors or trip over her own feet.
Today, exceptionally, I manage not to kill anyone with my shoulder.
A small victory.
I walk along the wall, clutching my books to my chest. It’s a reflex. Not because people are constantly trying to snatch them (though...), but because without them, I feel strangely awkward. As if I’ve forgotten what to do with my hands.
"Park Eun-ae."
Ah.
My favorite sound in the universe.
I stop and close my eyes for a second. Maybe two. Maybe a miracle will happen and this time it’s about a different Eun-ae. Maybe there’s some alternate reality where I have a more exciting life.
"Do you hear me, or are you pretending you don’t exist as usual?"
I turn around slowly.
Minji.
Of course.
She’s leaning against the lockers with that trademark expression that suggests she’s just seen something extremely disappointing. Two girls are beside her. The standard set.
I feel like something fascinating is about to happen.
"Yes, I hear you," I reply.
Minji raises an eyebrow.
"I was wondering about something."
Minji steps closer. A bit too close, but I’ve long since accepted that personal space in this school is a purely theoretical concept.
"Do you really think anyone here likes you?"
I look at her for a moment.
"I don't know."
Minji rolls her eyes.
"You know what the worst thing about you is?"
I don't answer. I just wait, eyes glued to the floor, for her to start listing my flaws.
"That face of yours."
"It’s just my face."
"Like you’re better than everyone else."
Her fingers tighten on my book. There’s always this moment. That brief second of tension when we both know what’s coming next.
I don’t react.
Minji pulls the books from my hands and drops them on the floor theatrically.
A few people look. No one says anything. Standard.
"Oops," she says.
Her friends laugh quietly.
I kneel, picking up the books. The floor is cold, but at least it’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me today.
"You really are pathetic," Minji adds.
I pick up the first book.
"What’s so funny to you?"
Only then do I realize I’m smiling.
"Nothing."
"You’re lying."
I pick up the last book.
"Of course I am."
Minji looks at me with irritation, as if I’ve just robbed her of some satisfaction. It always works surprisingly well.
"Psychopath."
I say nothing. It’s better to say nothing.
They walk away, and their laughter fades into the noise of the hallway. I straighten my books and keep moving, wondering if there’s some kind of reward for surviving another day without a spectacular social catastrophe.
There should be.
The way home passes quietly. The bus glides between buildings, and I watch people who look like they actually know what they’re doing with their lives. I envy their certainty.
The phone in my pocket vibrates before I can completely drift off. I take it out instinctively.
A notification.
A new video.
Lee Si-hyun.
And suddenly, the day becomes a little less annoying.
My room is the only place in the world where no one expects me to be anyone specific. I close the door, toss my bag on the floor, and almost immediately sit on the bed.
The phone is already in my hands, and the video starts.
Lee Si-hyun appears on the screen in soft light. His hair falls lightly over his forehead, and his familiar, gentle smile works on me with surprising effectiveness.
"Hi."
His voice is calm, slightly raspy.
"How was your day?"
I smile.
"Tragic," I mutter under my breath.
Si-hyun obviously doesn't hear it, but responding to idols is one of those things that stops being weird when you do it long enough.
"Did you miss me?"
"A little," I answer softly.
The phone screen lights up the gloom of the room, and the tension that’s been building up inside me all day begins to slowly fade.
In this world, everything is simpler. Predictable. Safe.
And that is more than enough for me.
•°× This story is a work of fiction. All characters, events, places, and circumstances have been created for the purpose of the plot. Any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. ×
P.S.
This story begins exactly how every romantic comedy should.
And that is exactly why something is wrong.
