CHAPTER 1: THE GIRL WHO NEVER SAID NO
Morning sunlight poured through the classroom windows, filling the room with soft gold.
Children hurried between desks.
Someone couldn't find their notebook.
Someone else had forgotten a ruler.
Another child was nearly in tears after dropping a pile of papers across the floor.
Before any teacher noticed...
A small pair of hands was already helping.
"There you go."
Luma knelt beside the crying girl, gathering each scattered sheet one by one.
She straightened the corners carefully before handing them back with both hands.
"There."
"They're not even bent."
The girl sniffled.
"...Thank you."
Luma smiled.
"No problem."
She stood before anyone could thank her again.
"Luma!"
A boy waved from across the classroom.
"Do you have another pencil?"
She reached into her bag without hesitation.
"I always carry extras."
He grinned.
"You're the best."
She laughed.
"You said that yesterday."
"Because it's still true."
During mathematics...
A classmate stared blankly at the worksheet.
Luma quietly slid her own notebook across the desk.
"You forgot how to do this one?"
The boy nodded.
She whispered the first step.
Not the answer.
Just enough.
His face lit up.
"Ohhh..."
"I get it now!"
She smiled.
"I knew you would."
At lunch...
One child had forgotten their meal.
Another had dropped theirs onto the ground.
Without saying a word...
Luma divided her own lunch into three equal parts.
"You'll be hungry."
"So will you," one of them replied.
She shrugged.
"I don't mind."
The three children looked at one another.
Then accepted.
When recess came...
The playground echoed with laughter.
A younger student sat alone on a swing, rubbing watery eyes.
Luma slowed her pace.
"What happened?"
"My kite ripped."
She crouched beside them.
"Oh..."
"That's a serious injury."
The child blinked.
"...Really?"
She nodded with exaggerated concern.
"We might have to perform emergency kite surgery."
The child giggled.
Luma carefully tied the torn fabric together with a ribbon from her pocket.
"There."
"It won't fly perfectly..."
"...but neither do bandaged birds."
The child laughed louder than before.
"Thank you!"
As they ran off...
Luma smiled to herself.
Back home...
The apartment was quieter.
Her father sat at the kitchen table, exhausted after work.
Her mother's shoulders slumped as she folded laundry.
Neither noticed Luma walk in.
She disappeared into her room.
A few minutes later...
She returned wearing an old blanket tied around her shoulders like a cape.
She puffed out her chest dramatically.
"Attention!"
"The Great Laundry Dragon has appeared!"
Her parents looked up.
"...What?"
Luma threw the blanket over herself and began stumbling around the living room.
"I have consumed... twelve socks..."
"...and I demand... one hundred pancakes!"
Her father burst into laughter.
Her mother covered her mouth, trying not to laugh too.
"Oh no!"
"The dragon found the missing sock!"
Luma pulled a lone sock from behind her father's ear.
"I knew it!"
"You're working with the dragon!"
Soon...
All three of them were laughing.
The heavy mood faded.
Even if only for a little while.
The next morning...
It happened again.
Helping.
Smiling.
Listening.
Encouraging.
Without realizing it...
People had begun looking for her before trying to solve their own problems.
A teacher couldn't find the attendance sheet.
"Luma?"
"Have you seen it?"
She had.
A child couldn't remember which classroom to visit.
"Luma?"
She knew.
Someone scraped their knee.
"Luma?"
She was already bringing tissues.
As school ended...
A group of classmates packed their bags.
One of them stretched lazily before smiling.
"It's fine."
"Luma's here."
Another nodded.
"Yeah."
"If Luma's here..."
"Everything will be fine."
Luma laughed softly.
"I don't think I'm that amazing."
"You are."
"You're always smiling."
"And you always know what to do."
She rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassed.
"I just like helping."
The bell rang.
The children hurried toward the school gates.
Luma followed them...
Still smiling.
Unaware...
...that those simple words—
"If Luma's here, everything will be fine."
—were slowly becoming something else.
Not gratitude.
An expectation.
