Chapter 60: Fantasy in the middle of the night

“What are you reading?”

To put it bluntly, my first impression was terrible.

Her hair was neatly combed. Her face was clean, even without makeup. Her dark, deep eyes were as intense as if she were wearing contact lenses, and her flawless skin had a subtle pinkish glow.

And her breasts were just the right size, rising up nicely.

Even her plain school uniform couldn’t hide her feminine charm.

In contrast, what about herself? Her hair was always messy and curly, and she wore thick horn-rimmed glasses.

The reddish-brown eyes visible through the plastic lenses were eerie, and her sickly white skin and emaciated body reminded one of a corpse.
Every time she looked in the mirror, the same thought crossed her mind.

Why does this woman have such a gloomy expression? She not only looked gloomy herself but also seemed to cast a gloomy shadow over her surroundings.

In any case, we were as incompatible as water and oil, or the opposite poles of a magnet.

The only thing we had in common was the anachronistically long length of our skirts, but surely something as trivial as skirt length couldn’t define a person’s character.

From the start, our appearances were completely different from the worlds we lived in.

This naturally led to suspicion.

I assumed she was just looking for something to tease me about, as insiders often treat outsiders like their playthings.

I thought this woman with her bright smile was no different.

So her cheerful face felt unbearably gloomy. It was a transparent ploy.

It was so obvious, yet for some reason, I was completely flustered.

In fact, it was the first time since my mother left that someone had spoken to me in such a kind voice.

“Uh, uh… yes?”

“No Longer Human? By Osamu Dazai?”

“Uh, yes…”

A gloomy woman reading a novel that glorifies suicide in the corner of the library.

I couldn’t imagine anything more unpleasant, but the woman’s smile didn’t falter.

In fact, it seemed even brighter than before. The sunlight streaming in through the window behind her made her look like the Virgin Mary. Was Mary actually Asian?

“What about Edgar Allan Poe? I think you might like his work too.”

Even after that, the woman continued to chatter incessantly. What writers do you like? I like this writer. What about that writer? Despite her seemingly unintelligent appearance, the woman was quite cultured.

Perhaps even more so than me. If I lack both looks and culture, what is the value of my existence as a self-proclaimed literary girl?

Before I knew it, my cheeks were flushed.

Hearing her whispering voice right next to my ear, it felt like listening to an 18+ ASMR.

I thought only perverts with abnormal sexual desires would listen to such things, but for some reason, I felt like I could understand it a little. Of course, I didn’t press the subscribe button.

Just exchanging a few words, but cold sweat runs down my spine. My fingers, not knowing what to do, endlessly stroke the corner of the book.

And I mutter to myself.

Why are you acting like this next to me? I don’t know anything about literature, you know.

I pretend to be a literary girl in my daily life, but that’s just an act, and I came to the library just to quietly kill time during lunch break. If you’re popular, go hang out with the popular crowd.
I looked at the woman with that meaning in mind, but quickly averted my gaze.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t handle her sparkling eyes.

If I had had the courage to speak up, I wouldn’t have ended up living like this in the first place.

So I just wished that this uncomfortable time would pass a little faster.

“Time’s up. I’ll be going now.”

“Oh, bye…”

When the bell rang for class, they exchanged light greetings and parted ways.

Only then did I sigh and slam the book I was reading shut.

I brushed the dust off my buttocks and stood up, my body stiff.

I loosened my stiff shoulders and walked back to the classroom.

Upon returning to the classroom, I casually looked around, but she was not there, probably because she was in another class.

After all, if we were in the same class, there’s no way I wouldn’t remember that dazzling face.

Anyway, I thought that brief encounter would be the end of our connection.

Because we lived in such different worlds. I thought we would never meet again, that it would really be the end, but I never imagined that our connection would be so strong and lasting.

I didn’t know that at the time. And even now, I don’t really know how I ended up here. It’s just fate, just fate.

“Hello! We meet again.”

The sun set, the moon rose, the moon set, and the sun rose again, and it was lunchtime the next day.

In the corner of the library. A corner seat covered with a thin layer of dust.

It was a place that almost no one ever visited, but the woman came back again. She spreads a fresh vitality like the midday sun.

“Can I sit next to you?”

No, go away, please—I couldn’t dare say that.

Like a textbook example of a loser, I nod my head nervously and quickly lower my gaze. It’s one of the behaviors I’ve learned to avoid conflict.

I wondered what my parents would say if they saw this pathetic sight. As I berated myself, I belatedly realized that I had no one to call my parents, and by then, the woman was already sitting right next to me.

Unfazed by my embarrassment, she sat down with her butt on the floor and tidied up her disheveled skirt.

At first glance, each of her rough actions seemed strangely feminine, perhaps because of her appearance.

“Come to think of it, I didn’t hear your name yesterday. Are you from another class? I’m Isia.”

“I, I’m Kang… Geonma.”

“Huh?”

“It’s Kang Geonma.”

Without realizing it, I was about to blurt out my real name, but I stopped myself.

Because I didn’t really want to get close to her.

Instead, I hurriedly blurted out the name of a certain manga character.

And to make matters worse, I blurted out the name of a male character.

But the woman didn’t laugh. Of course, she was smiling, but it wasn’t a mocking smile.

She just looked at my face brightly, cheerfully, warmly, as if trying to communicate something.

“That’s a nice name.”

As she said that, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly, and her eyelids folded gently.

Why am I repeating the same description over and over again just because of this woman’s careless smile?

But unforgettable memories, faded memories, keep moving the pen in my imagination. I don’t think I liked her that much back then, or rather, I felt more like I disliked her.

No matter what, that smile from back then strangely remains in my memory.