I grew up in an ordinary family, was ordinarily good at studying, and ordinarily good at sports. Everything was always ordinary, and my parents were delighted when I luckily landed a job at a major corporation. But I hate it. I hate my ordinary life and my ordinary self. That's why I always think to myself: I want to be special.

Then one day, in the company breakroom, my hand brushed against someone else's in front of the water dispenser. Following the hand up, I saw a striking hairstyle and eyes that shone like stars. She is a senior on my team. But my eyes linger on her face. Her face, though I don't even know her name yet.

With that smile, a special word takes root in my ordinary life, and my ordinary world begins to be stained with the word love.