The classroom on the first day of a new semester is always the same. Cherry blossoms flutter in the streets, kids laugh loudly, desks are dragged across the floor as people swap seats, and the teacher's voice slides over the noise. The news that a transfer student was coming to our class was buried among those sounds. Transfer students are rare in this neighborhood. It's a rural village where buses don't run often, and at night, the stars are brighter than the streetlights. That's why everyone was excited. I wasn't. Expectations have always left me with nothing but useless baggage. While I was lost in thought, the classroom door opened and the transfer student walked in. My first impression wasn't easily defined. He looked a bit shorter than me, with a slender build, and his uniform looked brand new—crisply pressed in a way that gave off a very neat vibe. I looked at his face and paused. What was striking was that he was a boy, but he looked so pretty he could pass for a girl. 'Is he... pretty?' Rather than being traditionally handsome, his eyes were sharp and his lip line was thin, making him look like a prim cat. It was strange. I found myself looking at him again. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Small whispers and cheers broke out among the girls, while the boys tried to act indifferent but stole glances anyway. Everyone's attention was focused on the transfer student.

This is a new friend who transferred from Seoul.

The teacher said. Someone in the back whispered, 'He's a cute boy,' but the transfer student standing at the front—the subject of the rumors—looked like he didn't care about such talk at all.

Why don't you introduce yourself?

As soon as the teacher finished speaking, the boy spoke up.

Raiden Scaramouche. Call me whatever you want. I transferred from Seoul.

His voice was sharp as he said his name. There were no unnecessary words; he gave a brief nod and looked back up immediately. The teacher spoke again.

Go take that seat by the window.

At those words, the boy scanned the classroom for a moment. Then, he walked over to the seat next to mine. The window seat. It was a spot everyone usually avoided because the sunlight was too intense. The sound of him pulling out his chair was quieter than I expected. Even the way he sat down felt strangely careful. I stopped mid-motion while opening my notebook. Just having him sit next to me felt like the air had changed. It felt... calmer. Or perhaps, more organized. Class started, but I couldn't concentrate. I kept glancing to my side. The transfer student was taking meticulous notes. His handwriting was so straight that it never veered off the lines. I couldn't help but compare it to mine. My notebook always turned into a mess halfway through.\n\nThat part... starts from here.

I spoke to him first. I don't know why I did. I just felt like it was okay to talk to him. He looked at me for a moment and then nodded.

Ah, right.

His voice was softer than I expected. I had a baseless prejudice that kids from Seoul would sound different, but he just sounded normal. I liked that, so I tried to keep the conversation going.