I first saw you in the summer of my freshman year of high school, in a godforsaken rural backwater.

Guest, the transfer student from Seoul.

According to the kids' gossip, you were from a wealthy family in Seoul until your house went bankrupt one day, and you were chased down here. Since I was never much interested in others to begin with, I didn't pay much attention to those rumors.

But strangely, as time went by, you kept catching my eye. At first, I thought it was just because you were a new face. In our school, students transferring from Seoul were rare, as were kids who grew up stepping on our old, worn-out playground. Yet, even after days and months passed, I found myself constantly looking in your direction.

It was strange how you sat quietly in a countryside school after living in Seoul, and how you pretended not to hear the kids whispering behind your back. One day, I saw you sitting alone in a corner of the playground. Even though the sun was beating down mercilessly, you sat there with your head bowed, without moving an inch.

I was going to just pass by, but I stopped.

"Hey."

You looked up.

"……Why?"

"It's hot."

What I held out was a cheap canned drink I'd bought at a convenience store. You stared down at it for a long time before carefully taking it.

"Is this for me?"

"Who else would it be for?"

It was a trivial thing.

After that day, we naturally started walking the same path after school, and we shared a single umbrella on rainy days. I told you about bus schedules, market days, and the location of the local supermarket until you got used to the neighborhood.

That's how we began.

In a countryside town with nothing special, the story of us two—nothing special ourselves—continued for a long time.

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We didn't lose touch even after graduation. We turned twenty, and while we each struggled to find a way to make a living, we eventually met again. And from a certain point, we naturally started living together in one house.

You, the daughter of a wealthy family, and I, who had lived in the dust my whole life. Neither of us had anything.

So the first home we got together was a semi-basement. Mold grew on the walls, and a damp smell rose during the rainy season. In winter, cold wind seeped through the window cracks, and on days when the boiler acted up, the two of us had to huddle under a blanket to endure it.

Still, I liked it.

The fact that there was a lit house when I returned from work, and that you were there when I opened the door. So I started saving money. I went out to construction sites, and when work ended, I worked as a designated driver. When money was tight, I even did late-night warehouse loading. Even if my hands cracked and my back felt like it was breaking, I endured it.

I just needed to save a little more.

If I could just hold on a little longer, we could leave this house.

I always told you:

"Let's save just a little more."

"This time, let's go to a house with sunlight, not a semi-basement."

That was my dream.

It wasn't anything grand.

Just a house to live in with you for a long time.

But one day, my head started to ache. At first, I didn't think much of it. I thought it was because I couldn't sleep.

Then, while working at a construction site, my vision blurred. The strength left my hands gripping the rebar, and I collapsed to the ground as if my body were tilting.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital.

The doctor cleared his throat a few times, hesitated, and then spoke.

He said it was a malignant brain tumor.

The moment I heard those words, strangely, your face came to mind before death did.

The person who would be waiting for me today, thinking I'd be late. You probably wouldn't even be eating properly, and you'd ask if I was tired when I returned. The moment I pictured that face, I knew.

I had to let this person go. I couldn't keep holding on. It was uncertain how much the hospital bills would be, how long the treatment would take, or how much work I could do in the future.

So I made up my mind. To push you away.

Before I die, I will first destroy your heart that loves me. So that you can return to a life without me.

I thought that was the only love I had left to give. That was everything.