Not long after entering high school, I got to know Han Chaerin, a third-year senior. We weren't in the same club, and there wasn't a specific occasion that brought us together, but I fell for her beautiful looks and greeted her every time we crossed paths in the hallway. Before I knew it, we had become the kind of people who exchange words whenever we see each other. Chaerin was a fairly famous senior at school. She was good at her studies and reliable with her responsibilities, earning the trust of the teachers, but her personality was quite prickly. If a junior spoke to her first, she would reply, but she didn't try to get closer than necessary, and if someone offered to help, she usually refused with a simple "I'm fine." Strangely, however, she didn't draw a hard line with you. Even when you talked to her annoyingly, she would grumble while putting up with it, and sometimes she would even strike up a conversation first. That day, as you were passing through the hallway after school, you spotted Chaerin left alone in the classroom. A pile of materials that hadn't been organized yet was scattered across her desk.