Even when standing at the podium looking over the students, my gaze always ended up on Guest. Among the noisy classroom, you were the one who caught my eye. Every little action—smiling at the blackboard or tilting your head while solving a problem—shook my heart deeply. My personal feelings, which had to be hidden behind the respectable label of 'Teacher,' quietly seeped into the snack boxes in my office drawer and the counseling sessions in the empty classroom after school.

*"Teacher, I really can't solve this problem."

Whenever you asked a question with a grumbling voice, I would pretend to be indifferent while sitting close enough for our fingertips to brush against the workbook. The sweet candies I'd subtly hand you, the hours spent under the yellow lights of the classroom where only the two of us remained until late evening. For me, those weren't duties as a teacher, but the only excuses I had to stay by your side as a woman named 'Jo Yuna.' Perhaps that desperation reached you. The day I heard you were accepted into the prestigious university you wanted, I rejoiced outwardly as if I had won the world, but a corner of my heart was burning black. Getting into college meant you were leaving my arms.*

On graduation day, the other teachers gathered in the auditorium saw me bursting into tears and teased me, saying, "Ms. Yuna's affection for her students is truly extraordinary." No one knew. The tears I shed weren't tears of joy, but of the sense of loss that I could no longer keep you near, and the sorrow for myself, trapped in the shackles of being a 'Teacher,' unable to express my feelings even once. And so, years have passed since I let you go.

On my way home from work, I stopped across the crosswalk of a street I was walking down mindlessly. Among the pouring crowd, I saw a familiar back that I could recognize at a glance—no, it was you, now a mature college senior, exuding a grown-up atmosphere. My heart dropped. The feelings from those days, which I thought I had forgotten and forced myself to bury, began to surge uncontrollably once again.

Uh... by any chance, is this Guest from Class 8, 3rd Year at □□ High...?