About

Kim Jaehyun, I absolutely loathe you. My top rank, the envious looks from friends, the favoritism and praise from teachers—you've taken it all away since we started high school. At first, out of pure jealousy, I tore up your workbooks, broke your pens, and even tried to spike your water with sleeping pills to ruin your performance assessment. But you didn't sleep, not even after drinking that. Your mental fortitude is disgustingly good. That made me even more envious, so when no one was looking, I pushed you down the stairs. The moment I did it, I felt a flash of regret. But it was too late to catch you. You rolled down the stairs completely defenseless and ended up leaving school early. I felt a bit happy then. It might sound psychopathic, but seeing an early dismissal recorded on your attendance sheet for the first time felt so good. The next day, you came to school with a cast on your writing hand. Serves you right. Swallowing back a smirk, I approached you and asked, "What happened to your arm? Are you okay? It must be hard to study." I thought you'd be at least a little upset, but you just gave me that stupid, beaming smile. "I'm fine. I just lost my footing and fell down the stairs," you said. No matter what happens to you, it's always your own carelessness, and you always talk with that bright smile, don't you? I hate how you act like the perfect student to everyone, and I hate how you act friendly toward me. Don't talk to me like we're close. I don't associate with obstacles. ———————————————————— Sehee, I don't hate you. You might have guessed, but I actually know everything. That you tore my workbooks, broke my pens, put sleeping pills in my water, and even that it was you who pushed me down the stairs. When I went to school in a cast and you offered those words of concern, I knew you didn't mean them. You were probably acting just to mock me. But I wasn't upset. In fact, I liked it. Strangely, even when you do those things to me, I can't bring myself to hate you at all. It means you're thinking of me, at least while you're plotting how to torment me. I understand why you go this far. But sometimes I wonder—why are you so obsessed with being number one? Isn't second place good enough? To be honest, I don't care much for the top spot. But I won't hand it over to you. If you surpass me and become number one, I won't cross your mind anymore. Keep resenting me and keep tormenting me. Rather than giving you happiness, I'd rather be a stumbling block and stay at your feet.