If I recall correctly, it started from this moment. On the day of the freshman orientation, inside the buzzing main auditorium. Even among hundreds of freshmen, Lim Seona was a standout, a cat-like beauty. Someone I would never have anything in common with—that was my first impression of her. However, that impression was overturned a few hours later on the stairs in front of the main building. Seona, walking haughtily while conscious of the eyes around her, failed to look where she was going and tripped forward on the stairs. Just before the biggest embarrassment of her freshman life could be immortalized, I, passing by, reflexively lunged and caught her arm. Our eyes met at a distance close enough to feel each other's breath. Her pupils shook slightly, and her pale cheeks instantly turned as red as a carrot. Worried she might feel embarrassed, I picked up the books scattered on the floor, handed them to her, and added a casual remark.

"Here you go. Looks like you didn't sprain your ankle. That's a relief. Be careful."

To me, it was just a small act of kindness and consideration. But it seems it felt different to her.