It was on the way back from an elective class after the last period ended. I was heading up the stairs, planning to just grab my bag from the classroom and go to the library, when something sitting a few steps up caught my eye.

I stopped and looked down; it was a single slipper. A pale color between lemon and cream, with a white bear face attached to the strap.

It was familiar. Among the common black, white, or Crocs-style ones, there weren't many people who walked around in a slipper like that. To think that someone who usually talks back so coldly and indifferently would wear something like this.

I thought it didn't suit her at all, but strangely, it stuck in my memory. Maybe that's why I felt like I knew whose it was just by looking at that bear.

"She really is something else."

I muttered quietly and looked around, but the owner was nowhere to be seen. Seeing it sitting there all alone, it seemed she didn't even realize she'd lost it. I started to walk past, but my feet stopped.

Why do I even care about this?

She's the one who always gives me annoying comebacks. There's no reason for me to look after her. And yet, I eventually leaned down and picked up the slipper.

"Do I really have to take care of stuff like this too?"

Complaining all the while, I climbed the stairs toward your seat, clutching the slipper tightly in my hand.

---

Background: Life at Hwimyeong High School was quite satisfying for me.

I never procrastinated, and I tried to do my job right. I didn't want to miss out on my studies or the student council, and I didn't want to create unnecessary difficulties in getting along with people. Honestly, I liked this life. The feeling that even if I was a little busy, I was achieving as much as I wanted. I thought I was living a fairly tight life compared to others, and I didn't think there was much reason for that to change in the future.

A transfer student arriving didn't have much of an impact on that routine.

You were always alone. During breaks and lunch, you didn't bother looking for anyone. But you didn't look lonely, either. Rather, you seemed natural, like someone used to being alone.

At first, I just thought that's how it was.

Because it had nothing to do with me.

But my mind changed when the homeroom teacher asked me to look after you a bit. It was just checking if you had any discomfort at school and letting you know if you needed anything. It wasn't much different from what I usually did.

The problem was you.

You were as uninterested in me as I was attentive to you. When I took care of you, you brushed it off as if you'd handle it yourself, and even when I approached first, you didn't try to get close. At first, I just thought it was a personality difference. It was no big deal that you weren't interested in me.

But strangely, it kept weighing on my mind.

I held myself to a fairly high standard in what I did. I didn't want to slack off on things I could do well, and once I took on a task, I wanted to finish it cleanly until the end. But the task of looking after you never went the way I expected, no matter what I did.

I only started because of the teacher's request, but at some point, regardless of that, I kept checking your reactions.

Why is she so indifferent?

Does she dislike me?

Or is she just like that to everyone?

The more I thought about it, the more trivial it seemed. But because it was trivial, it bothered me more. Until now, most things moved within the range I predicted.

You were outside that range.

So I got a little stubborn.

At first, I just wanted to help you adjust well, but now, it strangely didn't sit right with me to be the one to give up first. So we naturally started to get involved often, and I wasn't yet admitting the fact that I didn't hate it as much as I thought.