Chapter 5
It was the first week of May, right after the second-year students had finished their first midterm exams. In Class 7, a certain boy and, in Class 4, a certain girl—normally competing back and forth in the predictable ranking—had caused an unexpected upset.
“Are they out of their minds…? Isn’t this cheating?”
The exclamations were already loud and dramatic.
“How can someone have that face, that height, that personality… and still be good at studying? Even a manga character would get roasted for this.”
As luck would have it, my seat was by the window. I could hear the moans and whispers of the girls staring outside, and it all reached me clearly.
I glanced out and saw Cha Seokyung standing under the basketball hoop. She casually tossed the ball, and it swished perfectly through the net.
I had heard so much praise for Cha Seokyung that my ears were practically itchy from it—but even so, I was genuinely surprised this time. How could someone be like that?
Perfect scores in every subject, if I remembered correctly. Especially in our school, where math was notoriously difficult—so difficult, in fact, that there hadn’t been a perfect score for almost two years.
Now, with the title of “top of the school” added to her long list of accolades, she seemed like a mythical figure: flawless in looks, academics, and athletics.
A subtle surge of resistance rose in me, but I couldn’t deny it.
Watching Cha Seokyung bounce and dribble the ball across the court, she looked almost unfairly impressive compared to her peers.
I’ve always believed that everyone possesses some innate beauty, but finding it in boys my age is tricky.
With Cha Seokyung, it wasn’t. She had an unmistakable presence. How to put it… she seemed fresh, pure, almost ethereal.
It might sound awkward describing a girl that way, but no other word seemed to fit.
Her clear, flawless complexion, delicate facial features—they all contributed to that feeling. At the same time, her overall build and posture showed enough testosterone influence to make her decidedly athletic.
I rested my chin in my hand and watched her move across the basketball court.
How tall was she, anyway?
Even from a distance, she looked tall. Up close, she easily surpassed 187 or 188 centimeters. Considering I’m not exactly short, and I had to crane my neck to look up at her, she might even be around 190 cm.
I wasn’t sure if she was kind or gentle, but the way she had checked on a girl who might have been in danger, her calm demeanor, and her unfazed, composed expression—those were all admirable traits that deserved points.
“Her family must be well off.”
“Right? She’s like some young master or something.”
That made sense. Yeah, that fit too.
Her somewhat refreshing aura wasn’t just from her flawless, acne-free skin; it was also in her appearance.
Sure, everyone wore the same school uniform, but Cha Seokyung’s shirt looked freshly laundered and perfectly ironed every day. Unlike boys who wore the same shirt for three days straight, hers had crisp, precise lines.
Her sneakers and backpack always looked brand new, and every item she carried seemed to be an expensive brand.
Not in a show-off way, though. It was more like she simply had extras for when things needed washing or drying.
What kind of person was she, really?
No one knew how she had been before transferring, where she lived, or what academies she attended.
What did she do when she went home?
How did she spend her time alone?
What did she talk about with her friends?
Did she, like other boys, like talking about girls?
And what would she do toward a girl she liked?
I realized I was genuinely surprised by my own curiosity. Since middle school, I’d never been this interested in another person, let alone a girl.
It felt strange.
“….”
Maybe sensing my gaze, Cha Seokyung turned toward me. For a moment, I thought our eyes met—but unlike before, I didn’t recoil in shock. I simply looked at her, and she returned the look.
It was almost like a silent standoff, but eventually, I was the one to look away first.
The last period of the day was P.E.
We slowly changed into our gym clothes, dragging our sneakers as we headed to the field.
Because the P.E. teacher was on leave for health reasons, Classes 2 and 7 were combined for the time being.
All the girls in our class were ecstatic that Cha Seokyung was here, but the problem was that Kim Eunho was in that class too.
The field in the late afternoon was crowded with about sixty students.
“Okay, everyone, find a partner and start practicing. Don’t drop the shuttlecock on the ground, and count how many exchanges you make. This will all be factored into your practical grade, so no slacking. Got it?”
The teacher gave a quick explanation, then, as usual, seemed ready to rest under the shade of a tree.
“You’re forever your own partner, right? Not now, though,” I raised my hand a little sheepishly.
“Yes, yes. Ji Yeonseo,” the teacher said, as if remembering something. After a brief pause, he added melodically, “Class 1 has twenty-nine students, so no. Hey, 2nd-class sports captain, your class has thirty-one, right? Who doesn’t have a partner?”
At his shout, the other kids looked over as they hurried to find partners. Standing next to the teacher and meeting all those glances was always a bit embarrassing.
At that moment, my eyes met Kim Eunho’s.
He shot me a glare that screamed, Don’t make a scene, or else. But then he winked. Laughing, he stepped forward like some kind of savior.
“I don’t have a partner,” a pleasant voice called from behind. A tall boy from the back, taller than most, raised his hand as if worried whether anyone noticed him.
“I’ll do it,” said Cha Seokyung. She hesitated for a moment, then confidently approached and handed me the badminton racket.
I bit my lower lip and held the racket tightly, feeling a pang of awkwardness as I looked at her face, now tinged with a slight trace of regret.
As kids scattered across the field, hitting shuttlecocks back and forth, Cha Seokyung and I faced each other.
The field was huge, but a few girls, including Lee Hojung, came near us. I tried not to notice, and lightly tapped the shuttlecock forward.
“…Let’s try again.”
Maybe I’d hit it too softly. The shuttlecock fell short at my feet.
I tried again, but it still barely went halfway before hitting the ground.
“Do you want to serve first?” I generously offered.
Cha Seokyung took the shuttlecock, assumed a stance, and looked fresh and neat in her dark navy short-sleeve shirt. She lightly tapped the shuttlecock, and her toned forearm flexed with just the right amount of force.
I lunged for the shuttlecock, but my result was pitiful. It ignored my effort and landed wherever it pleased.
“…Sorry.”
Even after that, things didn’t improve much. Our rally was embarrassingly short. I never thought of myself as clumsy, but this was humiliating. Even with the teacher, I hadn’t been this bad.
I looked at Cha Seokyung sheepishly, having apologized almost every other serve.
Honestly, part of me believed she wouldn’t get angry. The gentle, kind—or indifferent and composed—Cha Seokyung wouldn’t care. She’d just say it’s fine or remain emotionless. Badminton or not.
“….”
But when our eyes met, that thought vanished.
A faint trace of irritation lingered at her brow and the corners of her eyes. Maybe because of our poor rally or her concerns about her grade, she looked slightly uncomfortable.
I realized she actually took badminton seriously. No wonder her grades were so high.
I opened my mouth to apologize again, but the bell rang.
“Everyone, gather! Put the shuttlecocks in this basket and the rackets over there.”
Following the teacher’s directions, we sorted the equipment. But the rackets were thrown haphazardly into the yellow box.
“Ha, you kids never clean up! Would you treat your own stuff like this? …Who had the fewest rally counts today?”
The teacher’s gaze swept over the students, but it didn’t settle on Cha Seokyung.
“Let’s see… who’s the best…” The teacher, wearing tinted glasses, finally pointed at Cha Seokyung and me. “You two, Ji Yeonseo and Cha Seokyung, look the neatest. Organize these properly and put them in the storage.”
Some girl complained it seemed discriminatory, but the teacher just laughed and walked away.
Probably, he noticed me struggling to return Cha Seokyung’s toss.
Cha Seokyung silently began organizing the rackets into the yellow box. She politely refused help and worked swiftly.
I moved to do my part but bumped shoulders with Lee Hojung. Ignoring the giggling, teasing Kim Eunho and friends, I finally began organizing too.
Cha Seokyung worked quickly and neatly, stacking the rackets and carrying the box toward the storage. I quietly followed with the basket of shuttlecocks.
Inside the storage, the faint scent of sand mixed with gym mats, vaulting equipment, and nets filled with balls.
Cha Seokyung effortlessly set the boxes down and picked up a stray shuttlecock.
“Sorry, I’m not good at ball sports,” she said quietly, almost apologetically.
“Do you want to switch partners?” she asked as she stood, brushing off the shuttlecock.
“Who would I switch with?”
“I’ll stick with the teacher, as before,” I replied.
She straightened, and our eyes met at a mere two steps apart. My heart raced at the closeness.
Her tone was cool but commanding.
“Are you usually like this?”
“…Like what?”
“Do you like attracting attention from others?”
“…Like what?”
Her eyebrows knitted slightly as she studied me. Cha Seokyung’s gaze was sincere, ignoring my flustered expression.
“Hey, Cha Seokyung, do you even know me?”
We weren’t friends. We had exchanged words maybe twice. Beyond attending the same school, we knew nothing about each other.
How could she know if I had tried to attract attention or not? Or anything about my personality?
Cha Seokyung didn’t answer, but leisurely scanned my face: eyes, nose, lips.
Just as my face threatened to turn red, she stopped and walked past me.
I stood there, stunned, feeling as if cold water had been poured over me, collecting my lingering frustration and indignation.
