It was mid-summer, and the gentle breeze swayed the grass and trees. Under the shade of a tree sat a girl with black hair, the strands almost reaching her waist. The breeze lifted her hair from time to time, and she would tuck the unruly strands behind her ears absentmindedly.
The rustling sound of pages being turned was inaudible amidst the enthusiastic shouts of the students. The young girl, relaxing and reading a novel, became quite conspicuous among the students who were training fervently.
She received furtive glances for being "lazy" and "resting" while everyone else was working hard, but she ignored them all, as if she were in another world where outside noises were nonexistent.
Placing a bookmark inside, Yuna closed the book and sighed.
The novels were as cringey and hard to swallow as ever.
"At this rate, I'll have the impulse to write novels on my own, QAQ."
Yuna was filled with emotion. She missed her modern world, where countless web novels were at her fingertips. Over time, she had thought she wouldn't miss Earth, but as days passed and the emptiness in her heart grew due to the lack of good novels, she realized she did miss it—more precisely, she missed her cellphone.
Looking toward the training ground, Yuna's gaze landed on a boy with golden hair, sparkling under the bright sun.
"Sparkling as ever, tsk."
Austin's increasingly good looks displeased Yuna at times, leaving a sour taste in her mouth—especially when she went home, looked into the mirror, and noticed her own increasingly pale, ghost-like appearance caused by the stark contrast between her skin and black hair.
The striking young boy, as if sensing the gaze he adored, turned and met a pair of obsidian-black eyes.
He smiled lightly, warm and mellow.
Yuna, though reluctant, forced a small smile and nodded at him out of courtesy.
"I really hate God-favored good-looking people!"
Yuna remained salty and sour as ever.
Not wanting to look any longer, she lowered her head and reopened her book, pretending to read.
After class, Yuna went home with Austin, who liked to stick close to her. If he wasn't hunting beasts or training, most of his remaining time was spent beside her, which annoyed Yuna, who preferred solitude.
It wasn't that she wanted to be the only person in the world. Humans needed other humans; otherwise, life would be too lonely. Humans were social animals.
The existence of many other people gave her a sense of comfort, but she didn't like being with them, nor engaging deeply or forming close relationships. Knowing that humans existed alongside her was enough; she didn't need to connect with them, nor did she want to.
Yet Yuna found it difficult to drive away Austin, who silently approached her with a warm attitude. She could only treat him perfunctorily, hoping he would lose enthusiasm. That was also why she didn't want him to label her as a good person and why she spoke in a somewhat commanding tone, as if looking down on his helplessness and helping him with hypocritical sympathy.
She deliberately created distance between them, turning their relationship into one of charity giver and receiver rather than equals—someone who donated, and someone who could only accept without the means to return it.
She gave, and he received. That was all he could do.
For Yuna, her ego was too large to gratefully receive charity from others. She would rather perish than accept sympathy. Her pride was enormous. Even when others helped her with good intentions, she felt as if they were secretly looking down on her. That was why, even when unfortunate or facing loss, she never sought help or sympathy.
She also felt uncomfortable and burdened when receiving things from others, feeling obligated to return something even when no reciprocation was expected. She wasn't good at accepting kindness.
On the contrary, Yuna liked helping others when she felt like it and when she could, because it satisfied her vanity. She helped not to make others happy, but because it made her feel good. It was a selfish reason.
Indeed, she wasn't a good person, nor did she strive to be one.
Austin's growing attachment made her feel uncomfortable and fed up.
Eventually, she asked in a roundabout, sarcastic manner, "Have you practiced that sword technique? You keep coming to see me as if you have a lot of free time."
Austin smiled warmly as usual and replied, "I mainly practice at night. I try to allocate my time well so I can spend a few more hours with you."
Yuna choked on the straightforward reply. They said sword masters were frank and direct, and it seemed to be true.
Also—how ambiguous his words were!
She was only eleven years old—well, physically.
Austin, dear friend, you're a mature adult. Could you think about your wording a little more? And who wants to spend time with you? Give me back my solitude!
Although Yuna ranted internally, her year-round impassive expression remained perfectly intact. Her facial muscles disliked excessive movement. She didn't like maintaining expressions either—it drained her energy and made her feel hollow. Constantly smiling, responding out of politeness, engaging in social interactions—it all left her empty and tired.
In this other world, Yuna had become unrestrained. She no longer wanted to be falsely expressive. She didn't want to be expressive at all.
Anyway.
"I see… but you don't have to. You should practice more," Yuna said.
And let me see the sword-splitting technique as soon as possible!
"I'll increase my night training so I can show you the technique sooner. It was a gift from you, and I want you to see it as soon as possible," Austin replied, as if reading her thoughts.
'Well, it's not a gift. It's charity—and me fulfilling my own desire! Don't interpret things however you like!'
"You don't have to increase your night training. You can start earlier instead of accompanying me at the apothecary store and waiting for me while I learn potion-making," Yuna persisted.
"I like spending time with you," Austin said. He searched Yuna's eyes and asked cautiously, as if afraid, "Do you not like spending time with me?"
Bruh, do you hear what you're saying?!
"I like the feeling of solitude."
This time, Yuna replied frankly, determined to drive him away and reclaim her peace.
Any normal person would feel ashamed or uncomfortable and back off after such a tacit refusal. Unfortunately, Austin wasn't normal. He had grown up in a sick environment and endured ten years of apocalypse.
"I'll just silently accompany you and not disturb you. Don't drive me away, okay?" he said in a pleading tone, like he was coaxing a child.
"No. We meet at school every day," Yuna refused coldly.
Did she look like a child who could be coaxed so easily? She was an adult at heart too!
Austin only smiled and said nothing more.
Yuna thought it was settled—that they had reached an understanding and she would finally regain her solitude. But the next day, Austin still walked home with her. Not beside her, but at a distance. He didn't talk to her. He even entered the apothecary store, pulled over a stool, and silently accompanied her without saying a word.
"I said you don't have to stay with me," Yuna said, pressing her lips into a thin line.
Austin only smiled softly—so softly that instead of melting her heart, it gave her the creeps.
"I will just silently accompany you and not disturb you," he said again.
He had always been persistent. And so, he persisted in staying by her side.
His response made Yuna realize that reasoning with him was pointless.
"Do whatever you want," she said coldly.
Don't blame her if she ignored him and treated him like air.
Especially when she read novels—she often forgot the existence of everyone else. She had restrained herself around Austin to maintain basic social courtesy, but since he insisted on sticking around after she clearly told him off, she wouldn't hold back anymore. She would ignore him freely, without guilt.
Whether he felt neglected or uncomfortable, she no longer cared.
She had already given enough face.