I didn't like people who lacked effort, not those without talent.
Maybe that's why I couldn't particularly like that girl named Kanna Aurora who didn't put in any effort despite being given hints once or twice. I just thought, "So there's someone like that," and wanted to turn off my attention to her completely.
At first, I wanted to help her since she seemed to be at the bottom of the class despite studying, but after seeing how she only pretended to try once when Orca gave her a hint, then immediately gave up and lost focus, my interest faded.
I just wanted to dismiss her as that kind of person.
The type who only makes an effort when someone's watching, then puts in absolutely no work afterward.
People like that clearly wouldn't make any effort at home either. If they wouldn't study at school, they certainly wouldn't do it at home.
Initially, when she said she wanted to be friends with Orca, I also offered to be her friend, but the next day when she showed that same lack of focus again, I was considerably disappointed and had no particular desire to get close to her.
I mostly thought, "If she's not going to try, she'll figure out her own life later."
But the problem erupted during class.
"Um, has anyone seen Kanna?"
During our homeroom teacher's class, one seat was empty.
Everyone turned their heads as soon as the teacher spoke. Only then did most people react with, "Oh, she's not here?"
I was the same way.
I didn't think I needed to pay any particular attention.
But I sensed this wasn't just a simple matter.
"...Is she still on the rooftop?"
When the teacher's voice caused a momentary stir, I stood up. I thought I could at least grab someone trying to jump from the rooftop.
"I'll go check."
"W-would you, please?"
Seeing the teacher's pale face, it seemed she was assuming the worst scenario. Orca, sitting next to me, was no different.
She looked at me once with trembling eyes, then closed her mouth.
I left the classroom with the teacher's permission and ran to the stairs, leaving that gaze behind.
Was she going to make an extreme choice out of despair for being at the bottom of the class? Surely not.
Even as I tried to turn my eyes away from the worst-case scenario, I couldn't shake that ominous thought as I quickly went up and slightly opened the door to the rooftop to look inside.
Kanna Aurora was holding onto the railing, quietly muttering to herself.
"...I wonder what I'd see if I jumped."
My heart pounded.
It seemed exactly like what someone would say right before jumping, and it terrified me. Was it because I'd never seen someone trying to die before?
Hearing those words, I burst through the door I'd been holding and shouted.
"Calm down. Just calm down and step away from the railing."
Kanna stared at me blankly for a moment, then turned her gaze to the railing she was holding. Then she answered quietly.
"...Why do you care what I do?"
Her sharp tone made my body freeze.
I knew she was right—what she did wasn't my business. But that only applied to personal matters in normal situations, not when someone was about to die.
My lips trembled.
I averted my gaze from those purple eyes. The railing—even if she threw herself off, I could probably save her.
Thinking this, I swallowed hard. I was determined to at least try to keep her from falling.
*
Step away from the railing? Did he think I was going to throw myself off?
I couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity. The idea that I, who was struggling to live and didn't want this ending to be miserable, would suddenly commit suicide was ridiculous.
Even as I thought this, I found it laughable. I was so depressed that I'd drawn the protagonist to this meaningless place with my brooding—if that wasn't the problem, what was?
I was depressed. I felt pathetic for not even being sure what I wanted to do.
I wanted to do well too.
When I first read this story, I wanted to somehow overcome the protagonist's trials using only what was given to him.
But apparently, I couldn't do that.
I should have just pushed through with my eyes closed, but being ignored by everyone and being laughed at were things I found too difficult to endure. I couldn't persevere like the protagonist.
I felt self-loathing. I didn't want to blame anyone else for it.
I had snapped at him asking what business it was of his, but ultimately it was all my fault. If the bottom-ranked student was standing holding the railing, it might look like I wanted to kill myself.
As I was caressing the railing I was holding, Ha-min, who was facing me from across the rooftop, tried to soothe me.
"...What do you mean, why do I care? Seeing this... I can't just say nothing..."
Hearing his halting voice, I slumped my shoulders.
There was no point in getting into an emotional argument with Yoon Ha-min here, so I let go of the railing.
"I suppose so."
I had nothing to say.
It was the right thing to say, and I knew that fighting by nitpicking his words would just be a dirty battle stained with my own messy emotions.
Besides, I hadn't particularly wanted to die, so there was no reason to resist.
"...You made the right choice."
"Yoon Ha-min."
I spoke his name as he sighed in relief.
Honestly, I wasn't expecting much. It was obvious that both teachers and students would turn their eyes away from me and dismiss everything I said as nonsense, so if I got my hopes up, I'd only hurt myself more.
But there were still too many things I hadn't tried, and it was too early to give up now, so I had to speak.
"Yes...?"
Hearing his confused voice, I swallowed.
How much should I tell him? Should I tell him everything since he's the protagonist?
But even when I told the teacher what was right in front of her, she didn't believe me. So no matter how much I said, he probably wouldn't believe me right away.
So this was all I could say.
"...Can you believe me just once?"
"About what...?"
Since I wasn't expecting him to believe me unconditionally, I carefully opened my mouth.
"Two weeks from now... on the day of the third exam, you shouldn't be here. Monsters will attack here, but the town near the Wall will be in danger. There are no Academy teachers or students there."
It was the same thing I had told our homeroom teacher earlier.
Ha-min frowned when he heard this. He had the same expression of doubting what he'd just heard.
Information from the future was always like this.
It wasn't something you could just try on a whim, like lottery numbers, thinking, "Let's see if it's true."
Believing my words meant not just saying you believed them, but actually believing monsters would appear and going to protect the town near the Wall.
And to do that, he would have to leave the Academy on the day of the third exam.
I was asking him to give up the exam and come out for just a little while.
"...Wait, what are you talking about?"
"Exactly what I said."
If he pressed me on where this information came from, I would have nothing to say. But I didn't want to start off on the wrong foot.
When the time came for explanations, I could do it properly then. For now, I just wanted him to believe me.
Ha-min's confused expression. His eyes wandered through empty space before landing on me. I gave him an unwavering look, as if to say I was telling the truth, and at that moment, his expression subtly hardened.
I decided not to get my hopes up, figuring he wouldn't believe such nonsense from someone he'd just thought was about to commit suicide.
It was the first thing I learned—or rather, experienced firsthand—since coming here.
How to endure a little longer despite being ignored or despised.
How not to expect anything, and thus not be disappointed.
How to endure loneliness, at least a little.
It was quite difficult for a social animal like a human to learn such things, but thankfully, being adaptable creatures, we somehow manage to endure.
So it didn't matter if he didn't believe me. Even if Yoon Ha-min didn't come, I was planning to find something to do on my own anyway.
It's okay to be powerless, to be incompetent.
If there's something I know in advance, even small clues will appear larger to me.
As I was making this new resolution, Yoon Ha-min's tightly closed lips opened.
"...How do you know something like this? Are you some kind of spy?"
He was immediately asking for verification of the information. Since it was within the range of normal behavior, I answered quietly.
"No, I'm not asking you to believe me blindly, but I'm not a spy."
I wasn't an ordinary student either, but I couldn't go that far in my explanation.
Honestly, there's nothing more foolish than telling someone information about their future, but if it could help, if the protagonist could somehow overcome it with his power, then I couldn't ask for more.
I was clutching at straws. I didn't think I could handle it alone.
"..."
Ha-min lowered his head. He seemed to be contemplating whether to seriously believe this or not.
The straw—should he let it go? Should he grasp it?
"...Can you give me time to think about it?"
"...Of course."
Since he hadn't completely dismissed it, could I allow myself a little hope?
No, that couldn't be.
Don't expect too much.
The moment you expect something, your disappointment only grows larger.