47) Interlude. Why?
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I don’t understand.
Why did Rua have to quit school when she did nothing wrong?
Why did people hate her so much?
Why did her name spread online, why did they call her “the witch,” why did they attach those awful nicknames?
From the very first moment Soi met Rua, she thought of her as a younger sister. She knew Rua was actually born first, so technically Rua should be the older one.
But when she looked at her, she just couldn’t see her as an older sister.
Rua was someone she wanted to protect, hug, and adore.
So from the beginning until now, she had always thought of Rua as her little sister.
“……”
After Rua disappeared from the classroom, Soi expected something to change.
She thought the kids would reflect, realize what they’d done wrong, and maybe even miss Rua.
Because Rua’s absence left such a huge hole.
The Rua who always held her hand on the way to school.
The Rua who smiled awkwardly at her jokes.
The Rua who trembled but still let herself be hugged and petted.
Even if the kids hadn’t liked Rua that much, once things calmed down and they realized something had gone wrong, maybe—just maybe—if Rua came back, they could be friends again.
…That day never came.
For the first few days, many kids didn’t come to school. They said they were too scared after what happened.
The broken window was fixed the next day. The bloodstains from the bird were cleaned completely.
The empty seats slowly filled again. After about a month, everyone was back.
Except Rua.
And every kid who returned glanced at Rua’s empty seat and sighed.
As if they were relieved she wasn’t there.
Why?
Soi wanted to ask.
Why? Why do you make that face?
You were friends. You hugged her, called her cute, played with her. Some of you knew her since elementary school. You knew she wasn’t the kind of person to hurt anyone.
So why now?
For two weeks, Soi didn’t speak to anyone in her class.
It was her way of holding herself back.
If she opened her mouth, all her anger would spill out. Especially in front of the kids she’d known since elementary school—she might say something she couldn’t take back.
“Soi.”
But eventually, someone approached her.
“Um… want to eat lunch together?”
“Why?”
Soi tilted her head.
Why?
Why are you talking to me? After everything?
“H‑huh?”
The girl stepped back, startled.
Soi had always been the smiling one. The one who greeted everyone, made friends with everyone, even kids from other grades.
Seeing her look up with no expression at all was unsettling.
Maybe that was understandable.
Almost no one had “openly bullied” Rua.
Only a few had whispered behind her back loudly enough for her to hear. Most simply acted like Rua didn’t exist after the incident.
And now that Rua was gone, they thought it was safe to approach Soi again.
“Why?”
Soi asked again.
She genuinely didn’t understand.
To her, a friend was just a friend. No “more” or “less.” Just a friend.
And she couldn’t understand how someone could throw away a friend so easily.
You could ask why. You could try to understand. You could realize it wasn’t Rua’s fault.
So why?
Why act like everything you knew was a lie? Why act like Rua was some villain?
Why change so suddenly?
“Why?”
“Uh, well, I mean…”
The girl stuttered.
She should’ve asked Rua.
Rua would’ve said yes. Rua would’ve gone with her, even awkwardly, even shyly.
Soi remembered Rua’s face when she talked with Ji‑hye and Mirae about games and comics—how bright she looked.
She would’ve gone happily.
“I don’t want to.”
Soi finally answered.
Because all of them were saying:
Soi is fine, but Rua isn’t.
And anyone who thought that way was someone Soi didn’t want.
When she turned her gaze to the window, the girl fled.
Soi didn’t feel like eating anymore. She stared outside, thinking.
What was Rua doing at home? Was she crying? Did she eat properly?
“Hey.”
“……”
“Hey.”
“……”
After being called twice, Soi frowned and turned.
The first thing she saw was bright pink hair.
Chae‑yi—who wasn’t even in her class, who didn’t have many friends, yet walked in confidently and spoke to her.
“Want to eat?”
Soi stared for a moment, then shrugged.
“Okay.”
She finally stood up.
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When Rua was around, kids whispered about Soi too. But once Soi and Chae‑yi started spending time together, everyone shut their mouths.
Maybe they judged people by averages.
When smiling, both Soi and Chae‑yi looked harmless. But when silent, both looked intimidating.
And both came from powerful families. Kids at this school were well‑off, but not that well‑off. Normally, kids like Soi and Chae‑yi didn’t attend regular schools.
So picking a fight with them was stupid.
With Rua between them—Rua who always looked scared—maybe they seemed “approachable.”
But seeming approachable and being approachable were different.
So whether they made new friends or not, when they sat at someone else’s table during lunch, the original owners simply avoided them.
“So, you know. Seo Rua—”
“Hey. Hey.”
Whenever someone mentioned Rua—
Both girls turned their gaze toward the speaker.
Not a blank stare.
A stare that said: Go on. Say one more word.
And even if the kid didn’t say more, Soi and Chae‑yi would stand up and walk over.
“What were you trying to say?”
Soi asked with a smile.
The same smile she used before she stopped being friends with everyone.
But the feeling behind it was completely different.
“Did Rua contact you?”
Chae‑yi asked, also smiling.
Unlike Soi, Chae‑yi had never smiled like that before.
A bright smile filled with anger.
“N‑no…”
“Then why bring her up?”
“Uh, well…”
They didn’t say anything else.
They just stared.
And the kids realized:
Oh. These two aren’t the type to stay quiet.
One could set herself on fire and be fine.
The other—her ability didn’t matter against non‑superhumans, but she trained constantly.
“W‑why? Can’t I talk about her?”
The kid tried to resist.
And immediately got lifted by the collar.
“When I ask you something,” Soi said, leaning in,
“answer. Why?”
The classroom went silent.
Even with eyes watching, neither Soi nor Chae‑yi cared.
If the teacher hadn’t rushed in, Soi might’ve gone further.
The story reached the kid’s parents.
They were furious.
But soon, everything quieted down.
Not because Yujin—Soi’s mother—did anything.
But because everyone knew why Rua quit school.
Everyone knew how much Yujin loved her.
Everyone knew how devastated Yujin and Dohyun were.
If they quit their jobs out of despair, the loss would be enormous.
From ordinary people to those in high places—no one wanted that.
On the surface, nothing seemed to change.
But many people understood.
And Yujin’s friends—who were very much like Soi—were not the type to ignore her pain.
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