NOVEL NEXT Chapter 3
2-1.
The first time I saw her was a few months into the school term.
The school had been abuzz with talk of a transfer student since the start of the term.
Is the arrival of a single transfer student really worth all this excitement? That’s what I thought at first. But in high school, unlike elementary or middle school, where transfers are more common, the rarity of such events—often tied to complicated reasons like academic records—made it a big deal.
The fact that she was assigned to the class right next to mine probably heightened the commotion for me.
Students would wander the hallway, sneaking glances into her classroom, creating a livelier atmosphere than usual.
As for me, I didn’t care much.
I’ve never been the type to be overly interested in others, and to me, the whole thing felt as distant as a news story from another country.
When the classmate sitting next to me suggested we go and take a look, I declined outright.
By the next day, the fuss had already died down, and the school had returned to its usual quiet.
It was as if the transfer student had been completely forgotten in an instant.
Finally, peace. I let out a sigh of relief.
I often spent my lunch breaks in the school library. It was my refuge, a sanctuary away from the noise of the classroom, which only drained me.
That day, as usual, I sat at a desk in the library with a pen in my hand, immersed in my books.
After a long while, I stretched my back and lifted my head—and that’s when I saw her, seated at the long table opposite mine.
It wasn’t hard to figure out that she was the transfer student. She was wearing a different uniform.
Later, I learned that she hadn’t had time to get the school’s uniform before transferring.
It was a uniform I’d never seen before—unsurprising, considering it wasn’t from any local school.
The blouse of her uniform had a yellow and brown pattern on the collar, starkly different from the sky-blue accents of our school’s uniform. Her tie, unlike our red bow tie, was a long, striped yellow-and-black tie.
Her shoulder-length hair swayed slightly in the gentle breeze from the library’s fan.
She held a thick book in her hands. From the cover, it seemed to be about space. It had a black background with a depiction of the Milky Way and a bold white title.
An unusual choice, I thought. But as soon as that thought crossed my mind, she lifted her head slightly, as if sensing my gaze. Our eyes met briefly before I quickly looked away, pretending to focus on my book.
Over the next few days, we ran into each other several times in the library. Occasionally, our eyes would meet, but unlike most people, she didn’t look away. Her gaze was steady and direct. Other than that, we had no interaction.
At the time, I considered her just another face in the background of my life, someone irrelevant to me.
***
It didn’t take long, however, for our paths—meant to run parallel— to unexpectedly intersect.
It was around the time when spring’s soft hues began to give way to the turquoise tints of summer.
That day, I went to the library as soon as lunch break started. When my classmates asked if I wasn’t eating, I gave a vague excuse about not feeling well.
I simply didn’t feel like eating.
Though I was hungry, I’d calculated that spending time in the quiet library was more valuable than the discomfort of skipping a meal.
When I arrived, the librarian also asked, “What about lunch?” I repeated my excuse like a parrot.
The library was empty. I wandered through the rows of shelves, letting my eyes drift over the spines of the books.
Normally, I’d sit down right away to work on my assignments or idly flip through a book, but today felt different.
I didn’t feel like studying.
Everyone has those days when doing anything feels like a chore, when the mere thought of action feels exhausting.
I strolled along the shelves, occasionally reaching out toward a book but never actually taking one. Then, my gaze landed on a familiar title.
It was the book the transfer student had been reading.
What kind of book could hold someone’s attention for days? Curiosity piqued, I pulled it from the shelf.
It was heavier than I’d expected. Flipping to the last page, I saw the number 687 printed at the bottom.
“…Carl Sagan.” I murmured the author’s name under my breath.
“Interested in that book?”
Startled by the sudden voice, I snapped the book shut and turned to the side. There she was, standing beside me, her gaze steady.
She wore the same unfamiliar uniform with its yellow-and-brown collar and skirt trimmed with a fine yellow line.
Caught off guard, I hesitated before replying.
“…Not really.”
“Then why are you holding it?”
“…It just caught my eye.” Hoping to end the conversation, I slid the book back onto the shelf and turned to leave. I wasn’t the type to chat easily with strangers, and avoidance had always been my go-to strategy in such situations.
This time, though, it didn’t work.
“Hey, didn’t you go to OO Elementary School?”
Her words stopped me in my tracks. A familiar name, spoken in an unfamiliar voice. I turned back to face her.
“…How do you know that?”
“So I was right?” A bright smile spread across her face. “I went there too. Do you remember me?”
“…Sorry, it’s been so long. I don’t think I do. Were we in the same class?”
“No, we weren’t,” she said, nodding as if to confirm something. “I think we just ran into each other a few times.”
“…I see.”
Honestly, I didn’t remember her at all. I could barely recall my classmates from back then, let alone someone I might’ve passed by a few times.
“Still, I’m good at recognizing people, aren’t I?” she said cheerfully. “I’m so glad. I didn’t know anyone here, so I was really struggling. It’s nice to find someone from the same elementary school.”
“…Yeah, it is.”
“So, how did you end up at this school? It’s pretty far from our elementary school.”
“Because of my mom’s job. We moved here after I graduated elementary school.”
“Ah, I see.” She nodded again. “I moved here right after graduating too. There was a middle school nearby with a volleyball team, so that’s where I went.”
“…A volleyball team?”
“Yeah. I was a setter.”
“Sorry, I don’t really know much about volleyball.”
“Do you know what a spiker is?”
“Is that the one who hits the ball to the other side?”
“Right. The setter sets the ball perfectly for the spiker to hit.”
“…Got it.”
Volleyball. I chose not to press further. Someone who joined a middle school volleyball team likely wasn’t doing it as a casual hobby.
And given that she had transferred to a general high school with no volleyball team, it didn’t take much imagination to guess why.
I didn’t want to bring up a potentially painful subject. It wasn’t my place, and I wasn’t curious enough to risk it.
But she didn’t seem to mind.
“I quit, though.”
She pulled a book from the shelf, glanced at its synopsis, then slid it back without much interest.
“I lost my eyesight.”
Her tone was calm, almost nonchalant.
“…What?”
“My left eye is blind,” she said, turning to look at me. Her voice was steady, as though she were recounting a trivial anecdote. “And in about six months, my right eye will be too.”
She tapped lightly beneath her right eye with her fingers.
I stood there, blinking, unable to process her words.
I couldn’t believe it.
There was nothing in her demeanor that hinted at someone facing imminent blindness.
Or maybe I just didn’t know what such a person would look like. Regardless, the girl in front of me seemed entirely ordinary.