This World is too Cruel to Men

I didn’t think that a kindergarten connection would last a lifetime.

This isn’t some novel or manga, after all.

That kind of thing only happens in fiction.

No matter how close friends are, they’re bound to part ways eventually.

I’d already experienced that countless times in the first round.

But…this is different.

Not this suddenly.

No, fine. Let’s say it’s all good.

Let’s just pretend it’s all good…but look at Bora’s face.

Does that look like the face of someone being congratulated?

Is she holding back an explosion of joy, trying to suppress it like that?

‘As if.’

For seven-year-olds, their parents and kindergarten friends are literally their whole world.

And they’re just going to change all that so suddenly?

Just imagining myself in Bora’s shoes made my stomach churn.

It was worse because I understood why she had to move.

It had to be because of some adult matter.

As Teacher sometimes show us, this thing called “talent” is incredibly powerful.

But even if you Awaken a talent, can you control it as freely as if you were born with it?

Of course not.

Education to control an Awakened talent is a necessity, not a choice.

Especially considering that among the many talents, some could cause serious harm to others if misused.

So, could that kind of education be possible in an ordinary kindergarten like ours?

Of course not.

That’s why Bora had to transfer.

Understanding all of that made it even more frustrating.

I wasn’t the only one shocked by Bora’s sudden transfer, which felt like a bolt from the blue.

Yun-seo, sitting a little distance away, looked completely stunned.

Her expression…it was like she’d been backstabbed by someone she knew better than her closest friend, someone she’d considered a fierce rival for so long.

Well…that’s a natural reaction.

Over the past few weeks, they’d been sitting on either side of me, bickering and accumulating begrudging affection like it was a housing subscription savings account.

And now, one of them was suddenly leaving…it would be stranger if she wasn’t shocked.

Besides, Yun-seo and Bora are only seven.

Any kind of separation is painful, but at their age, it’s bound to be even more so.

‘I hope she’s not too upset…’

It seemed like I wasn’t the only one who had developed a grudging affection for them.

Because of what I’d been through, I’d thought of them as cute but annoying little kids who bothered me, but now that things had turned out this way, I was worried about both of them.

“Now, then…”

Is this really goodbye?

Is she just going to leave after a simple farewell?

If that’s really it, I’d be beyond disappointed and bitter; I’d be downright annoyed.

It wouldn’t change anything if I got annoyed, but that’s how I felt.

Fortunately, the adults weren’t completely heartless.

Bora, responding to the Teacher’s carefully spoken words, exchanged a brief glance with her before gently placing her backpack on the floor.

Her expression remained glum.

Her lips were tightly pressed together.

But as if she knew she had to do what she had to do, Bora reached into her bag and pulled something out.

Letters, sealed in purple envelopes, just like Bora’s name.

Was she trying to say what she couldn’t with letters since everything had happened so abruptly?

It wasn’t the kid’s fault, and she was leaving for a good reason.

I was internally lamenting that they had to rush things so much, not even giving her time to say goodbye to her friends when my turn came.

“Um…here…”

Bora held out an envelope, somehow different from the ones she’d given the other kids.

I couldn’t think of anything to say.

It felt like someone had glued my mouth shut.

I couldn’t bring myself to speak.

All I could do was nod once, biting my lip.

Back in my seat, I continued to nibble on my lip.

Yun-Seo, who had been sitting next to me, carefully stood up, seemingly deciding it was her turn to go.

Judging by her expression, she still hadn’t recovered from the shock.

But her expression didn’t last long.

“Huh? Why are you getting up?”

Bora’s words stopped Yun-Seo in her tracks.

It was as if she hadn’t prepared a letter for Yun-Seo.

‘Wait a minute…’

This…doesn’t seem like an act…?

Just a moment ago, Bora’s hands had been full of envelopes, but now they were empty.

‘No, even so…’

Is she seriously turning this into a power struggle until the very end?

I thought they’d become a bit closer, but was I wrong?

Is this the so-called cutthroat world of women?

The unexpected situation left me reeling, my head spinning with useless thoughts.

If I, a bystander, felt this way, how must Yun-Seo be feeling?

Bora’s implication that she didn’t have a letter for Yun-Seo made her bristle, declaring she didn’t need one either.

But after Bora left, Yun-Seo started to…well, dig a hole.

Figuratively, of course.

It seemed that being the only one left out, especially when everyone else received a letter, was incredibly hurtful and upsetting.

And it happened right next to me, so even though I wanted to open the letter Bora had given me, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I felt too awkward.

How could I?

Even Satan himself wouldn’t be able to do such a thing in my place.

‘I should try to comfort her…’

I felt like I had to.

If I left her like this, either her fingerprints would wear off from her anxious fidgeting, or she’d bore a hole through the floor that the Principal had personally installed.

One of those two things was bound to happen.

Or maybe both.

It was a good thing we were indoors.

If we were outside in the yard?

Yun-Seo would probably be digging her way to the Earth’s core by now.

The problem was, I couldn’t think of a way to comfort her.

The situation was just that awkward.

I couldn’t just try anything randomly, either. Asking someone who’s sulking, “Hey, are you sulking?” is a cardinal sin.

And if you break that rule?

‘That’s when hell begins…’

Because of the delicate situation, I couldn’t do anything. Before I knew it, the bus had stopped in front of my house, and I was getting off.

‘This is bad…’

If I let her go without even the slightest attempt at damage control, tomorrow would be even worse.

How could I be so sure?

Because I’d experienced a similar situation before.

So I had to do something here and now—

‘What should I do…’

Clutching my Mom’s hand as she talked to the Teacher, I thought for a moment before calling out to Yun-Seo, who was about to leave with her Dad.

“Hey, Yun-Seo…!”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, her head, which had been facing forward, turned towards me as if asking what was wrong.

“About the letter Bora gave you…do you want to read it together?”

Honestly…I regretted it as soon as I said it.

It was like bragging about a gacha pull in front of someone who just spent all their resources and got nothing. What was I even doing?

‘Wow…I’m so screwed…’

At this point, I figured I had no choice but to face Yun-Seo’s wrath head-on and atone for my thoughtless bragging, but—

‘…Huh?’

Curiosity, that intangible yet powerful force that supposedly kills cats, extended a helping hand to me, pulling me out of the mire.

Had curiosity triumphed over anger, annoyance, and hurt feelings?

Yun-Seo, with a thoughtful look on her face, pondered with a hum, then tugged on her Dad’s hand.

“Huh? Yun-Seo, what’s wrong?”

“Dad, can I go play at Dokgun’s house?”

“Uh, well? Shouldn’t you ask Dokgun’s mother, not me?”

Yun-Seo immediately switched targets.

And my Mom, who can’t resist anything cute, was utterly defenseless against Yun-Seo’s determined offensive.

“I’d always welcome Yun-Seo to come over and play!”

And so, just like last time, we ended up sitting at the table with a plate piled high with cookies.

The arrangement was a little different this time, though.

Last time, we sat facing each other across the table.

Today…we were sitting side-by-side.

Why was there this sense of closeness?

“…Aren’t you going to read the letter?”

“I, I will.”

I had to read it now, but—

“Um, Yun-Seo?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s kind of hot, could you sit a little further away…?”

Was that too much to ask?

“It’s not that hot.”

Apparently so.