Earlier that day – Student Council Office
"Are they ever going to stop?" Ice muttered, his tone sharp as he tossed yet another folder into the trash beside his desk. The stack on his table kept growing like it had a personal grudge against him.
"I told them it wouldn't be possible," replied the Vice President, a composed girl with glasses and a neat ponytail. She didn't even look up from her own pile of paperwork.
Ice opened another folder and flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning fast—but it was pointless. Same request, same rejection.
Just then, the door burst open. "Pres, we have a problem!" the student council secretary panted, slightly out of breath.
Ice didn't even look up. "I already have a lot of problems, miss Secretary," he said, irritation seeping into his voice.
"There's a fight," she added, this time more hesitantly. "Gio's trying to break it up."
Great, he thought dryly. Since when does the treasurer handle discipline?
He stood and grabbed his blazer.
"I'll take care of it. VP, take over the paperwork," he ordered, voice curt. No one dared argue—his temper was on full display today.
On his way out, he passed a group of students lounging around the benches near the Student Building. Their voices were low but not quite enough.
"That transferee from second year…"
"The pretty one?"
"She's not pretty, she's just rich."
"She wears designer accessories every day—total show off."
"I think she's gorgeous."
"She probably has an attitude."
"She's got way too many admirers already."
The voices blended together in his memory. He had passed them earlier this morning, and even then, he was sure they were talking about Fire.
A brat, he had thought then—and maybe even smirked a little. Honestly, that was his first impression, too.
But thinking back on it now... he started to wonder. Why did people—himself included—think that way so easily?
Fire looked expensive. Not just because of the designer clothes, but because she made everything look expensive. No matter what she wore, she stood out. Her presence was loud, unapologetic, and somehow magnetic. People who couldn't match that aura got intimidated. That intimidation turned into judgment.
For them, it's jealousy. For me… it's irritation.
Still, her image flickered through his mind like a slideshow:
"Ice!" — She wore the usual school uniform: skirt and blouse, running down the hallway with that familiar grin.
"Icy!" — She stood in the kitchen with an apron on, a mess already forming around her. A disaster waiting to happen.
"Ice-su!" — When she slipped and fell on the floor of his apartment, completely unbothered by the chaos she caused.
"Aysuu!" — She was crying in the pastry shop, eyes red and swollen, voice trembling with each tear.
Like the main character in a movie, she always had her own sparkly backdrop—everyone behind her faded into a blur and didn't matter.
Too friendly, he thought.
Maybe some people were just gifted… but definitely not in everything. Especially not cooking. She was a walking disaster in the kitchen.
"Ice-su!" a voice called.
He half-opened an eye, wondering if he was hallucinating.
"Icy? Are you sleeping?"
Her face filled his vision, and with that familiar radiant smile, everything behind her faded into a blur of sparkles—like she carried her own spotlight.
The light was too bright—he instinctively shut his eyes again.
Nope. Not a hallucination.
"Icy!" She called again, louder and more demanding.
Only one person on earth would dare call him that—and be dumb enough to ask if he was sleeping while he was obviously asleep.
He cracked his eyes open—and there she was.
Fire. Inches from his face, eyes sparkling with curiosity like she'd just discovered a treasure chest.
He closed his eyes again. Maybe she'd go away."
"Don't ignore me!" she whined.
Her scent drifted into his senses, sweet and annoyingly comforting.
This girl never learns.
"Wake up or I'll kiss you!"
His eyes snapped open, and he shot her a death glare. She now sat in seiza in front of him.
"I told you," he began in his usual cold tone, "you can't just do stuff like that—leaning close to guys, sleeping in their cars, showing up in their apartments."
Ice had begun his sermon… or maybe it was just a long-winded complaint.
She mumbled something under her breath, clearly not paying attention to the lecture. Her eyes darted elsewhere, focusing instead on her real mission.
"Yes, yes, I know," she said dismissively.
"You just did," he replied with a sigh, leaning back and watching the tree leaves sway above them.
Rustling beside him.
"I promise I won't do it again," she said sweetly. "Now… can you please take back my violation from this morning? Please? Pretty please?"
He didn't need to look. He could already see her clasping her hands like a child begging for candy.
"No."
"Ice!" she gasped in protest.
Now she was really acting like a brat.
"It's your fault."?
"I was late!"
"Then get up earlier."
That one hit. She turned to him slowly, her face crumpling into a pout, eyes glistening—not with anger, but guilt.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again.
She could only imagine how ridiculous she must look right now.
"You're so mean, Icy…" she mumbled. Her voice cracked a little.
Ice sat up straighter. Why am I babysitting again?
"Now it's my fault?"
"You're being mean!"
"It's in the rules. Read your handbook," he muttered, too exhausted to argue further. He lay back down on the grass, using his arm as a pillow.
"I don't want to get kicked out…" she whispered. "I'm having so much fun here."
She was actually crying.
The sight stunned him.
And just like that, the guilt he thought he'd buried deep resurfaced—rising from the shadows like it had been waiting all along.
A slow sigh escaped him.
The words left a bitter aftertaste. Hearing himself say them made something twist in his chest—annoyance, maybe. Or reluctance.
Fire crawled a little closer, hovering just above him, their faces now nearly parallel.
"I promise I won't be late again!" she said, raising her right hand like a kid making a vow in class.
"Good. I'm still not taking back the violation," he muttered. "Just… don't mess up again."
He closed his eyes, hoping she would stop talking.
Why am I even here? he thought with an inward groan.
And why… was she starting to get harder to ignore?