The next morning, sunlight spilled gently across the courtyard of Bicom High Secondary School.
Larry walked through the gates, her satchel bouncing softly against her shoulder. A quiet smile rested on her face, the kind that hid more than it revealed.
That day, a new announcement awaited the students. The principal had introduced a different kind of examination — not based on textbooks or memorized answers, but on how students handled emotions, business, and real-life situations.
Inside the classroom, Miss Okuma stood near the board, her voice calm yet firm.
"This year," she began, "your exam will test how you respond to the real world — not just how well you write on paper."
The class fell into murmurs. Some students whispered in disbelief.
"Ma'am," one boy asked, raising his hand, "is this really necessary?"
Miss Okuma adjusted her glasses and smiled faintly.
"If you wish to earn your grades, yes. Otherwise, you may skip. But remember," she paused, her gaze moving across the room, "life never gives you the option to skip a test. You either face it, or you fail it."
Her words struck deep. The room went silent, as if the air itself had turned thoughtful.
By the time the lunch bell rang, everyone was still buzzing about the strange new exam.
Mark, sitting near the window, leaned back in his chair and looked toward his best friend.
"Ooka," he said, "why didn't you come yesterday? I wanted you to meet my grandmother. She even made your favorite dessert."
Ooka gave a small, apologetic laugh. "Ah, sorry, my friend. My father suddenly called me to his office. He wants me to start learning about the family business. You know I'm his only heir. Once I graduate, I'll have to take over everything."
Mark smiled, though something flickered behind his eyes. "I understand. Family comes first."
He stood and left for the washroom, the words echoing in his head. Family comes first.
At the sink, the cold water ran over his fingers, but his thoughts were far away.
"Maybe I'm being childish," he muttered to his reflection. "But it feels like Ooka's world is changing… and I'm not part of it anymore."
He took a deep breath, straightened his tie, and forced a small smile before returning to class.
Larry noticed immediately.
"Are you okay?" she asked softly as he sat down. "I heard your talk with Ooka. You looked… lonely."
Mark frowned slightly. "Why are you showing kindness to me? I don't need anyone's sympathy."
Larry didn't reply. She just gave a faint smile and turned her eyes back to her notebook. She understood something most people didn't — people often hide pain behind pride.
The next lecture began. Miss Okuma walked in again, holding a thick book in her hand.
"Everyone, open to page forty-seven," she said.
Larry froze. She had forgotten her textbook at home.
"Whoever doesn't have their book, stand up," Miss Okuma said firmly.
Larry hesitated, starting to rise, but before she could, Mark gently placed a hand on her arm.
"I'll go," he said quietly
.
"What? But—"
"I just need some air." He stood and walked out before the teacher could question him.
After class, Larry found him sitting under the old cherry blossom tree behind the school. The petals were falling like snow.
"Thank you… for earlier," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Mark shrugged. "Don't mention it. I'm good at studies; I don't need a book every time. Just… don't get in trouble next time."
Larry tilted her head, smiling softly. "You're strange. You push people away, but still protect them."
He turned away, hiding the small smile that threatened to show.
Later that day, they were assigned to clean the classroom after school. Neither spoke much, yet the silence between them wasn't uncomfortable. As they wiped the desks and arranged the chairs, it felt like an invisible bridge was forming — quiet, steady, unspoken.
When they finished, Mark said, "See you tomorrow."
Larry nodded, watching him leave. She didn't know why, but his coldness didn't scare her. It only made her want to understand him more.
A month passed, and the new "real-life" exam officially began — the Business Training Program.
Every student was assigned to a company to experience what it meant to work, manage, and sell.
Mark was placed in none other than Opus Enterprises — Ooka's father's company.
Ooka's father didn't particularly like Mark; he thought of him as an ordinary boy without status. But due to school policy, he couldn't refuse or fire any trainee without a reason.
So Mark began his first day determined to prove himself.
Within hours, the staff noticed something unusual — this quiet student had charm. He didn't sell products; he told stories about them. He listened to customers, understood their needs, and made them believe.
By evening, he had sold fifty units — a record no trainee had ever achieved before.
"Who is this boy?" one employee whispered. "He works like he's been doing this for years."
The next morning, at school assembly, the principal, Mr. Charkues, stood on the podium with a wide smile.
"We have our top performer of the Business Training Program," he announced proudly. "The student who sold fifty products in one day and impressed every company manager — Mark!"
The crowd erupted in applause. Larry clapped, her eyes shining with quiet pride.
Mark walked to the stage, accepted the medal, and simply said two words —
"This was easy."
Then he turned and walked away.
The hall fell silent. Some students laughed quietly, but Larry didn't. She saw the truth in his expression — it wasn't arrogance; it was emptiness.
After the ceremony, Larry found him near the school gate, sitting on a bench under the evening sky.
"Congratulations," she said warmly. "You worked hard and deserved it."
Mark looked up. "Thanks," he said simply.
Larry hesitated for a moment. "If you don't mind… would you like to go out for dinner tomorrow? Just as friends."
He looked surprised. "Sure," he said after a pause. "Send me the time and address."
"But… I don't have your number," Larry admitted.
Mark handed her his phone, smiling faintly. "Now you do. And congratulations — you've just joined my trusted friend list."
Larry laughed, her eyes bright like stars. "Oh? That's a rare list, I guess?"
He chuckled softly. "Very rare."
As she walked away, Mark watched her silhouette disappear into the crowd. For the first time in years, something stirred inside him — something gentle, fragile, and frighteningly real.
That night, lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling. Her laughter echoed in his mind.
"She's my friend," he whispered to himself.
But deep down, a quiet voice replied — Are you sure, Mark?