Chapter 1: Teacher, Do You Have a Girlfriend?

“Teacher, can I ask you something?”

The classroom was moderately noisy, just loud enough to be lively but not enough to be heard by the class next door.

I nodded at the question from the female student sitting in the front row, her voice cutting through the chatter.

“What is it?”
“Teacher, do you have a girlfriend?”

A girlfriend, huh…

At the bright age of twenty-five, having lived for twenty-three years internationally, I had never once had a girlfriend.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t interested in women, nor was I a special case drawn to the same sex.

‘When it’s a struggle just to get by, how could I have the luxury of worrying about girls?’

My father passed away when I was young.

Because of that, our already poor family situation became even more dire.

Starting with a part-time job handing out flyers in middle school, as soon as I entered high school, I was busy earning money, working part-time jobs after school on weekdays and doing manual labor on weekends.

Of course, my mother also worked, but with her bad leg, she found it difficult to even do common factory work, so she could only manage some side jobs at home.

As the only child, if I didn’t bring in money, no one else would.

‘There’s no way someone with a life like this would have a girlfriend.’

I answered with an awkward laugh at the question, which was accompanied by the student’s uniquely innocent expression.

“Haha… unfortunately, I don’t.”
“Really?”

Hearing my answer, the female student’s eyes widened in surprise.

Wondering if it was something to be so surprised about, given her excellent reaction, I just laughed it off, but she asked again.

“Why?”
“Well? I guess I just haven’t met anyone I’m drawn to yet.”

I vaguely deflected her question of ‘why,’ hiding the pitiful truth of my family’s situation.

‘It’s not something I need to go around telling kids.’

I tried to end the topic there, but the student seemed to have caught onto something in my words and spoke with an interested expression.

“If you say ‘yet’… Teacher, don’t tell me you’ve never dated?”
“You could say that.”

At my words, her eyes widened again, giving me an expression you’d only see on a variety show.

As expected of a girl this age, every single one of her reactions was fantastic.

‘They say kids these days are scary, but that’s not always the case.’

When I heard I’d be doing my social service duty at my old high school, my first thought was that I’d save on transportation costs since it was close to home.

But soon, I got unnecessarily scared after hearing all the fuss from here and there about juvenile delinquents and whatnot.

However, once I actually came here, I found the kids were quite innocent, completely different from the rumors.

‘Of course, there are also kids who cause trouble, drinking and smoking.’

But we had those in my day too, so it’s hard to say it’s just a ‘kids these days’ thing.

As I was lost in thought watching her reactions, suddenly the voices chattering elsewhere in the classroom turned towards me.

“Sir, you’ve never dated?”
“You don’t look like someone who’s never dated.”
“Maybe you have… different preferences?”

Suddenly, the students started chattering amongst themselves, excluding me.

“Then that’s why you always have lunch with the gym teacher!”
“… I like women, so please don’t make baseless assumptions.”

Fearing their dangerous imagination might lead to strange rumors, I spoke firmly to cut it off beforehand.

Then, the female student in the front row, her face now slightly flushed, threw another question.

“Then… Teacher, do you prefer older or younger women?”

A blush and a mumbling tone that made her intentions obvious to anyone.

‘I do prefer younger, but…’

Looking at her face, I simultaneously recalled a news article I once saw on the internet.

[Social service worker at a high school in Gyeonggi Province revealed to have had an inappropriate relationship with a student… Shocking!]

“…”

Just thinking about it makes me dizzy.

Obviously, I have no intention of dating a minor.

However, one wrong word could lead to stories about how ‘that social service worker seduced me,’ and whether it was true or not, I could face a disaster, so I always needed to be careful.

‘What’s so great about a social service worker anyway?’

A mediocre face, neither ugly nor handsome, with the only saving grace being a height slightly above average, just shy of 180cm.

Perhaps due to an admiration for adults, there were occasionally female students who showed this kind of undeserved interest in an ordinary person like me.

‘Of course, it feels good.’

Still, it was a favor I couldn’t simply rejoice over, so I forced myself to hide the chill running down my spine and told a lie.

“I think I prefer older women.”

At that answer, the student looked a little disappointed and crestfallen, lowering her head slightly.

I thought that would be the end of it, but she grabbed onto me again and continued her interrogation.

“Th-then! What do you like more, a bob cut or long, straight hair?”
“Long, straight hair.”

When I mentioned the exact opposite of her blunt bob without a second thought, she deflated again.

For some reason, seeing her like that softened my heart, and I was cautiously wondering how to handle it when.

“Then what about MBTI, do you like I or E more…!”
“…”

Seeing the student push on with a never-say-die attitude, my momentarily softened heart immediately hardened again, and thanks to that, I could say firmly.

“I.”

It’s definitely not you.

“Haah… I’m tired.”

After the class ended, I returned to the library, my usual post, and slumped over the desk.

“I never imagined I’d be back in a high school classroom at this age.”

Normally, a social service worker wouldn’t have any reason to enter a classroom during class time.

The gym teacher, the only person at school my age and thus the one I was friendly with, had a sudden meeting and asked me to go in his place to supervise the class and make sure the kids didn’t do anything stupid, so I had no choice but to go.

In truth, substituting to supervise a study hall was a common occurrence, so I was a bit used to it, but I could never get used to the barrage of questions that erupted whenever I entered a classroom.

Exhausted from being pestered by the student in the front row for the entire study period, I sighed, and from the open window, I heard energetic voices from the schoolyard.

“Hey! Pass!”

At the sound, I looked outside and saw boys playing soccer on the field, likely for gym class, and girls chatting on a bench.

“…”

And in a corner of the schoolyard, a boy and a girl were holding hands and being all sweet with each other.

“The prime of their lives.”

Even though I myself had never properly enjoyed such good times—or rather, precisely because of that—those words came out instinctively.

A shabby adolescence with absolutely no connection to girls because of part-time jobs.

‘Of course, to say it was just because of work is an excuse, since I messed around with the guys like a madman.’

But that was only at school; I rarely met up with friends to hang out after school or on weekends.

Despite that, I didn’t study hard, didn’t go to college, and after turning twenty, I worked nonstop in manual labor until I got a herniated disc, which led to a Grade 4 ruling in my physical examination, assigning me to public service.

Even though the salary from the state was far from enough to cover living expenses, I was technically a public servant and couldn’t even get a second job, leaving me in a state where I was busy worrying about next week’s rent.

“A guy like this, having a girlfriend?”

The fresh, heart-fluttering sight beyond the window was a stark contrast to my unremarkable school days, and to my present, which wasn’t much different.

Everything became a comparison.

‘I’m not even angry.’

There was no point in getting depressed or pessimistic about my situation.

I was already used to a life of being tight on money since I was young, so I just envied the normalcy everyone else had, like watching a rich celebrity on TV.

“I should just get some sleep.”

‘Anyway, there are still two periods left until lunch, and they said there was nothing for me to do this morning, so it should be fine.’

He turned away from the window, set aside his complicated feelings, and sat down in the chair as if lying down.

The soft cushion enveloped his bottom and neck, and his eyes gradually closed as he fell asleep, just like any other day.

“Excuse me…”

A ticklish voice reached my ears.

I must have been sleeping very deeply, as it took quite a while for my hazy mind to clear up.

When I finally managed to open my eyes, I saw a female student in front of me, holding books and looking at me.

“…Huh?”

You look familiar.

A small frame, long straight hair reaching her chest, and a gentle impression reminiscent of a puppy.

I’d definitely seen her somewhere, but it was a vague feeling, and I couldn’t quite place her.

‘It’s like…’

The feeling of running into an old classmate on the street.

“Joo woon?”
“Uh… yes?”

Seeing me just sitting there blankly even after opening my eyes, she spoke cautiously.

“No matter how sleepy you are, you can’t sleep here. Lunchtime will be over soon, so let’s go back to class together.”
“…Huh?”

Am I still not fully awake?

Or are the kids plotting to prank me?

I couldn’t grasp the situation when she said we should go back to class together, so I remained silent, and she spoke again.

“Ah, are you sick? I’ll tell the teacher, so do you want to go to the nurse’s office?”

Putting the incomprehensible situation aside for a moment.

As I kept listening to her gentle voice, I felt a familiar atmosphere, like déjà vu, and at the same time, a frustrating feeling like forgetting what you were about to search for the moment you open the search bar.

‘I’ve really seen her somewhere before.’

As my mind gradually cleared, I began to see her awkward smile more clearly.

On her familiar school uniform, a student ID was pinned to her chest—something most kids find bothersome and usually just stuff in their pockets.

‘Lee Hayan?’

And the name written there was none other than.

“Class President?”

The name of the class president from my class in the first year of high school.