The Library
When I came back to the classroom after lunch, Woo Han-gyeol's seat was empty. Maybe she'd gone to the bathroom. Without much thought, I stood up from my desk. Checking where she was, whether she was feeling all right—it was something that had been drilled into me over long years.
My steps toward the hallway suddenly halted.
There was no need for that anymore. Who she was eating lunch with, where she was right now—those weren't things I had to look after any longer. Habits were stubborn things. Even though my head had known it for a while now, my body kept trying to move in the old directions.
I started to sit back down, but even that felt somehow awkward, so I stopped. So what was I supposed to do with this time?
For the first time in twenty years, it felt as if the entire lunch period had been left completely empty. It had always felt so tight, so rushed. I'd hurry through the school meal, pack her medicine, check how she was feeling, help her get ready for the next class.
Before I knew it, lunch would be over in a flash. But once all of that was gone, time lost its place to go and just sat there, dazed and stagnant.
Only now did I realize how much time there had been when I wasn't looking after her. Standing there blankly, not knowing what to do with myself—it felt strangely unfamiliar. I stood like that for a long while before a place suddenly came to mind.
The library.
In my previous life, I had been someone who rather liked libraries. I enjoyed the time spent turning pages in that quiet air. The brief stillness where I could be completely alone, undisturbed by anyone. Savoring the aftertaste of a book once I'd finished it, imagining the stories that came after—those were good, too.
But in this life, I could count on one hand the times I'd set foot in a library. Whether at lunch or after school, there had always been somewhere I needed to go first. Her side. That one place.
Thinking about it, that was how it had been. I hadn't just given my time. The things I liked, the small pleasures I used to enjoy alone—while keeping watch at her side, I had let those slip from my hands one by one. I hadn't even been able to feel regret about it.
Back then, staying by her side had been more important than anything else, and everything else had naturally fallen behind. Without even realizing I was giving anything up, I had simply lived that way as if it were only natural. So of course this emptied-out time felt unfamiliar now.
I found myself wanting to visit that quiet place again after so long. Comparing the literature I'd read in my previous life with what existed here didn't seem like a bad idea either. Whatever I did would be better than just letting the empty time slip away.
The moment I pushed open the library door and stepped inside, I stopped short. This wasn't the library scenery I remembered. At a large table in one corner, a few students sat gathered around, dealing some kind of cards. Looking closer, it was poker. Someone let out a small cheer at a good hand, only for a scolding hush to come from beside them right away.
I stared at the scene a little blankly. Poker in the library? The library I knew had been a place where even the sound of turning pages was careful and hushed. Of course, those were memories from a previous life—different times, different places. Still, my sense that a library ought to be quiet by nature didn't seem ready to change anytime soon.
Had the world changed, or had I simply been away from it for too long? Probably both. Either way, the fact that I was standing frozen in front of such an unfamiliar scene seemed to say just how narrow a world I'd been trapped in all this time.
Absorbing a mild culture shock, I started walking between the bookshelves. What kinds of books were people reading these days? Was there anything worth reading? I browsed titles that felt familiar yet strange as I slowly made my way deeper in.
Names of authors I'd enjoyed in my previous life caught my eye here and there, alongside plenty of unfamiliar titles I'd never seen. The sensation of trailing my fingertips along the spines as I walked was something I hadn't felt in ages, and it stirred a quiet excitement.
Then, in front of one shelf, I came face-to-face with a familiar profile. She had been picking out books just like me, and the moment she recognized me, her expression stiffened.
"...Uh."
She hastily shoved the book she'd been holding into her arms and turned to leave on the spot. Her attempt to flee was so obvious that I opened my mouth before I knew it.
"What kind of books are popular these days?"
The girl who'd been about to take a step froze in place. She stayed locked there for a moment, then let out an irritated sigh and came back over.
"...Ugh, damn it."
Then she looked me up and down and grumbled.
"You never even show your face in the library usually. Why'd you have to come today of all days?"
Her tone was full of thorns, but her feet had already brought her to my side. Snapping at me with her mouth while her body drew closer—I knew that was how this girl expressed her feelings. It had been the same with her in the anime, and it had been the same yesterday. Just like how she'd tried to run away in the rain yesterday only to end up grabbing my sleeve after all.
I turned my gaze to the shelves as I answered.
"I used to like it."
"...Huh?"
It must have been an unexpected answer; her eyes went round. I gave her a faint smile.
"Coming to the library. I used to like it. Originally."
"............"
"There was just something more important than that, so I couldn't come."
That something. The work of staying by someone's side. All those past times when I'd wanted to come to the library but couldn't were packed into those short words. A life that had grown used to putting the things I liked on the back burner.
She seemed to sense, vaguely, the weight of the words that had come from my mouth. After choosing her words for a moment, she shot back gruffly for no real reason.
"...Then why'd you come here instead of going to do that something?"
I looked at the shelves for a moment, then answered slowly.
"Because it doesn't feel like my job anymore."
The words came out calmly. But what they held inside them—she couldn't have failed to know either. We were the ones who'd shared stories about people we couldn't reach, out in the rain yesterday. Who that "something" of mine had been directed toward, and what it meant that it was over now.
She didn't press any further. Instead, a brief silence settled between us. Similar to yesterday's, but a little less heavy. Surprisingly, she was the one who broke the silence first.
"...I didn't take you for that type."
"What type?"
"The book-loving type. Doesn't suit you."
It was blunt, but there weren't thorns in it like before. I let out a short laugh and shifted my gaze to the book she was still clutching to her chest.
"What kind of book are you reading? The way you've been hiding it this whole time, it must be something you really care about."
"...N-no it's not."
Her face flushed noticeably red. When I just kept looking at her quietly, she hesitated for a long while before reluctantly pulling the book out of her arms to show me. It was an ordinary romance novel. The cover showed a man and a woman smiling affectionately at each other.
"...Don't laugh."
She flared up and covered her face with the book.
"Don't think I'm pathetic for reading something like this when I've been dumped. It's just... the things that don't work out in real life can still work out in here, so I read them."
At those words, I didn't laugh. Trying to find comfort in a book for a heart that couldn't reach anyone in reality. I knew that feeling better than anyone. People who leaned their hearts against stories that never came true were usually people who hadn't managed to make something come true in real life.
The way I'd kept finding myself drawn to the Supporting Male Lead on the screen in my previous life had probably been for the same reason in the end. Wishing for him to be happy, at least on the screen—maybe that was because I hadn't been able to be. So I had no right to laugh at the girl clutching a romance novel and blushing over it.
"...It's not pathetic."
I said quietly.
"I've run away into something similar myself."
She peeked up at me over the top of the book. Her eyes seemed to ask what I meant by that, but I didn't bother explaining. She didn't ask any further either. She just quietly slipped the romance novel back into its place and started walking toward another shelf, muttering as she went.
"...Are you gonna come here every lunch period?"
"Dunno. This is pretty much the only place I have to go."
"Hmph. Well, I guess there's no helping it then."
Without ever looking this way, she added quietly.
"...Next time, I'll at least say hi."
What that blunt little line meant—both she and I knew perfectly well. It wasn't an invitation to hang out together, or to become friends. It was just permission, exactly that much, that it was okay for us to be in the same place.
But for her and me right now, that kind of distance was actually comfortable. Not having to dig into each other's wounds, just knowing there was one other person in the same situation nearby. That alone seemed like it would make the empty lunch periods feel a little less hollow.
After she disappeared beyond another shelf, I pulled out a book that had caught my eye. It was a story I was meeting for the first time here, with an unfamiliar title and an unfamiliar author. The book in my hands after so long felt both light and heavy. I couldn't quite remember how long it had been since I'd chosen something purely for myself, not for someone else's side.
I sat down in an empty seat by the window and slowly turned the first page. With my eyes on the print, the restless feelings seemed to settle little by little. It was a familiar yet unfamiliar peace I hadn't felt in a long time.
Until lunch period ended, there was still a little time left.