Meeting (3)
Even after classes ended, the school was abuzz with students enjoying their club activities, just as you'd expect in Japan.
Tae-il could feel the vast chasm between himself and them.
Even in the same space, he felt utterly disconnected.
He glanced sidelong at the occasional students passing in the hallway, his eyes fixed on the sunset-drenched campus.
Everything felt gray to him, but the students were basking in the radiant glow of their youth.
Tae-il envied them deeply.
I wish I could just dive in among them without a care in the world, without overthinking it.
He scratched the back of his head and chuckled wryly, even finding his own thought ridiculous.
"Nah. Who am I kidding? I'd just stick out like a sore thumb anyway."
The best way to bond with others is through shared experiences—feeling like part of the same community, sharing joys and hardships, naturally forging tight friendships.
Or at least sharing common interests.
The problem was, for Tae-il with his Korean sensibilities, syncing up emotionally with Japanese guys felt nearly impossible. The barriers of age and nationality loomed surprisingly high for him.
People might say all boys are the same, but then why do groups form and bullies emerge among them?
Maybe it's because I didn't grow up here from childhood...
Everyone knew Shin Tae-il as a quasi-Korean who had immigrated to Japan with his family at age five, but the real 'Shin Tae-il' inside was a pure-blooded Korean who had spent a solid twenty-two years back home.
His past life's experiences and common sense were holding him back. Korean language and Japanese history classes still tormented him.
He wasn't athletic either, and his hobbies leaned toward composing music or strumming a guitar—total indoor type.
But he had zero interest in joining a school band thriving on that shared passion for music. He'd just be an unwelcome intruder to them.
At this point, Tae-il seriously pondered squeezing into the otaku crowd.
"No, otakus too? Girls would be easier anyway. They're all into K-pop and Korean wave stuff."
He recalled the girls in class chattering about idols and actors.
The Girls Do Band world was set around 2020, when K-pop and the Korean wave had already seeped deep into Japanese pop culture.
The original story frequently name-dropped Korean idols and music. Even Iris's famously stylish outfits were modeled after real looks from Korean female idols and actresses, courtesy of the author.
"If it's just casual hobby talk, that'd be way more comfortable..."
The Korean idols in this Girls Do Band world were much like the ones from his past life that Tae-il remembered. If he wanted, he could chat up the girls about Korean wave topics right now.
But he didn't.
Making friends whose minds you couldn't connect with felt like too much hassle.
Even at the start of the semester, plenty of girls had approached him upon hearing he was Korean.
Their interest didn't last.
Those who fawned over him just for being Korean, or even the jerks picking fights, all ghosted him the moment they learned he'd immigrated as a kid.
Do I have zero appeal without the Korean factor?
He absentmindedly checked his reflection in the window.
Compared to the girls weaned on Korean wave, his looks might fall short. Their standards were set by top 1% beauties—idols and actresses.
Still, this face shouldn't get called ugly anywhere, right?
Tae-il felt his confidence in his decent-enough appearance plummet.
He was losing his sense of presence day by day.
At first, the indifference had been a relief amid fears of Japanese bullying culture, but now it was the opposite.
He wanted to savor that elusive youth, with anyone.
"What the hell even is youth...?"
"Hey!"
Tae-il, lost in his idle musings, looked up.
A familiar yet strangely unfamiliar girl's voice tickled his ears.
Damn, what a great voice. Wonder what she sounds like singing...
Tae-il scanned around. The girl who had called him flashed a bright smile when their eyes met.
"Hi!"
A vaguely familiar girl approached with an innocent grin, hands clasped behind her back.
She was a stunning beauty with perfect proportions top to bottom, like a gravure model. Her long hair swayed down to her hips, harmonizing beautifully with her black sailor uniform.
Tae-il inwardly marveled at how someone shorter than him could have such flawless ratios.
"Could you help me out a bit?"
The beauty clasped her hands in plea.
Tae-il was reminded anew that this was a manga world, where you couldn't say no.
"Help how?"
"It involves a bit of heavy lifting!"
She pointed at her feet. There sat a box stuffed full of papers.
She stuck out her tongue playfully.
"The teacher asked me to take it to the old building's machine room. Too heavy for me alone."
"Looks it."
Tae-il bent carefully to lift the bottom of the box and was startled.
Way too heavy for one girl.
"Where'd you carry it from?"
"Staff room."
"All the way here? By yourself?"
Tae-il was shocked she'd hauled it solo this far.
The staff room was at the far end of the first-floor hallway in the main building. This was the opposite direction. She looked like she'd done it alone, without a drop of sweat.
At his reaction, she raised her pale arm, flexing it at a right angle—the classic guy pose for showing off biceps.
"Don't let appearances fool you. I'm pretty strong."
"Huh... cool."
Tae-il mumbled blankly in agreement, and she looked disappointed.
"What? You bought that so easily? Most guys would tease, like 'quit joking around.'"
"We're not close enough for me to joke like that."
"Harsh."
Still, her smile didn't fade.
Well, that's because I know from the original she's never lost an arm-wrestle.
Tae-il bent his knees and gripped the bottom of the box.
"I'll help carry it, right?"
"Y-yeah."
She belatedly gripped the other side.
"One..."
"Two...!"
With a heave, they lifted together.
His downward gaze, fixed on the box, accidentally captured the majestic sway from her up-and-down motion.
Tae-il instinctively squeezed his eyes shut. Then regretted it.
Damn! Closing my eyes just makes it flash in HD!
Right in front of his nose, Eden-like hills embodying worldly truths jiggled.
A lethal sight for a hormonal teen(?).
"You okay?"
"N-nothing. Let's just move the box quick."
Tae-il's fingers were starting to ache.
More than that, facing this protagonist-aura beauty head-on felt awkward.
Arisugawa Iris.
The undisputed heroine of Girls Do Band.
Possibly one of the people he absolutely had to avoid contact with.
"I'm Iris. Arisugawa Iris. You?"
"Taichi. Just call me Taichi."
Tae-il answered reflexively. So quick she blinked in surprise.
Korean names stood out too much. Taichi it was.
His go-to alias for dodging attention.
Misreading it as a bold confession, Iris smiled teasingly.
"Straight to first-name basis? Sorry, I don't accept confessions."
"Whatever. I don't know where the machine room is, so lead the way."
The story hadn't even started yet. Getting too tangled with her spelled trouble.
Feeling antsy, Tae-il urged her on.
"Wow, super harsh. What if I say I misunderstood? Something like that?"
"Spot on. So lead already."
What an odd girl.
On the way to the machine room.
Iris tilted her head, subtly observing Tae-il without him noticing.
He'd looked embarrassed lifting the box earlier, but now he was calm again.
Not that after all?
The boy kept turning his head to avoid her gaze.
Yet he wasn't skilled at hiding it—his face plainly showed discomfort.
She'd seen guys who fawned excessively or were too shy to look, but one acting this awkwardly? First time.
She was slipping into classic "You're the first for me!" mode.
Hmm. A new pickup line?
Pretty convincing.
Iris carried the box while keeping a close eye on him.
Each lost in their own schemes.
Whatever their motives, both wanted to wrap this up fast.
Tae-il fidgeted, hyper-aware of Iris beside him.
In the original, fans dubbed her "walking sex," handling the series' high fanservice quota. Fine in Japan, but in Korea, it pushed 19+ limits.
The author deliberately lingered on shots emphasizing her chest, thighs, lips—rousing male readers' egos. The Iris before him now was a living 3D erotic model, exuding some mysterious pheromone. Tae-il was dying inside.
Facing her straight-on threatened his adult pride.
He kept his head rigid, eyes anywhere but her. His efforts paid off—they reached the destination sooner than expected.
"Hold on, I'll open the door. Can you handle it solo?"
Tae-il nodded instead of speaking.
She'd whined about the weight, but he could manage alone.
As she released her grip, he leaned the box against the wall and hoisted it to chest height.
"Nngh. This thing's ridiculously heavy...!"
Iris unlocked the padlock and yanked the iron door with grunts.
Tae-il entered the machine room, box in arms. Inhaling, he caught dusty, musty paper scents.
"Where to put it?"
"Teacher said anywhere's fine. But maybe somewhere visible? How about there?"
Iris, securing the door, pointed to a desk piled mountain-high with papers.
No space atop it.
"There?"
"Wait a sec. I'll clear a spot."
Without checking contents, she swept the papers off the desk.
She dusted her hands and nodded.
With space made, Tae-il rose on tiptoes to place the box down carefully.
The pressure on his fingers vanished, bringing refreshing relief—at the cost of stinging skin pain.
Tae-il shook out his reddened hands.
"Thanks. You saved me a ton of hassle!"
Iris expressed her gratitude loudly and vibrantly, even for a Japanese girl.
Tae-il's response was lukewarm.
"Yeah... sure."
Too dry for thanks from a beauty—her eyebrow twitched.
This guy's weird. Other boys would've melted.
This one wasn't melting; he was avoiding eye contact.
Was it really that tactic?
Yet he seemed to be deliberately ignoring her.
Am I being intentionally snubbed?
By a peer boy? The great Arisugawa Iris?
Why? Unbelievable.
Her friend sweating over a canvas in the art room would burst out laughing if she heard.
"The mighty Iris ignored by a boy? What a world!"
Probably something like that.
To be fair, she enjoyed the adulation.
She played innocent and cheerful, but understood perfectly how others saw her—and exploited her physical assets subtly.
This situation felt humiliating yet intriguing. Even if he had ulterior motives, being ignored didn't sit well.
In short: How dare you?
Childish, but crucial to her.
Truly not interested?
Iris unclasped her hands behind her, feigning an arm stretch while subtly squeezing her shoulders to emphasize her chest.
"Eep!"
Tae-il panicked, averting his eyes. Face flushed.
Hah?
Reaction after all?
Iris grinned mischievously, propping her chin with index, middle, and thumb seductively.
"Taichi, not into girls?"
"W-what's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. Thanks for the help today, Taichi."
Tae-il fiddled with his ear absentmindedly.
Maybe because no one had called him Taichi lately, it tickled.
Or perhaps her voice sounded too sweet. After all, her vocal cords belonged to a famous voice actress who did singing and musicals.
The very voice he'd admired and yearned for.
He wanted to hear her live that Girls Do Band song.
Her on stage, singing a song he'd composed.
His surging desires cut short by a vibration from his pocket phone.
Bzzz.
Tae-il sighed and replied he'd be there soon.
"Who? Girlfriend?"
"Just a friend. Says her stuff's done, meet at the gate."
He pocketed the phone and readjusted his bag strap.
"Oh? Was gonna treat you as thanks. Mind if I tag along, if it won't rude your friend?"
"No need. Wasn't doing it for a reward."
Tae-il turned and walked out of the machine room.
"Oh, right."
He paused, glancing back— their eyes met for the first time.
"Yeah?"
Iris beamed innocently.
The sunset glow through the window enhanced her beauty.
Irresistible to any guy.
What am I doing? Snap out of it, idiot!
Tae-il reined in his wandering mind and, as an original fan, said what he wanted to.
"Next time you need to move something heavy, just ask for help quietly. Don't hog it all solo."
"H-hog?"
"Plenty would've jumped to help if you'd asked. Don't push yourself. The world won't notice anyway. Speaking from experience."
With a real goodbye wave of his left hand, Tae-il walked away briskly from Iris, muttering in Korean too low for others.
"Ah, damn. Embarrassing... what a lame thing to do..."
He felt self-loathing for posing like a manga character in a manga world.
"Got too sentimental meeting the heroine. Gotta watch it next time..."
Here's hoping no more encounters.
Or just a nod if they did.
An impossible wish—he prayed fervently, invoking every god he remembered.
Click.
Iris leaned against the window after seeing Tae-il off.
She watched his back exiting the old building toward the main one.
"Hog, huh..."
Never crossed her mind. Capable people naturally draw expectations, and they meet them—that was natural in her world.
This case was a bit different.
Too heavy, so she'd asked him for help.
Yet he'd said it so confidently.
Don't hog it alone.
As if he knew her inside out.
"What, secretly my fan?"
She thought of her friend who started a fan club despite her protests. Maybe he was a member.
Acting awkward to hide being a fan?
Made sense.
Viewing him that way, Iris found Taichi utterly cute.
Anyway.
Her lips twisted in the window reflection.
"No one... notices..."
Her gathered hands like a flower bud pressed her dimples, forcing her mouth upward.
The forced smile looked comically awkward, beyond even her confident beauty's salvage.
Iris quickly cupped her mouth to hide it.
Now only her charming eye smile showed.
"Taichi. Taichi. Taichi..."
Either way, maybe she'd fallen for a novel tactic.
So, since she'd bitten, time to dig deeper.
On this boy named Taichi.