My First Friend is the Class President, Shin Seyeol (2)
Shin Seyeol had a strong sense of responsibility. Seeing how she had shown a greater sense of responsibility than her peers from a very young age, one could even call it innate. That was why the role of class president felt so natural to her. Perhaps it was because she had spent most of her school life living in that exact role. There had been days when she didn’t want to be class president, but she had never hated it. Before she knew it, “class president” had become another part of her identity, so Seyeol naturally accepted it.
Still, it was true that she sometimes felt burdened. The moments when Seyeol felt the greatest weight and responsibility as class president were exactly when there was a student who remained on the fringes of the class.
In any group, there were always children who didn’t mesh well with the collective. Yet in most cases Seyeol had experienced, the relationship between that child and the group wasn’t particularly bad. It was simply awkward; they had never openly opposed each other or harbored real hostility. Some might call it “silent ostracism” since there were no outright fights. Or perhaps the others badmouthed and bullied the child where Seyeol couldn’t see. Even then, she had always looked after that student as best she could, trying to prevent them from becoming truly isolated and coordinating things so they could integrate with the class.
Seyeol’s efforts had always succeeded. Whenever the school year changed and she ran into that friend in the hallway—now in a different class—she would see them happily chatting with their new classmates, unlike the year before. The swell of pride she felt in those moments was something no one else could understand.
These situations happened every year. Each time, Seyeol used her natural talent and temperament to mediate the relationships effectively. She had poured her entire being into preserving the class as one unified group. As long as she held the role and responsibility of class president, she had believed it would always be this way.
This year, however, was different. Was it because of the Magical Girl Academy’s unique nature, so unlike ordinary schools? Or was it because the friend she had encountered this time—Kim Jihye—was a completely new type of person she had never experienced before?
In less than a month, the relationship between Kim Jihye and the rest of the class had soured to the point where it could only be described as the worst possible. To be precise, it was only one side thinking that way unilaterally; the other side didn’t seem to care at all. But still.
Lazy genius. That was how the other students seemed to perceive Jihye.
Every child in their growth phase—or rather, every human being—carries the emotion of jealousy in their heart. Jealousy is highly contagious. Once it spreads, it becomes difficult to control.
From what Seyeol could tell, the root cause of this problem was jealousy. The envy that ordinary people felt toward a lazy genius.
From the very first entrance ceremony, Kim Jihye had left an unforgettable, intense impression on the children’s minds. Her outstanding ability, so different from her peers. The fact that she had blocked a teacher’s attacks multiple times had initially inspired admiration. But that feeling hadn’t lasted long. For admiration to endure, the humanity of the person being admired is crucial—especially the virtues of humility and consideration.
In that sense, Kim Jihye lacked the humanity necessary to sustain such admiration. Of course, at the beginning she had kindly answered questions and taught them a few things. But as time passed, she grew visibly annoyed, ignored people when they spoke, and frequently dozed off. Seyeol, who had been with her from the start, knew that Jihye wasn’t the type to treat others cruelly and that her behavior stemmed from an unusual condition similar to narcolepsy. The rest of the class, however, could not understand her.
Not everyone in the class disliked Kim Jihye, of course. But it was true that the majority held negative feelings toward her. This was an unfamiliar trial for Shin Seyeol as class president.
“What on earth should I do…?”
No matter how much she agonized over it, an answer refused to come.
That day was no different from any other. It was practical training, where they applied the theory they had learned by using real magic. The trouble started during a short break when someone asked Seyeol a question.
“Seyeol. I have something I want to ask… Why do you hang out with Jihye?”
“Huh? What do you mean, why? We’re friends, so of course we spend time together.”
The person who had spoken to her was Baek Miju, a quiet, introverted girl.
“Is that the only reason?”
“Yeah. There’s nothing else.”
“I see…”
As far as Seyeol remembered, Baek Miju was the type who never approached others first. So why was she suddenly talking to her now? Seyeol grew curious.
“Why did you suddenly want to know, Miju?”
“Ah… no. I was just wondering if you two were close.”
“We are. …Though I’m not sure if Jihye feels the same way about me.”
Incidentally, Kim Jihye was absent from practical training that day, having made the excuse of going to the infirmary. As a result, Seyeol was a little sulky with her.
“Haha… I see. Yeah.”
“What’s going on? Why are you acting like this?”
“It’s nothing. …I also want to… get close to Jihye.”
Watching Miju mumble and hesitate as she revealed her purpose, Seyeol felt strangely displeased. She was startled to realize that the words leaving her own mouth had come out rather sharply.
“…Why?”
“Um. To be honest… because she’s cool. She barely pays attention in class, yet her magic skills and knowledge are incredible, right? Of course the teacher went easy on her, but still—she blocked those attacks on the entrance exam like it was the most natural thing in the world. When I saw her like that… she looked so amazing.”
It was true. Even Seyeol had to admit that the way Jihye had calmly defended against the teacher had been impressive.
“I want to become a cool magical girl like that too. So I was hoping Jihye might teach me a little magic…”
“Wouldn’t it be better to tell Jihye that yourself instead of me?”
“……You’re right. But the truth is, I’m really shy. You’re the only one who talks to Jihye, Seyeol, so I was wondering if you could… pass the message along for me.”
Listening to Miju, two emotions rose inside Seyeol’s heart. The first was joy. She had been hoping the other students wouldn’t dislike Jihye. Even if it was just one person, she had wished someone would recognize Jihye’s charm. So when she heard Miju say she wanted to get close to her, Seyeol felt genuinely happy on Jihye’s behalf. Right now it was only Miju, but perhaps in time all the children would come to like Jihye. It felt like she could finally see a way to unravel the worries that had been weighing on her.
That emotion felt completely natural. After all, if something good happened to Jihye, it would be good for her too. They were friends, after all.
But something feels wrong. This feeling… what is it?
She was supposed to be happy. It was a good thing—Jihye might finally make a friend—yet she felt uneasy and unpleasant. Why?
“All right. I’ll talk to Jihye about it.”
“Thank you, Seyeol. You really are the perfect class president… But, um, now that I think about it, saying this might be a little late, but……”
“What is it, Miju?”
“Ah! Never mind. I just wanted to say thank you. That’s all. There was no other meaning. Nope.”
Before she knew it, break time had ended. The teacher gathered the resting students and resumed the lesson. Seyeol watched Miju, who was sitting some distance away and listening attentively to the teacher. Just looking at her made a strange emotion bubble up from deep inside Seyeol’s chest. She found it difficult to control the feeling that had appeared earlier.
“Now, everyone, fire Magic Missiles at the targets in front of you.”
Seyeol’s mind was a mess. It felt as if emotions she had never noticed before were ripping her apart like a wild beast.
“Seyeol. I have something I want to ask… Why do you hang out with Jihye?”
Thud. The Magic Missile forming in Seyeol’s hand fizzled out. Miju’s earlier words suddenly echoed in her mind. She didn’t know why, but that question felt incredibly important.
Come to think of it, it was true. Why was she trying to get close to Jihye? Could it really be explained away with something as simple and pure as “because we’re friends”? Or was there another feeling hidden inside her, one she herself wasn’t even aware of?
As a girl still in the midst of puberty, Seyeol couldn’t fully express her own emotions and thoughts in logical terms. Not even to herself.
In the end, she finished the practical training without being able to concentrate at all.
I need to learn magic properly.
Since she had entered the Magical Girl Academy, she had to give her all to become a proper magical girl. Even focusing her entire mind on training to get good grades felt insufficient—yet why did she keep getting distracted by these thoughts? Was it simply the sense of responsibility that came with being class president?
“Everyone worked hard today. Before we end class, I have one announcement. This Friday during practical training, we will conduct the March combat power measurement spar. Unlike before, this will be a training-oriented match rather than actual combat, so you don’t need to worry about transformation speed.”
The teacher wrapped up the lesson and delivered the notice. It hadn’t been that long since the last one—another spar already? As Seyeol wondered, the teacher continued.
“For the sparring partners, each of you will nominate your desired opponent on the day. If no one chooses you or you get passed over in the order, I’ll be your opponent… but I won’t make it as intense as I did with Jihye, so don’t worry.”
You could choose your own opponent? The moment Seyeol heard those words, only one person came to mind. It was Jihye and no one else. She could not let the first friend she had made upon entering the academy be taken by someone else. She refused to yield the first magic lesson or the first sparring match. Seyeol found herself eagerly counting the days until next week’s monthly spar.