Changing a Fate That Isn't Mine

"It's not like anything's going to happen to you, Yeonjae!"

"Are you a sociopath or something? Don't say it like that. These things happen because of me."

"Why would it be because of you? Your misfortune factors just transfer over, that's all."

"Same thing. Anyway, tell me."

Though his eyes still rolled in clear bewilderment, Angae answered docilely.

"I can't tell what events will befall other humans right now!"

"Why not?"

"Your misfortune factors are still inside your body! I'd have to watch the person they move to in order to see how they act on them — and while I'm here with you, I can't look at anyone else…."

It was hopeless.

Uncharacteristically subdued, Angae simply paced back and forth in front of me.

"So there's no way at all?"

"I can't know it as clearly as I know the events that happen to you… but I can tell one thing for certain. It's your face that gets hurt."

"I see. Got it."

Park Ha-eun. What could possibly bring me into contact with her? Tomorrow was the field trip. The field trip… Ah. My field trip partner was Park Ha-eun.

"What if I just don't go to school tomorrow? Or I could ask the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠teacher to switch partners. Wouldn't that work?"

"Hmm… can I ask why you'd go that far?"

"Because it happens because of me. That's all there is to it. If I can stop it, that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Why do you keep thinking of it as happening because of you? The misfortune factors are simply transferring at a set time, that's all."

Since I apparently looked grave enough, he didn't push the point any harder — but he still looked utterly unconvinced.

Two weeks with him had taught me this much: he truly knew nothing about humans, or about misfortune.

He understood that misfortune factors attached themselves and disasters erupted — but he had not the faintest grasp of how much wound and despair such an event could carve into a single person.

In a word: this was territory he had no need to care about.

For the past two weeks, while I'd been scraping past misfortune by the skin of my teeth — and, a few times, unfortunately failing to — Angae had been thoroughly entertained.

More than once, hearing about things that had whisked past before my eyes close enough to break out in a cold sweat, I'd felt something lurch in my chest at the sight of his eyes sparkling with pure delight.

He isn't even human, after all. Expecting him to understand was ridiculous of me.

Which meant I didn't need to understand him either.

"Never mind. You don't have to get ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it. Hey, Angae — look here."

"Hm?"

"It was supposed to be her destiny — my misfortune factors transferring over and hurting her. So aren't you even a little curious whether we can change someone else's fate?"

"…! I'm curious!!"

Naturally, I wasn't the only one who'd spent those two weeks studying my counterpart. From now on, this was how you handled Angae.

Pressing him further, I extracted the crucial detail: the glass shard would embed itself in Park Ha-eun's face sometime around three o'clock tomorrow afternoon.

The moment I woke, I steeled myself and faked an illness.

Saying "Director… I don't feel well…" to the orphanage director's face, stone-cold sober, was a genuinely grueling act — more than anything I'd performed in a long time.

I'd never even said it when I was actually sick.

The director, seeing me fail to get up at wake-up time for the first time in my life, wavered visibly, and my conscience gnawed at me terribly.

She didn't seem inclined to force me to school, so maybe I could just skip the whole thing entirely—

That hope shattered the moment I saw the teachers wringing their hands over the fact that, of all days, today's schedule was completely full with no one left to spare.

In the end, I declared that I suddenly felt fine, got up, and dragged myself to school with the sluggish steps of a condemned man.

When I arrived, my homeroom teacher told me flatly that I was to stand beside Park Ha-eun. I ventured a careful question about whether the partners could be switched, and received nothing back but "It's already set. No."

"Everyone! Stand with your partners! Two lines! Hurry it up, hurry!"

Chanting what do I do on a loop inside my head, I took my place next to Park Ha-eun.

A shadow suddenly fell over her, and she startled, glanced my way — then immediately turned her head back to the friend she'd been talking to.

While the teacher hollered at us to form two lines already, I stole a sidelong look at Park Ha-eun.

In a few hours, that face would be scarred.

Glass embedding itself in your face is a shock for anyone, regardless of gender — but especially for kids my age.

Young bodies heal fast, so the wound might not even leave a mark, but the pain itself is the same for every human being.

"…Do you have something to say to me?"

"Ah — sorry."

Apparently I'd been staring too hard without realizing it. Park Ha-eun asked without even turning to look at me, her eyes fixed straight ahead, and I apologized at once and faced forward.

Unlike the noisy surroundings, a silence settled between her and me.

And so we boarded the bus quietly and arrived at the field trip site.

At the entrance to the art museum, a staff member wearing a Education Coordinator name tag greeted us in a bright voice.

"All right, so that covers the inside of the museum. From here, head out to the park and explore the outdoor exhibits, which are divided up by section! And wherever you see a sign that says 'Do Not Enter' — you do not go in there, okay~?"

The coordinator was clearly a veteran of handling students. She didn't lose her rhythm even standing in front of kids muttering that's ugly as hell at artwork that had probably sold for a fortune.

Smiling her pleasant smile to the last, she vanished the moment her final instructions left her mouth.

The homeroom teacher told us to do one loop around with our partners, waving her hand in a way that clearly meant now shoo, go away.

I clutched my worksheet and started toward the first exhibit hall, and Park Ha-eun trailed after me hesitantly.

"Ha-eun."

"Huh? Me?!"

"…? Yes. You are Park Ha-eun, aren't you?"

I'd spoken up carefully, thinking it was about time I shake her off — and her already-large eyes went even wider.

The bewilderment on her face was so far beyond anything I'd imagined that for a second I genuinely doubted I'd gotten her name right.

"Uh — yes, my name is Park Ha-eun… why?"

"You can go around with your friends instead. I'll fill out the worksheet myself and turn it in."

"Huh?"

Boys and girls had been paired off one to one, but pubescent adolescents were never going to meekly obey that arrangement — one glance around confirmed that not a single pair was actually moving together.

And sure enough, a group of boys came shouting for everyone to head over that way, brushing past Park Ha-eun and me.

"You don't have to stick with me. Go with your friends."

I pointed with my eyes toward two girls watching Park Ha-eun from a distance.

Following my gaze, she spotted her friends, faltered for a moment — then, glancing furtively at my face, slipped away.

I watched her go, her back now turned fully to me as she made her way toward them.

In a few hours, Park Ha-eun would be made unhappy — because of me.

But I could stop it. I had to stop it.

This time.

After wandering alone for a good while, I checked my watch and saw that it was well past one o'clock.

Angae had said the glass would strike Park Ha-eun's face around three. So when did I need to start being careful? Three o'clock, "around" — I'd give myself a margin and say two.

As long as I'm not next to her, nothing should happen.

My plan to avoid Park Ha-eun as much as possible until three o'clock came apart in less than thirty minutes.

I ran into my homeroom teacher while wandering around, and she tore into me for why I was going around alone instead of with my partner.

It was a jarringly different attitude from the teacher who normally couldn't have cared less where I went or what I did there.

She raised her voice at me to stay with my partner this instant, while somehow managing to look straight through an entire cluster of boys goofing off right beside us.

I dutifully said yes, ma'am, and was thinking I'd go plant myself in the bathroom — but the teacher personally escorted me all the way to wherever Park Ha-eun was.

"No acting out. Lee Yeonjae, if you pull something today too, my head is really going to explode. Try not to go anywhere alone."

"…Yes, ma'am."

"Ha-eun, you keep a good eye on him, okay?"

"Ah — yes!"

With grave instructions that the two of us absolutely must stay together, she watched us with hawk-like eyes until the very moment Park Ha-eun and I moved to another spot.

The clock had crept up to two-thirty.

Getting away from Park Ha-eun seemed impossible… and in that case, better to stay beside her and stop the accident myself.

"Ha-eun."

"…Yes!"

"The fifth exhibit hall is the only one we have left, so I think we just need to stop by there. We'll go through it fast, then rest until it's time to leave."

"Okay. Sure…."

Park Ha-eun trailed along after me with an awkward expression.

Not knowing when or where something might happen, I approached the entrance cautiously — and a sign caught my eye.

Fifth Outdoor Exhibit Hall Theme: Fireflies

The moment I read the words firefly lighting, everything went dark before my eyes. That was it.

An unmistakable sense of foreboding swept across my back — one I couldn't possibly have pretended not to feel.

Stepping inside, I saw an outdoor space noticeably larger than the halls we'd visited earlier.

Rows of trees stood at regular intervals, and strung between them in long lines hung lights shaped like fireflies, packed close together.

The glass housings encasing each bulb had been treated with color, so even under the bright afternoon sun they caught the light and sparkled in every direction.

Yellow as the dominant color, shimmering in a dozen variations, in numbers far too great to count — it was, honestly, a breathtaking sight.

One look and it's obvious that's what falls. But… why would it fall?

I wanted to steer clear of anywhere with lights overhead, but everywhere I turned, they glittered above me.

I was about to tell Park Ha-eun we'd seen enough and should head out when—

"It's really pretty…."

Her eyes were shining as bright as the lights themselves, and I swallowed the words.

If I told her to leave, she'd probably insist on staying to look, even alone. Better to let her finish quickly — while I searched for any fixture hanging by a thread.

"Shall we go this way?"

"Yeah!"

Watching Park Ha-eun walk along, unable to tear her eyes from the lights, was driving me out of my mind with anxiety.

I kept glancing up to check that the fixtures were holding firm, while ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠also keeping tabs on Park Ha-eun, who kept drifting off our path at the slightest thing.

And in the middle of all that, the lights kept multiplying as we went deeper in, as if they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠were propagating on their own.

Then Angae — no, rather, one of the figures Angae so often borrowed, a boy from the neighboring class — came sidling up.

"Ha-eun. Why are you hanging around with him?"

"Excuse me?"

"I told you before, didn't I? Plenty of kids have gotten hurt after crossing paths with Lee Yeonjae."

Were these two close?

Whatever the neighboring-class boy was saying to her — his eyes fixed on Park Ha-eun alone — I had already stopped in my tracks, and I used the pause to sweep my gaze over the lights overhead.

"Say what, exactly? Don't pick a fight and just keep walking."

"No, I'm just saying don't stick to him? I'm not butting in for nothing. You know somebody died because of that g—"

"Oh Seung-hyun, are you insane?! Saying that with him standing right there!"

Park Ha-eun cut off the neighboring-class boy — Oh Seung-hyun — with a horrified jolt.

Her brow knotted in fury, and even as she snapped at him, her eyes darted busily, stealing glances my way.

"I was just looking out for you, and this is the thanks I get? Wow. Hurtful."

"If you're going to spout crazy nonsense, please, just leave."

No matter how many times I searched, I couldn't find a single fixture with a loose joint or frayed seam.

Well — a place of this size couldn't afford to neglect maintenance on an exhibit hall swarming with students.

So how? How could that thing break and embed itself in Park Ha-eun's face?

What was I missing?