Chapter 3: A Misstep
Lunch break, second half.
With his bento finished and still no one to talk to, Csepel stood from his desk and stretched his arms above his head. The classroom buzzed faintly with chatter, but none of it was directed at him. Nothing new.
He slipped out of the classroom quietly, his steps echoing down the empty corridor.
He wasn't really going anywhere. Just… walking. Wandering. Looking for a place that felt a little quieter than the classroom where everyone had friends. Somewhere he could breathe for a moment and be alone with his thoughts.
As he turned the corner toward the stairwell, his mind was already far away—half-dreaming about finishing school early, or maybe getting lost in a good book later at home.
That was when he saw them.
A group of girls, likely upperclassmen, coming down the stairs while balancing a tower of cardboard boxes in their arms. One girl in particular led the group—she had long, black hair tied neatly behind her, and her steps were composed and elegant despite the heavy load.
Their eyes met for a second.
It was just a glance—Csepel didn't think anything of it. He looked away politely and prepared to step aside.
But then—
"Ah—!"
The girl at the front lost her balance.
In a single chaotic moment, she stumbled, the boxes tilted forward, and she fell.
Right toward him.
Csepel didn't even have time to move. His thoughts were too slow, his body even slower. All he could do was widen his eyes as the girl crashed into him—and the world tilted.
Wham!
Boxes flew everywhere.
And somehow—through either the cruel hand of fate or a deeply ironic god—Csepel found himself lying flat on the floor of the stairwell landing.
With someone on top of him.
More specifically, with her on top of him.
His face was warm.
His ribs hurt.
The weight on his chest shifted slightly, and then—
"Oh my," the girl said, her voice cool and strangely composed. "I didn't expect to bump into Csepel from class 1-1."
Csepel blinked.
How did she know his name?
More importantly—could she please get off?
"Uhm," he muttered, looking up at her awkwardly. "Would you mind standing up? You're kinda… heavy."
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted it.
The girl froze.
Her expression didn't change much—but her eyes did. A small glint, subtle but noticeable. The kind that said, You shouldn't have said that.
"...How rude," she said flatly.
She didn't move.
In fact, she made herself more comfortable, sitting squarely on his stomach like it was a bench.
Csepel groaned. "Seriously… can you move?"
She tilted her head and looked down at him calmly. "You know, most boys would be grateful for this kind of situation."
"I'm not most boys."
"Clearly," she replied.
The surrounding students, some from other classes, had stopped to watch the scene unfold. A few whispered among themselves.
"Wait… isn't that Ayano-senpai…?"
"She's on the student council, right?"
"Isn't that first-year boy from Class 1-1? The foreigner?"
Csepel felt his soul leave his body.
Great, he thought. Of course this would happen to me.
Ayano showed no sign of embarrassment. Her voice remained calm, almost eerily so. "It's rude to say a girl is heavy, you know."
"I didn't mean it like that," Csepel said, exasperated. "I just meant… you're crushing my ribs."
She hummed, not convinced. "Still. That's not very gentlemanly."
"I said I'm sorry."
She smiled—just a little. "Apology denied."
"Denied?!"
"Yes. I'll sit here until I feel properly compensated."
"This isn't a court of law!"
Ayano crossed her arms and looked away dramatically. "The accused is guilty of insensitivity and a lack of charm."
Csepel sighed. He could feel several pairs of eyes staring at him now.
"This is going to be the biggest misunderstanding of my life," he muttered under his breath.
Still seated on top of him, Ayano turned her gaze back to him. "You know my name, right?"
"...Ayano-senpai. Class 2-2. You're on the student council."
"Good memory," she said, nodding approvingly. "And you're Csepel. I've heard about you."
"Why does everyone know me but not talk to me?" he muttered to himself.
Ayano tilted her head again, her long black ponytail swaying gently. "You stand out. But you don't let anyone approach you."
"That's not true."
"Isn't it?"
Csepel didn't have an answer for that.
After a few more seconds of silence, Ayano finally stood up with elegance that contrasted heavily with the chaos of their earlier collision. She brushed dust off her uniform and turned to look at the scattered boxes and papers.
"Looks like the files are fine," she said casually.
"You care more about the papers than crushing me?"
"You're sturdy," she replied without missing a beat.
Csepel forced himself up, wincing as he stood. "That's not how this works."
Ayano turned to him once more, her tone softening. "You're interesting, Csepel."
He blinked. "...What?"
"Most boys would've been flustered. Red-faced. Stammering. You didn't even blush." She leaned forward slightly, a curious smile tugging at her lips. "Or maybe… you're just used to girls sitting on you?"
"No! Definitely not!"
She chuckled quietly. "I see. So you're an honest one."
Csepel rubbed his forehead. "Can we not make a scene next time?"
"I can't promise that," she said coolly.
With that, Ayano bent down and began stacking the boxes again.
Csepel hesitated. Then sighed.
"...Need help?"
"Of course," she replied, not even looking at him.
And so, without fully understanding how or why, Csepel found himself carrying half a dozen boxes alongside a mysterious upperclassman girl who had just used him as a cushion.
I just wanted a peaceful walk, he thought, eyes half-lidded.
And yet, somehow, that was the furthest thing from what he got.
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To be continued...
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