Everyone lives their lives according to their beliefs and mindset. To some, life is a journey to be lived to its fullest; for others, it is a gift. To me, it is a movie where I write my script, and all I need to do is play my role until the curtains close.
It doesn't matter who is with me or what I'm doing—whether it's what I want or what I need. My job is to play the "good girl" that my parents and others deserve.
At first, I thought this way of life was fine. This mindset of playing a role served me well in my childhood. Everyone praised me. My parents said they were proud of me, all because I did everything they wanted.
But as time went on—
I began to see everyone as side characters who existed only to improve my role as the main heroine. So I stopped caring about their words and simply did what my parents asked me to do.
I joined administration as my high school course, even though I was drawn to something else… witchcraft. All because my parents wanted me to be a reputable woman in the future.
That was when I began to feel something.
A sharp pain in my heart—an unfamiliar emotion that made it hard to breathe. I didn't understand it at the time, so I ignored it.
To me, both the stage and the side characters would disappear after the act. So I learned to read the room, observing the cues in people's body language.
What are they doing?
Are they tapping their feet?
Crossing their arms?
Has their facial expression changed?
From that, I figure out what I need to do—and I do it.
It worked well… until it didn't.
During my first six months of high school, everything began to collapse. I realized that the situations, the stages, and the characters from my past hadn't disappeared—they were all connected to my present. Like a spider's web.
The good girl.
A reputable student.
A kind girlfriend.
A strict class representative.
In middle school, it was simple.
At home, I acted childish.
At school, I was a talented student.
But in high school, a boy from my class confessed to me.
I accepted—not because I felt something, but because I wanted to understand what love and relationships were, what everyone kept talking about.
His name is Rill Vincent.
His eyes are brown, and his dark green hair curls slightly. From his head grows a pair of sheep-like horns. His body is in decent shape from working out.
He is awkward and introverted, someone who doesn't even speak up for himself. The kind of person who feels like the protagonist of a romantic comedy—dense, a little clueless, but somehow cute. Yet, when it comes to fire-type magic, he is very talented.
He confessed to me in the second month of high school. At first, I thought of him as just another side character—someone who could give me the opportunity to learn about love.
At first he seemed like everyone to me—but something changed inside me.
But now, I'm surprised by how much impact he has had on me over the past four months.
As I finished writing in my diary, I closed it and rested the pen on top. My gaze lifted toward the night sky beyond my study table window.
The sky was deep blue, filled with stars, and a crimson moon hung above them. The scene was strong, tempting… almost comforting. It reminded me of my past—and all my regrets.
I stood up and walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth before going to sleep.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror.
My eyes glowed a deep blue.
My skin shone like gold even in the dim candlelight.
My hair was pitch black, except for a single silver strand at the front.
Two demon horns rested on my forehead.
After I finished, I turned off the candle in the bathroom and the one on my study table. I took a step back and sat on the small bed opposite the table.
I went over everything I needed to do tomorrow.
Then I leaned back.
The bed wasn't as soft as a feather, but it was comfortable enough for a good sleep.
I closed my eyes.
My breathing steadied—
and I fell asleep.
The morning sun shone brightly as its golden light pierced through my window, lighting up my room.
I woke up, my eyesight still blurry as it slowly adapted to my surroundings.
I stepped out of bed and looked to my left.
The room was small but sufficient for one person. The majority of the room was occupied by the bed and the study table opposite it. To the right of the bed stood a medium-sized shelf filled with black dresses. A medium-sized mirror hung on the wall opposite the shelf. A black wooden door that connects my room to the corridor stood between the shelf and the mirror.
To my right stood another black door that connects to a small bathroom.
I looked at the study table. On top of it lay a deep blue diary and a feather pen. A study lamp made of wood and candle sat beside it. Beside the diary sat a piece of paper with the title "Request Letter" on it, with nothing else written.
My gaze fixed on the paper as my hands clenched, my eyes narrowed, and my mouth tightened. My chest tightened; anger and guilt twisted inside me as I struggled to breathe.
My mind recalled bitter memories—how I fell from being the school's ideal student to a girl who cheated.
Yeah, I cheated.
Not in the way others do… but yeah i maybe crossed the line.
But what's so wrong about it? I wanted to learn what love was. I accepted Rill's confession and dated him for three months, but he never showed me anything about love.
I watched couples hold hands and drink from the same cup, sharing secret glances in class. But he always kept his distance and never let me get to know him.
I tried.
I played my best, acting like the kind girlfriend—always listening to him, eating lunch with him, even flirting. But he returned nothing…
Nothing, except giving me advice on my worldview.
We had been dating for three months, but all I knew about him was—
he's a coward. All talk, but nothing when it matters.
But—
somehow, his cowardly personality seemed charming to me.
Even though he never let me get to know him more, I can see why.
It's natural for a sheep to be scared of a demon.
He and I are different. I'm a demon—it's in my nature to see others as mere mortals.
And he is a sheep—it's his nature to be afraid of me. But he still confessed to me, and that moved something in my heart for the first time. I didn't know it was love at the time, and I'm still mad at him for keeping me at a distance.
Because he never talked to me in class, but when we were alone, he became a more open and talkative person. Even then, he only spoke about my reputation. When I asked simple questions, like what he liked to do in his free time, he gave vague answers like eating, playing games, and reading.
And now I can understand…
A flicker of memory came to my mind—a memory that is the beginning of all the destruction.
It was the third month of my first year in high school, and we had been dating for a month.
It was a warm Sunday evening in spring, when the flowers bloomed and so did people's hearts and feelings.
It was my plan to go for a walk in the park. Everything was perfect for something romantic to happen.
The weather was warm, and the sun was about to set at any moment. The world was filled with reddish-pink light. Colorful stars began to appear, and the glowing blue moon began to take its place in the night. We were alone in the park, walking side by side. Moonflowers bloomed on either side of the path, glowing with an eerie blue tone under the moon's aura.
I wore a thin black frock that complemented my figure, and he wore a simple green T-shirt and track pants. As planned, the timing and the scenario were perfect. Only my part—to push things forward—remained.
I moved slightly closer to him. I clearly saw his body tense at the sudden closeness.
It wasn't only him—but me as well.
All the other things were easy to set up, but the final touch to the most romantic scene was for me to be completely immersed in it.
I could feel my body react in ways I had never felt before. A sharp shiver ran through my spine as my cheeks flushed red, my hands shook, and my entire body practically screamed that I couldn't handle the moment.
Even with all that, there was one thing I wanted to learn that evening, and I was so focused on it.
For the first time, our hands held—even though I was the one who practically grabbed his hand, it still counted…
This contact led him to turn his head toward me. His eyes widened, and fear and shock spread across his face. His ears changed color.
We both looked into each other's eyes so long that I even forgot we had stopped walking. The air felt so comforting, and everything felt right.
I placed my hand on his cheek. My thumb brushed his cheekbone, careful and gentle.
Then—
I leaned forward, closing the distance between us.
Even now, I'm surprised that I did all this in the past.
I'm convinced that this was the most romantic part of my life.
He crushed it all with one line.
"Hey, you don't need to treat your life as a movie."