Chapter 1
578words
Sometimes I think I'm pathetically hopeless.
But I simply can't make myself fall for anyone else.
I was likely born with a condition—some kind of psychological disorder. Obsessive, isolated, occasionally violent. Yet I still experience emotions like anyone else.
When my peers were having their first romances, exchanging sweet nothings and stolen kisses, I looked at those boys and felt nothing but gut-level revulsion.
The elders in my family worried endlessly. They applied pressure in their own ways, but I've always been hot-tempered and never gave a damn about their well-meaning concerns.
It's not that I completely rejected their matchmaking efforts. The suitors they found genuinely seemed perfect on paper. But no matter how hard these men tried to charm me, to me they were as interesting as roadside gravel—unable to create even the tiniest ripple in my emotional waters.
They even tried locking me in rooms with these men, but I brandished a knife and promised them that any unwanted touch would end with their guts spilled across the floor.
Eventually, they gave up on me. I became the family outcast.
This suited me perfectly, as I've always preferred my own company. I had a vast family estate all to myself. Day after day, I wandered through it, feeling the damp earth between my fingers, watching grass blades dance in the wind, marveling at sunlight fracturing through morning dew. This unchanging landscape became my entire universe.
Until that day, when my predictable world was disrupted.
Beyond the garden wall, a strange figure appeared. He stood silently, like a tree that had suddenly sprouted overnight, breaking the familiar stillness of my view.
He wasn't particularly handsome; compared to the carefully selected suitors my family had paraded before me, he was rather ordinary. But the moment I saw him, something dormant within me suddenly stirred. It wasn't my usual disgust—it was a strange, heart-quickening attraction.
Perhaps it was love at first sight.
From that day forward, he became the variable in my monotonous existence. He would appear daily, standing in the same spot, watching me from afar. His gaze was different, unlike those men who tried to impress me with transparent motives. In his eyes, I saw genuine interest, curiosity, and even a touch of nervous admiration I found strangely endearing.
I began anticipating his appearances. My daily wanderings were no longer just killing time. I would showcase myself within his line of sight. When the wind blew, I would turn to face it dramatically. When sunlight streamed through the trees, I would bathe in its glow. The entire garden became my personal stage, with him as my captive audience.
This wordless connection across the wall continued for months until one day, I grew impatient with waiting. A strange impulse took hold, and for the first time, I approached him. I circled him slowly, deliberately, bringing him into my territory.
He froze, his entire body tensing at this sudden closeness. His expression was one of bewildered surprise, as if silently asking: "Me? Really?" His reaction was so charmingly awkward that I couldn't help but laugh.
From that day on, my nights were filled with thoughts of him. The way he looked so flattered by my attention, the nearness where we could almost feel each other's warmth—all replayed endlessly in my mind. I couldn't quite name this feeling—this mixture of anticipation and anxiety nestled in my chest—but I believe I had truly fallen in love.
