My brother beaned someone on the basketball court and tasked me with delivering his apology note. But curiosity got the better of me. I tore open the envelope, and suddenly, a stream of text filled my vision—like comments on a livestream. 【LMAO, he hits the one girl out of everyone on the court? This dude is so obvious. Does he really think that’s a good way to get the main girl’s attention?】 【Seriously, can these two siblings get a clue? One intentionally injures people on the court, the other is constantly clinging to the male lead. Are they addicted to being the villains in our main couple's love story?】 【They’re so annoying. Can’t they just disappear and let our leads have their moment?】 【It’s fine, lol. The two of them are just a couple of simps. The brother is the worst—a total coward who’s been crushing on her from the start. This is just for comedic relief. Hahahaha.】 What? I might be a simp, that’s fine. But my brother? The six-foot-two dreamboat with abs, who can play basketball, who’s a total charmer, who’s kind and sunny and has a voice that could melt butter—he’s a simp, too? And he’s got a secret crush? I laughed so hard I almost died. That night, I rewrote the apology note into a full-blown love letter and delivered it to the girl myself. 1 By the time Briar got back from the teacher’s office, I’d already been waiting in the hallway for nearly ten minutes. The hot sun bleached the ends of her hair, and her washed-out school uniform was buttoned meticulously to the very top. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were red-rimmed. She had the look of someone who was easy to push around. And honestly, she was. She was clutching a packet of competition math problems. Every question was covered in perfect checkmarks, yet next to each one, she’d used a red pen to write out an even more concise solution. It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened. Someone’s cold remarks had clearly gotten to her. I narrowed my eyes and straightened up. My friends fell in line behind me, completely blocking her path. “You’re Briar?” I said, crossing my arms and looking down at her with my prettiest, most intimidating eyes. Students in the hallway started to stare, their whispers buzzing in the air. “What’s going on? How did Briar get on the wrong side of her?” Someone else drawled, “Who knows? Probably because she’s been spending all her time with John for the math competition. You know how jealous she gets.” “That makes sense. Looks like she’s about to get a warning.” The whispers were impossible to ignore. Briar clutched the hem of her uniform, her fingers twisting the fabric. When she looked up, her wide, doe-like eyes were trembling. She was obviously nervous, but she forced her voice to be steady. “Can I help you?” The captions were a torrent of criticism. 【First she harasses the male lead, now she’s bullying the female lead. I’m so sick of her! Does she really think this will make him like her?!】 【Is she starting trouble again? I’m scared. Is our girl gonna get bullied?】 【Don’t worry. If she touches a single hair on her head, the male lead will be here in a second to put her in her place!】 【But I don’t think the main couple even likes each other yet.】 【He’ll still protect her instinctively. They’re soulmates, after all.】 Out of all that text, two words stood out. Bullying? Did I really look like I was here to bully her? Briar kept her expression neutral, watching us without flinching. Her fingers tightened, feeling every fold and crease in the papers she held. It was almost a reminder to herself—reaching for things that don't belong to you will only bring trouble. Just as she was bracing for whatever nasty thing I was about to say, a rich, floral scent drifted through the air. A love letter appeared right in front of her. “So, here’s the deal,” I said. “My brother has a huge crush on you.” “But he’s a total coward, so he asked me to give you this.” The pink envelope was perfectly square, adorned with a decorative stamp and sealed with a beautiful, pressed flower. Briar stared at it, momentarily stunned. A letter this exquisite seemed completely out of place with her own simple, almost threadbare existence. But there, written clearly on the front, was her name. All of her energy was poured into studying, into winning scholarships just to claw her way out of poverty. She had never, ever imagined a scene like this. She had no idea how to react. Her heartbeat, a beat late, began to thunder in her ears, a frantic rhythm that, combined with the catcalls and whoops from the surrounding students, threatened to swallow her whole. Her eyes were red, her earlobes were red, and her cheeks were even redder. So cute. She was the perfect match for my handsome brother. I placed the envelope in her hand with a grin. The paper, warm from the sun, was so hot it made her fingertips curl. The teasing from the crowd grew louder. Her blush deepened, creeping all the way to her ears. “Is this… is this from the guy on the basketball court the other day?” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. She sounded uncertain. “Yep! The one who accidentally hit you with the ball.” Suddenly, a flash of bold, passionate red broke through her otherwise drab memories. A boy in a red jersey. His features were sharp, almost fierce, but when he had crouched down to her level, he had apologized, flustered, gently asking if she was okay. It was a stark contrast to John's cold, detached aura. This boy had smelled of the scorching afternoon sun, sweat still glistening on the lean muscles of his arms. He radiated a vibrant, almost overwhelming life force that was unique to boys his age. But even in that moment, her attention had been drawn to his shoes. Expensive, limited-edition sneakers that silently screamed the chasm between their social classes. He was like John, and yet, completely different. Even though the game was on the line, he’d had a friend take her to the nurse’s office and had even pressed his student ID card into her hand, telling her to use it for any medical fees. As he turned to leave, she saw the name printed on the back of his jersey. Martin. A name that sounded as vibrant and full of life as he was. “Remember now? My brother, Martin. He’s a senior,” I said, giving her a wink. She slowly tightened her grip on the letter, her voice soft and trembling with nerves. “Yeah.” “He really, really likes you. But… he’s a coward.” The morning sun was bright and warm. Her eyelashes fluttered. She couldn’t help but wonder. A boy so dazzling you could hardly look at him directly… Could he really be a coward? 2 For that little stunt, the captions cursed me out for days. 【She just has to mess with the main couple’s story, doesn’t she! So gross!】 【Does she really think the female lead would fall for her brother? Talk about delusional.】 【LMAO, her brother is the classic second male lead. The main guy might be cold, but that’s exactly what the female lead likes about him. That whole ‘cold on the outside, warm on the inside’ thing.】 【Totally. Someone as insecure and sensitive as the female lead would prefer a quiet, steady presence. Someone with a personality that different from hers would just make her uncomfortable. She only accepted the letter to avoid an awkward scene. There’s no way she actually likes him.】 Was that really true? As I walked into the exam hall with my pencils, I saw Briar. Her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed distracted, her gaze frequently drifting to a boy sitting in the front left of the room. That was my brother, Martin. My eyes followed hers, and then I froze. My gaze was fixed on the chocolate bar still sitting in Martin’s palm. Wait. He didn’t give it to her? …Or was he rejected? I had seen the exam seating chart ahead of time, and the moment I knew Briar would be in our hall, I told Martin. He had just grunted, a nonchalant “Mm,” but the tips of his ears had turned red. I sensed something was up. “You already knew, didn’t you?” “A friend told me.” “They know you have a crush on Briar, too?! No way, when did you get so bold?” I caught the dark look he shot me. …Oh, right. It was probably because I’d been so over-the-top when I delivered the letter. He’d found out from his friends that same day that I’d swapped his apology for a love letter. But he hadn’t denied it, his excuse being that it would have embarrassed her. I saw right through it. He was clearly happy about it. So, I had given him a special chocolate bar a friend had brought me from abroad and told him to give it to Briar the next day. For the first time, the boy who was always so composed and confident showed a rare flicker of adolescent awkwardness. “Won’t that be… too sudden?” he’d asked, hesitating. “You don’t give a girl gifts when you’re trying to win her over?” I’d asked, confused. “When you’re pursuing a girl, you give her flowers, bags, gifts! If you just talk and don’t spend any money, that’s not called pursuing, that’s called harassing.” I was very self-righteous about it. Martin had agreed. I just never imagined his first attempt at giving a girl a gift would end in a flat-out rejection. I couldn’t help but sneak a few glances at him. He was resting his head on one hand, his eyes downcast. A faint blush dusted his pale skin. He looked like he was thinking, or maybe just zoning out. And the chocolate bar between his long fingers was mangled beyond recognition. The captions were a symphony of mockery. 【LMAO, I told you the female lead wouldn’t fall for a side character. He got rejected so hard!】 【He played himself. The clown is him! Hahahaha.】 【They’re all just simps for the main couple anyway. Might as well watch the circus.】 Simps. Haha, I was actually starting to feel a little sorry for us. 3 With a wooden expression, I walked past John’s desk without stopping. I kept going, right past him. The boy, who was usually the picture of indifference, actually flinched, his eyelids twitching. Yes, not only were Briar and my brother in the same exam hall, but John was here, too. Of course. The side characters only exist to ornament the main characters’ love story. My brother was already miserable enough. I couldn’t embarrass myself, too. The seating for the monthly exam wasn’t strict. I easily swapped seats with the boy in front of me and sat down next to Briar. She snapped back to reality, a lock of hair falling beside her ear, hiding her momentarily panicked eyes. The fountain pen at the edge of her desk was knocked off by her elbow, rolling to my feet. The logo on the cap was faded, with only a single letter, L, barely visible. The body of the pen was heavily worn, the plating rubbed away to reveal the base metal underneath. I was about to bend down and pick it up for her, but she was faster. She shot out of her seat, grabbed the pen, and clutched it tightly in her palm. “Thank you,” she said, noticing my intention. Her voice was quiet and quick. For a moment, I let go of my usual spoiled princess act and gave her a friendly smile. “No problem.” Can you even write with a pen like that? I couldn’t help but watch her. When the exam papers were handed out, she took a normal gel pen from her pencil case and neatly wrote her name. The battered fountain pen just sat quietly on her desk. It seemed to be there more for companionship than for use. My mind drifted. Maybe she just didn’t like chocolate. That’s why she rejected Martin. Next time, I’ll have him give her some school supplies. He can’t get rejected for that, right? The chirping of the cicadas outside mingled with the soft scratching of pens inside. I didn’t know how to do any of the problems, so I just spun my pen, rested my chin on my hand, and openly studied her. She wrote slowly, deliberately. She was slightly hunched over, her strokes careful and unhurried. I’d heard she was the first person from her hometown to ever get into this high school. She had fought her way out of a family that favored sons over daughters, enduring everyone’s doubts and pressure to get to where she was today. Like a small white flower blooming from the face of a cliff. Beneath her seemingly fragile exterior was a stubborn and unyielding soul. How could someone who craved love and validation so much fall for someone as cold and almost cruel as John? I couldn’t figure it out. Perhaps my stare was too intense. She turned her head slightly and looked at me. When she saw I had left the last multiple-choice question blank, she pursed her lips and subtly flashed me a ‘C’ with her fingers. My eyes lit up. Way more generous than that cheapskate John! A girl this kind and gentle deserved my brother! So what if we were simps? I’d be her little simp, too! 4 As usual, John finished his exam half an hour early. A wave of cold air washed over me as he walked past my desk. His dark eyes flicked down for a split second, his gaze landing on my long-finished answer sheet. At that moment, I was slumped over my desk, doodling circles on my scratch paper out of sheer boredom. It was obvious I was waiting for someone. But even as he handed in his paper and was about to walk out of the classroom, he heard no sound of a chair scraping behind him. The proctor looked up as the boy returned. “What’s wrong?” he asked, surprised. “Forgot my pen,” John said flatly. The crisp, straight line of his pant leg passed by my desk for a second time. And I was still doodling. I didn’t even look up. All the attention I used to lavish on John was now focused entirely on Briar. I was doodling and fretting. What excuse could I use to get Briar and my brother to have lunch together? 5 With five minutes left, Briar stood up to hand in her paper. Martin and I capped our pens in perfect sync, got up, and followed her out of the classroom, shoulder to shoulder. “How come you didn’t go find John today?” he asked. I pouted. “Don’t want to.” We pretended to be going with the flow of the crowd, but we were actually tailing her all the way to the cafeteria. After getting our food, we both sat down right across from her. When Briar looked up, she was met with two pairs of nearly identical eyes staring at her intently. I chose to ignore the sea of empty tables around us and gave her a wink. “It’s so crowded in here. You don’t mind if we sit here, do you?” She lowered her head. “N-no, it’s fine. Go ahead,” she mumbled. Martin and I rarely ate in the main first-floor cafeteria. I glanced at the sad-looking vegetables on her tray and blurted out, “Is that all you’re eating? There’s no nutrition in that…” As I spoke, I picked up a piece of braised pork, but the moment it hit my tongue, I gagged. “Blech… this is disgusting…” Briar looked startled. “Is it… spoiled?” she asked hesitantly. But the glossy sheen and fragrant aroma suggested otherwise. “It’s nothing, she’s just a picky eater,” Martin explained to her sheepishly, handing me a napkin to wipe my mouth. “Oh, okay.” Briar awkwardly averted her gaze. She was about to say she had an unopened bottle of water in her backpack, but then she saw me stand up. “I’m going to go buy some milk to rinse my mouth out. You guys take your time.” The slender hand that had just touched her backpack zipper quickly retreated. Now, there were only two of them at the table. The atmosphere instantly became tense. Briar ducked her head even lower, her world shrinking to the confines of her tray as she ate, bite by silent bite. Suddenly, she heard the boy across from her speak, his voice tentative. “Are you on a diet?” Her poverty suddenly had a plausible excuse. Briar’s hand paused. “Mm,” she mumbled, the sound barely audible. “You’re under a lot of academic pressure right now, you should eat properly,” Martin said, his eyes downcast. His voice was slow and deep. “She’s probably not coming back. Can you help me finish this meat? It’d be a shame to waste it.” Before she could refuse, he had already picked up his tray and scraped all of his meat onto hers. She was silent for a long time. Martin finally looked up and met her wide, shimmering, red-rimmed eyes. She stared at him, a storm of unreadable emotions swirling in their depths, before she forcibly tucked them away behind a soft, watery gaze. Her expression felt strangely familiar to him, so familiar it made his heart ache. …It made him want to protect her. She looked at him, and then a small smile curved her lips. Quietly, but clearly and firmly, she said, “Thank you, Martin.”
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