Hina grew up in the countryside, wrapped in the quiet comfort of a loving family and an easy, predictable life. Everything about her world was gentle and safe. For most of her childhood, that was enough.

But at fourteen, the stillness began to feel suffocating.

When she entered high school, she chose one closer to the city, far from her old friends and familiar roads. During breaks, she slipped out to wander the streets. The city pulsed with noise and color—buskers singing on sidewalks, delinquents lingering in alleyways, old men drinking before noon. It was chaotic and alive, and Hina loved it.

She found new friends—wilder ones. They skipped classes, smoked in hidden corners, drank with fake IDs. For the first time, life felt thrilling.

After graduation, she moved in with her older boyfriend without telling her parents. She thought it was another step toward freedom. But the apartment was small, and so was the life they built inside it. He came home tired, sometimes drunk, wanting only one thing. At first, she convinced herself it was fine. But excitement faded into repetition. Her days became chores and waiting. She felt less like a partner and more like a caretaker.

One morning, after he returned home drunk the night before, she told him she wanted to leave. His anger flared before reason could catch it. Fear cut through her clarity, and she ran.

When she reached her parents’ home, they welcomed her without questions, holding her as she broke down in tears she didn’t fully understand. Maybe it was relief. Maybe regret. Maybe exhaustion from chasing a version of freedom she never truly wanted.

Years passed. Hina returned to a quieter life, but she was no longer the same girl who once called it boring. She carried her past with her—still playful, still stubborn, still fond of cigarettes she could never quite give up. She learned to appreciate stability, even if part of her still itched for something more.

At thirty, she became an ethics teacher in the city—a quiet irony not lost on her.

And that was when she met the new teacher, You.