Anita looked at the blue butterfly on the back of my hand with a distraught face. The butterfly was so vivid in the painting that it almost felt like it was looking at her through pathetic eyes.

Or maybe it was Anita’s own paranoia.


The hallway was unusually busy today. It didn’t take long to realize why. A few students were handing out invitations to passersby, looking tired but trying to look cheerful.

Anita, passing by carrying a book at her side, was caught by one of them and given an invitation. After looking at the invitation envelope for a moment, sealed with a melted beeswax seal, she tried to stuff it into her jacket pocket.

As Anita fumbled with her robe, holding the wobbly stack of books in one hand, someone grabbed the pile of books from her.

“It’s a new student welcome… a frat party disguised as a welcome.”

There was obviously no one else around, but the voice came out of nowhere and startled Anita.

“Why, why are you coming out of nowhere?”

Anita managed to calm down, preventing herself from screaming in the middle of the hallway.

“I don’t know.”

Edmund yawned nonchalantly, unaware of Anita’s incredulity. At this point, I wonder if this guy is really homeless, popping up in the strangest places every time I see him.

“What’s that on the back of your hand, are you hurt?”


Edmund gingerly grasped Anita’s left hand and lifted it.

“You didn’t bruise it from me grabbing it yesterday, did you?”

Seeing his bright face darken a bit, Anita shook her head.

Anita couldn’t erase the butterfly drawing with her own hands. Perhaps because I only washed it with water without rubbing it, it remained as soft as a faded photo. If Rutger asked how the butterfly was doing, I was planning to answer that it somehow got erased. However, Rutger Baylan did not appear for several days. Until the butterfly drawn on the back of Anita’s hand completely disappeared.

She wished it had never touched the butterfly in the first place, because whether it was clumsily erased or still alive on the back of her hand, he wouldn’t have cared anyway.

“I didn’t have any paper, so I practiced drawing on the back of my hand, and even if I tried to erase it, it wouldn’t come off.”

“Do you want me to erase it?”

“No. No. It’s okay.”

I was grateful, but Anita quickly moved his hand away before he could reach for it.

“Oh. Have you decided which club you’re going to join?”

“Not yet.”

It had nothing to do with Anita, but it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that most college students decide to go to college because of the clubs on campus, there are two main types of students: those who come to college purely for the love of learning, whose passion for learning is so strong that they want to pursue higher education, and those who have come all this way for the sole purpose of making high-level connections.

I’ve heard rumors that the second group is often obsessed with socializing.

Anita, of course, fell into neither category. She had no great passion for learning, no desire to make good connections, just the result of her father, Nathan, preferring an intellectual who had firm convictions about all the problems of society and wouldn’t back down from them to an ignorant and uninformed daughter.

How can we adapt quickly to a changing world? Instead of doing menial work, you should become a noble class of intellectuals. Anita had the feeling that if that was the definition of an intellectual, then she didn’t want to be one of them.

As Anita was thinking this rather pessimistic thought, Edmund shoved an invitation to the new student welcome party into Anita’s coat pocket, along with another suspicious envelope.

“What is it?”

“Club invitation, application, whatever.”


I didn’t really need it, but I took it anyway.

“Don’t you think the student council president is too impressed that he gave her a simple application form? It’s not like I’m going to feel sorry for him and take money out of the school budget.”

Edmund mumbled something incoherent and disappeared down the hall.

‘Domestic and foreign politics’

For some reason, it seemed like this place would only be filled with men who smoke strong cigarettes and show off.


I don’t think it’s that bad.


I think this place would be perfect for a violent person like Rutger.



There were dozens of other clubs listed on the paper. Horseback riding, tea ceremony, flower arranging, walking.

Staring wearily at the streaks of black ink that filled the white paper, Anita put the paper away. Rubbing her stiff eyes, she looked up at the sound of someone’s footsteps and stopped in front of it.

“Anita, why haven’t I heard from you all this time?”

Anita ran a hand through her oily hair.

“It’s been a few days, but I’m sure you weren’t in the mood to talk to me then.”

He shook his head sadly. This was the same senior who had made her run away from him last time.

Who would be sad now?

Anita was despairing that this nameless man hadn’t given up. First, he was being rude to her, and now he was acting like he was my lover.

Maybe he didn’t hear me tell him to get lost. Or maybe he didn’t remember.

In fact, the whole problem was there. Anita doesn’t even know his name. He does not even introduce himself properly and engages in one-sided courtship activities with Anita.

Anita’s eyes grew cold as she met the man’s unnecessary stare.

She wondered how she could say no, would he even listen to her for refusing?

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