My Platinum-Blond Childhood Friend Is So Pretty

0 – Prologue

Five years old.

The day I first went to kindergarten, holding my mother’s hand.

In that peaceful space where children of the same age were playing and chattering in small groups.

Only one.

There was a child who captivated my gaze and heart.

“Wow…”

A girl sitting alone, a little apart, reading a picture book.

Platinum hair flowing down like silk.

Long eyelashes and pretty eyes shining in a light shade of blue.

A chubby face that seemed unimpressed, as if saying, “I don’t care.”

But her finely crafted features were perfectly in place, making even that chubby face incredibly cute.

Looking at her, other children who could immediately see the ‘difference’ were afraid and unable to approach her.

In my young mind, I thought.

‘Like a princess…’

Like a princess.

Just like the beautiful princess from my favorite animation that I watched every morning on TV.

The princess I had only seen through the screen had suddenly appeared before my eyes.

She really looked like her.

The princess in the comics who, unlike the typical damsel in distress, traveled and dealt with incidents on her own.

Sometimes she was bold.

Sometimes cute.

Sometimes cool.

Her ability to resolve incidents on her own, instead of just waiting to be rescued, shone so brightly.

She became my favorite character, and it became the starting point for falling in love with all kinds of princess characters later on.

Because I was like that, I couldn’t take my eyes off the girl who resembled the princess.

I stepped away from the teacher who kindly told various stories beside me and approached her.

Absentmindedly, one step at a time.

Just as I took about three steps.

– Swoosh

Did she think a troublemaker had come, or was it her inherently chubby face that furrowed even more as she stared at me? Perhaps she was surprised; her eyes seemed to widen roundly.

However, I, moved even more by her beautiful face and eyes looking straight at me, hesitatedly sat in front of her.

Unaware that the sketchbook and crayons that I lived with every day at home were now missing.

To her.

I persuaded Alicia, a 5-year-old.

“Do you want to draw a picture together?”

Like any other child, hoping she would enjoy what I liked.

Innocently, or with a somewhat blank face, I suggested drawing, and she responded with short words, her small lips quivering.

“Okay, let’s draw.”