The Interrupted Signature

Despite the shock of his bizarre response, he kept a perfectly calm face as he rummaged through the transparent file and handed me several sheets of paper he’d pulled from it.

The printouts were covered in children’s handwriting so messy it made my head spin. It looked like a fresh batch of papers needing grading had arrived.

I crossed my arms and glared down at him sideways.

“Didn’t you say you weren’t going to ask me for anything?”

“That’s right. I’m not asking you.”

As he spoke, he tapped one section of the printout with a long finger.

I read the adorable little message several times and felt a small smile tug at my lips.

It was a strangely complicated feeling.

I’d always assumed that being needed by someone I barely knew would be nothing but annoying. I’d even convinced myself it would be meaningless, since Evey Underwood was basically a fictional character who didn’t exist.

Yet the moment I saw that short sentence from some girl who was looking for me, I felt not only pride but a rush of gratitude.

I lifted my head again.

“Yeah, it’s true that you aren’t the one asking.”

The person asking me to grade these was a cute ten-year-old girl, not this four-eyed guy who didn’t have a single redeeming quality.

So if possible, I wanted to grant her request. It wasn’t hard, after all.

“Listen.”

I forced my eyes away from the child’s round handwriting.

“I don’t think I can do it this time. Can you tell her I’m sorry?”

Honestly, I expected Cyrus to just say “Got it” and walk away.

“Why?”

But an unexpected question came back.

“Ah.”

Before I could even answer, he made a small sound like he’d figured it out on his own.

“You’ve decided.”

He must have remembered the conversation we had in the library.

“Yeah.”

For some reason the whole thing felt awkward, so I answered curtly.

“We done here?”

I turned away from Cyrus as quickly as I could.

After all, me leaving school meant I would be tied to that guy for the rest of my life. The thought was so horrible, so suffocating, that I wanted to run away from this spot immediately.

“Wait.”

That short call stopped me in my tracks. I hesitated, then turned back to him.

“What?”

He seemed to wrestle with something for a moment before shaking his head. “Never mind.”

“Anyway, this is something you could keep doing even if you transfer to another school. So if you’re ever interested in this kind of work, Underwood—”

He took out a pen, scribbled something on a memo pad, and held it out. An email address was written on it.

My fingertips twitched. But I quickly pulled myself together and clasped my hands behind my back.

What was I supposed to do with that? Evey Underwood was going to disappear.

“……I’m not interested.”

His dark eyes quietly studied me. It was a measuring gaze.

He might have seen through the lie. But there was nothing I could do about it.

Eventually he withdrew his hand.

“Sorry.”

The word slipped out before I could stop it. I spun on my heel and hurried down the hallway with quick steps.

What had that apology even been for? Even I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

As I left the dormitory, I took off the thick glasses I always wore, shoved them into my pocket, and called Owen.

“Where are you right now?”

The moment I asked, a loud roar and strong wind rushed over my head. A helicopter was heading toward the replacement helipad.

I stood there for a moment watching it, then ended the call.

It had been a while since I’d been reminded just how capable Owen Graham was as a secretary. He had personally coordinated with the school on every detail needed for me to quietly finish out my school life.

In the meantime, following his suggestion, I was enjoying a cup of tea in the visitor’s chair in the principal’s office.

It wasn’t something I particularly wanted to do—it was Owen’s request.

He had made a huge fuss, as if my exposure to vegetable-based whipped cream and shortening was some kind of terrible catastrophe.

The truth was I loved margarine so much I would’ve knighted it if I could, so I found Owen’s dramatics completely ridiculous.

Still, I didn’t want to cause any unnecessary friction at school, so I obediently sipped the hibiscus tea he recommended—supposedly excellent for removing toxins.

While I drank, Owen organized all the necessary promises to erase the existence of Evey Underwood into a single document.

That document now sat in front of me inside a black leather file embossed with the royal lily emblem.

I opened the file and began looking through it, then habitually reached into my large backpack and pulled out my pencil case.

As I rummaged through the dusty, classroom-stained case, Owen immediately produced an elegant fountain pen and offered it to me.

A graceful fountain pen adorned with solid gold. And the ordinary ballpoint pen I hadn’t let out of my sight for months.

I looked back and forth between them, unsure which I should use to sign.

Not that it would change the outcome either way.

“Princess.”

At the principal’s quiet voice from across the desk, I looked up.

“Do you know what the most terrifying monster plaguing people in modern society is?”

What was this all of a sudden?

I shook my head.

“A signed document. Even the finest legion of lawyers protecting the royal family would struggle to overcome it.”

“Ah.”

“And if it bears the Princess’s signature, it carries even greater persuasive power and responsibility.”

“Principal, this isn’t class time.”

Owen cut him off.

“On the contrary, it is class time.”

The principal pushed back.

“At least until the Princess finishes signing.”

Owen had nothing more to say. He simply set the fountain pen down in front of me. The message was clear: sign quickly and let’s get out of here.

But I decided to sit in on the principal’s final lesson a little longer.

“I… thought you wanted me to leave, Principal.”

“What I want is for the Princess to choose for herself. Naturally, I wish the same for every other student.”

I stared at the principal’s face in silence for a moment before finally answering.

“I’ve made my decision.”

“Yet you’re hesitating.”

“No, not at all.”

I denied it out of habit, then quickly corrected myself.

“Actually… yes, I am.”

Thankfully, the principal didn’t ask what exactly I was hesitating over.

I probably couldn’t have given him a proper answer anyway. Certain moments had simply lodged in my heart like thorns, making each breath difficult.

I knew exactly what this feeling was. After enough time passed, these things always turned into regrets.

‘But.’

The reason I had to leave this place was already crystal clear.

Even though my relationship with Joy had improved somewhat, the girls of Dormitory 3 didn’t exactly hold warm feelings toward their class president, Evey.

If I stayed in this position, no one would be happy. That’s what I believed.

It could even end up hurting me, which was why Owen was cooperating so eagerly.

I took the familiar pen out of my pencil case. I would sign with this one after all. I was giving my own consent to erase the existence of Evey Underwood.

The pen tip touched the white paper. Black ink slowly began to spread from a single point.

That was when it happened.

“You can’t!”

A staff member’s shout came from beyond the closed door, and at the same time the door to the principal’s office flew open.

Startled, I turned around. Joy Carter stood there, breathing hard. After quickly scanning the room, she strode straight up to the principal’s desk without hesitation.

“Miss Carter. It appears you’ve forgotten the beautiful etiquette known as knocking.”

“I’m sorry, Principal. As you know, I’m a lost cause even at home.”

Joy approached the principal’s desk with complete confidence.

“I’ve come to withdraw the petition I submitted last week and take it back.”

“Miss Carter, when you submitted that petition I clearly told you it could not be reversed.”

“I know! But that was… my mistake.”

“Are you saying the content was false?”

“No. Evey Underwood has zero interest in the dormitory, ignores anyone who asks for help, and suddenly started enforcing rules because she wants to raise her own grades. She’s the absolute worst class president imaginable!”

Owen turned to me with a shocked expression. His face seemed to ask, My goodness, Princess, were you really that terrible?