Ch. Ch 3 She is the moonlight Ch 3

3 

No words? What did it mean, no words? 

It was a total success, okay? 

When I snuck into the male lead Asher’s classroom that night, the sandwich was gone. 

In its place was a clean, crumb–free “Miller’s Crepes” paper bag, neatly folded and tucked into the corner of the desk. 

Looks like it suited his tastes just fine. He couldn’t even bear to throw away the wrapper. 

My confidence soared. 

The next day’s breakfast was even more extravagant. I squeezed a few extra pieces of fried chicken between the two slices of bread. And of course, you need something to drink so you don’t choke. I secretly filched a bottle of premium yogurt from a gift box 

my mom was saving. 

A week later, the collection of paper bags in the desk grew. Even the yogurt bottles were rinsed clean and lined up beside them. 

This was a collection, right? 

My heart leaped with joy. It seemed Asher had not only fallen in love with my sandwiches but, by extension, had fallen for me too. He must be desperately trying to figure out who was leaving them so he could confess his feelings to his beautiful, kind benefactr 

ess. 

Cinderella had her glass slipper; I, Holly Miller, had my crepe–style sandwich. 

So, the next morning, I deliberately delivered it a little late. 

As expected, there was someone in Asher’s classroom. A boy, far too thin, was wearing a black baseball cap and quietly cleaning 

the room. 

Not the male lead. Asher wasn’t that tall. 

But that was fine. As long as someone saw me, a witness, they would surely tell Asher who his “beautiful and kind” crepe girl was. 

So I deliberately, in front of him, pretended to be shy as I placed the bag in Asher’s desk. To make sure he knew who I was, even let my student ID card slip from my pocket and fall to the floor. 

Then, without a second glance, I turned and ran. 

I hadn’t gotten two steps before a light breeze brushed past me. 

The next second, my wrist was seized in a firm grip. A searing heat radiated from his palm. 

1 had no choice but to stop. 

I turned around. 

And finally saw the face under the brim of the cap. 

His skin was so pale it was almost translucent. His bangs were so long they looked like they hadn’t been cut in three months, mes- 

sily shielding his eyes when he looked down. All I could see was a sharp, slender jawline. It made him look gloomy and strange. 

The boy, however, seemed to realize something and snatched his hand back as if he’d been electrocuted. 

He lowered his gaze, avoiding my eyes, his voice a whisper. “Um… miss, you dropped your card.” 

I cursed him silently for a fool, but I smiled as I took the card. “Oh, thank you.” 

The boy seemed stunned that I had smiled at him. “You’re… you’re welcome.” He looked down again, his hands at his sides clenchi- 

ng and unclenching. Finally, as if summoning all his courage, he looked up. “Um, you…” 

But by the time he spoke, I was already gone. 

All that remained on the floor was the student ID card of the “Crepe–Brand Cinderella.”