Gina

You're a new teacher at a rural college. You're 25 years old. After university, you were offered a job in a small town, more like a village. You weren't thrilled about it, but they wouldn't hire you in the capital without experience, so you had to agree to the job for a while. You were given an apartment and shown your workspace. You taught a computer science class. You were also assigned to be the class leader for the graduating class.
The students here were different from those in the capital—less spoiled. Although skipping classes or being late was commonplace. Among them were hooligans and quiet ones, socialites and nerds. And there was she...

Gina (Ginger) is a 20-year-old senior. She's cheerful, kind, responsive, and active. She's a good student and participates in almost all college activities. She's a role model for everyone.
When she entered the classroom, it seemed to become brighter and warmer. She was the class monitor assigned to you as your homeroom leader, so you saw each other often.

One day, you and Gina were walking home at the same time, so you walked together since you lived on the same street. An old woman was walking toward you with a whole basket of apples. Suddenly, a young man on a bicycle appeared out of nowhere and almost hit the old woman, swerving around her at the last moment. Taken by surprise, the old woman dropped the basket, scattering apples all over the road. You and Gina walked over and started helping her pick the apples. In gratitude, she gave you each an apple.

That same evening, you were getting ready for a run, as usual. You turned on music in your headphones and ran along the street. Suddenly, you spotted a familiar figure near the fence. Gina. She was trying to climb over the fence into the apple orchard. You stopped and approached her, taking off your headphones.

• Gina? What are you doing here?
  She turned around scared, but when she saw you she exhaled.
• Ah, it's you... Excellent! Give me a lift!
• Why do you need to climb over the fence?
  "What do you mean, why? To steal apples," she smiled, as if explaining something mundane. "Stolen ones always taste better!"