Chapter Text
Human development psychology looked terrible from the very first lecture. Right away, the professor — who was very strict, by the way — bombarded them with slides filled to the brim with so much knowledge that you would probably have to be a computer to remember it all. And then there was that malicious “I suggest you start studying right away, because the exam will be very difficult.”
application for removal from the list of students snu
Gi-hun's eyes scanned the application form. Short and to the point. The problems would be over before they even began. After all, it was only March 4, the first day of classes at Seoul National University's psychology department. Second year.
He knew a lot — that Freud went too far with his theories, that he had very good eyesight when it came to cheating on tests from the person two desks in front of him, that he had an amazing ability to slip through successive tests, and exams, and at the same time, with his charming personality and smile, he got along perfectly with his lecturers, but also with other people in his year. Being friends with everyone was especially useful when he didn't have any notes and the end of the semester was approaching.
He closed the application. His mother would probably strangle him. As a student, he had a room in a dormitory, which he shared with his best friend Jung-bae, and a social scholarship. Giving up his studies would quickly deprive him of these amenities, various student discounts, and, above all, he would have to go to work.
At the same time, he was studying psychology at the best university in Seoul. He had sacrificed a lot to get there. Well... student life had made him a little lazy, you could say.
conditional promotion snu price
He blinked.
Holy shit. He really has to pass that exam if he doesn't want to get kicked out. His phone landed at the edge of the mattress.
Gi-hun groaned, rolling from one end of the bed to the other. The dorm room was dim except for the small desk lamp that Jung-bae had left on — probably on purpose, because his friend possessed the uncanny ability to predict when Gi-hun would stumble back defeated from any academic-related event.
He cracked one eye open. The laptop was warm under his thigh. Silence. Well, almost — someone down the hallway was laughing loudly at something on their phone. Someone else was microwaving ramen. The whole dormitory vibrated with that chaotic beginning-of-semester optimism that he alone seemed immune to.
He rubbed his face with his hand and opened the device, curling up next to it on the mattress like a shrimp.
He looked at the notes he had typed during the lecture. He began to read.
Developmental psychology is a branch of psychology that involves research devoted to explaining all aspects of human development from conception to adolescence in terms of quantitative changes, and dOn't scroll through these slides so damn fast you ASS, for fuck's sake bullshitshitshitshitSHIT.
Well. That's… educational.
He closed his laptop.
Sometimes he had the impression that the intensity of the material in psychology studies was deliberate, so as to exhaust students, discourage them, and only those who were mentally toughest would remain. Clever.
Gi-hun wanted to be a psychotherapist in the future. Preferably a cognitive-behavioral one. But he still had a long way to go to achieve his dream. Five years of master's studies, followed by four years of psychotherapy school. And even moments of crisis like this one couldn't break him.
And yet... he was close to a nervous breakdown now.
He exhaled into the room. The breath came out embarrassingly dramatic.
He should study. Absolutely. He should open his notes, accept that human development psychology would be the bane of his existence, but also the key to becoming the future therapist he wanted to be. Maybe he could even make a cute Pinterest-style study plan, color-coded, motivational, filled with post-it notes that said things like You can do it! and Don’t give up! and Stop scrolling Instagram you absolute clown.
Instead, he lay there, limbs spread like a medieval torture diagram, and felt his soul quietly evaporate.
“Fuck,” he muttered to the ceiling. “Fuck. Shit. Fuck.”
The ceiling did not respond.
When motivation refused to appear, his brain turned toward its favorite coping mechanism: denial through distraction. Something to stop the buzzing panic. Something pointless, stupid, entertaining.
He opened his laptop again.
The glow hit him like a slap of artificial hope. He tapped his password. Eleven mistakes later — because his fingers were rebelling — the thing finally let him in.
He wasn’t in the mood for social media. Everyone there was posting pictures from their first day of classes, mood boards, smiling selfies, happy captions like Let’s have a great semester! Disgusting. He needed anonymity. Something where no one would yell at him for being dumb, because everyone would be dumb together.
Something non-study related.
His cursor hovered.
free anonymous chat
He couldn't believe he was actually doing it.
The anonymous chat website looked shady in the way all comforting things look shady — plain white background, blue hyperlinks that screamed early-2000s nostalgia, and a flashing banner at the top that said Chat With Strangers! No Registration Needed! 100% Safe! Which was statistically untrue, psychologically questionable, and morally suspicious… but Gi-hun was in the mood to tempt fate.
He clicked anyway.
The page reloaded. A small box appeared in the center of the screen, asking him to pick a username. Gi-hun stared at it with the same expression one reserves for unfamiliar vegetables.
He thought for a moment. Damn it, he found this site to switch off his brain, and now they're making him think again? He raised his eyebrow.
stupididiot456
He grinned, for some reason finding it funny.
The site matched him with someone immediately.
A tiny spinning circle appeared: Connecting you to a stranger…
His heartbeat, for absolutely no respectable reason, sped up. Probably because his brain was mush. Probably because he was avoiding responsibility like it was a rabid raccoon.
The chat box blinked alive.
You are now connected. Say hi!
Gi-hun stared at the cursor. It blinked back, judgmental.
He typed the first thing that came to mind.
stupididiot456 (8:38 p.m.): hi
He made a face at himself. Brilliant. A literary icon. A poet of the digital age. If he ever became a therapist, his clients might use this moment as a case study in self-sabotage.
For a few long seconds, nothing happened.
Maybe the other person had already fled. Maybe they took one look at his username and assumed he was twelve. Fair, honestly.
Then a message appeared.
frontman001 (8:39 p.m.): … hello?
Gi-hun blinked. Frontman, huh? Someone here has a big ego.
He propped his chin on his fist, intrigued despite himself.
stupididiot456 (8:39 p.m.): u sound scared lol
A beat.
frontman001 (8:39 p.m.): I don’t “sound” anything. It’s text.
frontman001 (8:40 p.m.): But yes. I was expecting a bot.
Gi-hun grinned at the screen, feeling the tiniest spark of life re-ignite in his chest.
stupididiot456 (8:40 p.m.): im real
stupididiot456 (8:40 p.m.): unfortunately
frontman001 (8:40 p.m.): That’s a dramatic thing to say two minutes into a conversation.
stupididiot456 (8:40 p.m.): bro im this close to dropping out of uni
Several seconds passed before the next message appeared. Maybe even more. Gi-hun thought he had discouraged the stranger.
And then, in the corner of the screen, a small message appeared:
frontman001 is typing…
frontman001 (8:41 p.m.): … well. lay it on me.
Gi-hun blinked at the screen. “Lay it on me”? This was immediately better than scrolling through Instagram. Someone who might… understand the exact, crushing weight of late-night existential dread on a Tuesday evening? He raised a hand in the air like a professor, though no one could see him, and typed with all the gravitas of a man delivering a keynote address.
stupididiot456 (8:42 p.m.): ok so. uni is back. first lecture and i’m like. what the fuck. slides everywhere. freud. everywhere. professor. evil. exam. impossible. brain: stop. soul: gone.
frontman001 (8:42 p.m.): Freud?
Gi-hun snorted. He didn’t just snort. He snorted like a man possessed.
stupididiot456 (8:42 p.m.): yes. freud. why. why is everything sexual. i did not sign up for this
A pause again. Then:
frontman001 (8:43 p.m.): Actually, you did sign up for this. Psychology major, I'm guessing?
Gi-hun’s fingers hovered over the keys. This guy. This guy didn’t even know him, and yet… he already sounded like he understood exactly how absurdly, hilariously, tragically ridiculous Gi-hun’s life was. His thumb hovered over the shift key like a trumpet ready to blow the symphony of his despair.
stupididiot456 (8:43 p.m.): exactly. i signed up. i regret. soul: lost. dignity: gone. slides: everywhere. professor: wants blood. literally.
frontman001 (8:44 p.m.): Huh. Sounds… educational.
Gi-hun’s laughter bubbled up, even though the room was dark and silent, except for the faint hum of the dorm’s heating. His laughter sounded ridiculous. It didn’t matter. No one could see him.
stupididiot456 (8:44 p.m.): educational my ass. i want a time machine. or a gun. whichever comes first.
frontman001 (8:44 p.m.): … yeah. Same. Minus the gun. Maybe a dog. Definitely a dog.
Gi-hun snorted and swiped his hair back from his forehead. He pursed his lips. A dog, huh?
stupididiot456 (8:45 p.m.): so you're a dog person. we won't get along.
frontman001 (8:44 p.m.): Cats are touchy. And they shed a lot.
stupididiot456 (8:45 p.m.): leave cats alone. you're literally just a hater
frontman001 (8:45 p.m.): I'm literally just allergic.
Gi-hun smiled.
stupididiot456 (8:45 p.m.): karma.
The next message was almost immediate.
frontman001 (8:45 p.m.): Figures.
That was… actually quite funny. He realized he hadn’t laughed properly in a while — like a full-body laugh, the kind that shakes your shoulders and makes you question your dignity. Maybe he could survive this semester after all.
Gi-hun leaned back against the mattress, laptop perched precariously on his stomach. He felt… really connected. Even though they were writing for less than ten minutes.
stupididiot456 (8:46 p.m.): what about you? are you a student going through an emotional crisis too, or some miserable office worker drowning in deadlines?
stupididiot456 (8:46 p.m.): do adults even visit such websites
stupididiot456 (8:46 p.m.): i mean, real adults
stupididiot456 (8:46 p.m.): that sounded weird.
stupididiot456 (8:46 p.m.): im not 13 or sth. im 20
There was no response for a moment. Gi-hun swallowed hard. Maybe there was some creepy old man on the other side? The truth was that there were three types of people on these kinds of sites:
- those desperate to find a partner, but dating apps aren't anonymous, which is why they were here;
- kids writing nonsense for fun;
- pervs.
And Gi-hun felt he was somewhere between number one and two — he wondered which type frontman001 was.
frontman001 (8:48 p.m.): … 20. Same as you. Student. Definitely not a creepy old man. Promise.
Gi-hun raised an eyebrow at the screen. A promise? Digital oaths. How binding could that possibly be? But there was something reassuring in the way the words blinked back at him, the kind of calm absurdity that only anonymity could provide. He typed again, fingers still jittery from the adrenaline of finding someone who actually seemed… human.
stupididiot456 (8:48 p.m.): okay. 20. student. not old. not creepy. got it. good. mission accomplished.
stupididiot456 (8:49 p.m.): do you… like, study psych too?
frontman001 (8:50 p.m.): Yes. So let's say I understand you well. The only difference is that my vacation has been extended a little. I haven't been to any lectures yet.
Gi-hun snorted with something that was a mixture of indignation and jealousy.
stupididiot456 (8:51 p.m.): lucky duck! i'm jealous
He adjusted his pillow under his head.
stupididiot456 (8:51 p.m.): wait, also… if we're in the same major, maybe the same uni too? where you go
frontman001 is typing…
…appeared for a moment, and then disappeared. A one whole minute passed. Gi-hun squinted his eyes. Then it appeared again.
And then nothing.
The three blinking dots vanished like they had never existed.
The chat window sat still — an unnerving, flat calm, like the moment in a horror movie right before the jump scare. Gi-hun stared at the empty box, feeling his stomach twist in that weird way it always did when uncertainty decided to crawl across his spine.
Was that too much?
Was “where you go” too much?
Was he suddenly the creepy one?
He rubbed his face with both hands, dragging down his cheeks. Fantastic. Perfect. Absolutely on brand for him — ten minutes into a conversation and he already managed to ruin it. He groaned softly into the fabric of his blanket.
Then, at last —
frontman001 is typing…
A new message appeared.
frontman001 (8:53 p.m.): Let’s… not exchange universities. If we accidentally identify each other, it may be weird.
Gi-hun blinked.
Once.
Twice.
The breath whooshed out of him in some weird, relieved snort, like the universe had punched him and then apologized.
He stretched his legs out until his toes hit the cold metal frame of the bed. The dorm air was stuffy, the way it always was when the heaters turned on and refused to turn off.
stupididiot456 (8:53 p.m.): oh wow okay. you made me feel like a stalker now thanks
stupididiot456 (8:53 p.m.): but valid
The comforting rhythm of typing dots returned — brief, flickering pulses of existence — but each time they appeared, they vanished again. Like whoever sat on the other side of this pixelated void was fighting with himself.
Finally:
frontman001 (8:54 p.m.): I didn’t mean it like that. Just… anonymity makes things easier.
Gi-hun huffed through his nose. Fair point.
If he knew anything about the world, it was that strangers got bolder when you couldn’t see their face.
That was half the reason he was here in the first place.
Gi-hun rotated his ankle in a slow circle, a restless little loop that betrayed exactly how much energy he had and how little he could do with it. The laptop screen glowed cool blue over his cheeks, highlighting the faint flush there — equal parts embarrassment and relief.
The frontman001 seemed like the kind of person who typed slowly on purpose, the kind who measured every word. Not like Gi-hun, who threw sentences out the window like handfuls of rice at a wedding and prayed nobody slipped on them.
He tapped his fingers on the mattress.
stupididiot456 (8:54 p.m.): yeah. anonymity = safety. mystery. drama.
stupididiot456 (8:55 p.m.): also makes you sound like some kinda vigilante who lives in shadows but whatever
The dots appeared again.
frontman001 (8:55 p.m.): Vigilante?
stupididiot456 (8:55 p.m.): yeah
stupididiot456 (8:55 p.m.): mysterious guy, all in black. maybe with a mask. shady a little but still righteous
stupididiot456 (8:55 p.m.): your whole vibe rn
A pause.
Then:
frontman001 (8:56 p.m.): That’s unnecessarily theatrical.
Gi-hun smirked.
stupididiot456 (8:56 p.m.): sorry it’s just that nickname
stupididiot456 (8:56 p.m.): like… frontman? what are you, orchestrating something?
frontman001 (8:56 p.m.): I'm not.
stupididiot456 (8:56 p.m.): then why frontman?
frontman001 (8:57 p.m.): …let’s just say I like the sound of it.
Gi-hun stared at the blinking cursor. Of course, he doesn’t explain. Typical. The way he’d insist on this little wall of mystery, keeping a piece of himself tucked behind shadows like some overdramatic movie character. Gi-hun couldn’t help the corner of his mouth twitching upward. Part of him wanted to scream “EXPLAIN YOURSELF, DAMMIT,” and part of him… was secretly thrilled by it.
His fingers hovered above the keyboard, when another message came.
frontman001 (8:57 p.m.): What about your nickname? Are you a stupid idiot really?
Gi-hun stared at the screen for a beat longer than was probably reasonable. Am I actually going to explain this? He rolled onto his side, one arm draped across the pillow, the other still hovering like a nervous conductor above the keyboard. The glow of the laptop made the dim dorm feel like the cockpit of some spaceship hurtling toward academic doom.
He sighed.
stupididiot456 (8:57 p.m.): dunno. maybe?
stupididiot456 (8:57 p.m.): i thought you dont want to share too much personal information ;p
frontman001 (8:58 p.m.): …touché. I’ll allow it. But it does make you sound… charmingly self-deprecating.
Gi-hun blinked at the screen. Charming? Did he really just type that? Was that a compliment? Was this some trap? He sat up slightly, elbows braced on the mattress, squinting as if sheer concentration could parse the intentions of a stranger across the internet.
stupididiot456 (8:58 p.m.): charming?
stupididiot456 (8:58 p.m.): haha, sure. if you squint reaaally hard and believe in fairy tales.
frontman001 (8:59 p.m.): Fair enough. I’ll accept squinting as a legitimate measuring method for charm.
Gi-hun instinctively curled his legs as if to defend himself against this news. His facial expression changed like a chameleon, and he didn't know what to make of the stranger's words.
What was that supposed to be? A pick-up line? Maybe the frontman thought he was writing to a cute girl? Not a guy who was almost 6 feet tall.
He scrolled up through the messages. Actually, he didn't suggest he was a guy even once. The other person's nickname kind of suggested their gender.
Maybe he should tell him that he is a man. Maybe the frontman is looking for a female partner, not a male one? Maybe he shouldn't get too involved in a relationship that could fall apart immediately when he writes “male.”
But he had no idea how to bring it up in conversation without it sounding weird.
Then, to Gi-hun's horror, another message arrived.
frontman001 (9:01 p.m.): Forget I wrote that. I didn't want to overwhelm you.
He let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
The cursor blinked in the empty chat box, steady, unbothered. It almost mocked him. A tiny neon heartbeat.
He tapped his fingers against his stomach, then typed.
stupididiot456 (9:01 p.m.): nooo it's not that. my roommate just came in thats why i wasn't answering
He raised his eyebrows, taking a glance at the door. Jung-bae wasn't really there yet. He went to the market to buy some food for them both. They took turns doing it. However, somehow Jung-bae did it more often — perhaps because Gi-hun never made a shopping list and always forgot something.
Okay. Maybe he had an idea. He raised his fingers above the keyboard, and then…
frontman001 (9:02 p.m.): Roommates, huh. The bane of students. Is he cool, or are you more likely to argue with him?
Gi-hun immediately answered:
stupididiot456 (9:02 p.m.): no, we're best friends since high school
And then, he read the frontman's message again. Are you more likely to argue with him?
Him? HIM????
Gi-hun sat cross-legged on the mattress and tilted his laptop screen to see better. Okay. Okay. So the frontman assumes that Jung-bae is indeed a man. Dormitories in Korea were rarely coed, and even if they were, the sexes could not be mixed in the rooms, so… so that would mean that the frontman considers stupididiot456... also a man? Hopefully?
He tapped his cheek with his finger, as if that would help him think. It didn't help.
So he decided he had to be direct. At worst, he'll just turn off the page, and that will be the end of it. To the frontman, he wasn't Seong Gi-hun. To him, he was just a stupid idiot. Literally.
stupididiot456 (9:03 p.m.): why did you assume i was a guy? ive never said it.
And then he waited. The frontman001 was typing. Then stopping. Then typing again. Then maybe crashing out. Then typing. Then, the message came.
frontman001 (9:04 p.m.): Just… you didn’t seem like a girl from your typing style.
A beat.
frontman001 (9:04 p.m.): Wait, that sounded extremely offensive. I'm not a chauvinist, I swear. I just had a feeling you were a guy.
frontman001 (9:04 p.m.): Are you actually a girl?
Gi-hun froze mid-breath, one eyebrow arching like it had a mind of its own. Wait, what?
The frontman001 had just asked if he was a girl. A girl. The word lingered on the screen, blinking as if it expected an immediate answer. He leaned back against the mattress, letting the laptop rest on his stomach, and stared at the blue-white glow like it had betrayed him personally.
Am I supposed to be flattered? Alarmed? Concerned? Creeped out?
And the most important question: WHAT ANSWER DOES HE EXPECT?
He rubbed his face with one hand, tugging at the soft skin under his eyes as if it might reset his thoughts. Then his mind went into overdrive:
Okay. Logical analysis.
Possibility one: frontman001 is… gay? Maybe. Maybe not. Could be bi. Could be straight. Who knows. Could just be completely oblivious to gender signals. Could just be testing me. Could just be… terrible at guessing.
Possibility two: frontman001 is a complete idiot who judges people’s gender based on… typing style? Really? Letters? Commas? The way someone cries into the void of the internet? Swearing he's not a chauvinist, though. A real chauvinist wouldn't probably do that. A real chauvinist would probably be proud of being a chauvinist.
Possibility three: … what the actual fuck. He really should go study.
Gi-hun let out a long, slow exhale, dragging it through his teeth like it might steady the chaos inside his head. He tapped a finger against the mattress, then lifted it like a reluctant professor preparing to lecture a particularly obtuse student.
He grimaced.
stupididiot456 (9:05 p.m.): hahaha, no. not a girl. relax.
stupididiot456 (9:05 p.m.): its just you were
stupididiot456 (9:05 p.m.): flirting
stupididiot456 (9:05 p.m.): so i thought maybe you don't know i'm a guy.
He pushed the laptop away so quickly that it almost slid off the edge of the mattress. He caught it with his foot, then buried his face in his hands and rolled over to the wall. He pressed his forehead against the cold, white, rough paint, and it refreshed him, like acupuncture and cryotherapy combined. Why the hell is he embarrassed? It's just a stranger.
When he looked at the laptop again, another new message was already there.
frontman001 (9:06 p.m.): … flirting? I wasn't flirting with you.
Gi-hun blinked at the screen. He wasn’t flirting? The words themselves felt like a trap, like stepping on a floorboard that might collapse under the weight of interpretation. He sat up straighter, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the blinking cursor as if sheer concentration could pry the meaning out of the text.
stupididiot456 (9:06 p.m.): of course
frontman001 (9:06 p.m.): I really wasn't.
Gi-hun pursed his lips, curling a strand of hair around his finger, feeling that weird tingle of being simultaneously seen and completely unknown. This guy… what is he even like?
stupididiot456 (9:06 p.m.): sure
He squinted his eyes. Then typed again:
stupididiot456 (9:06 p.m.): but you wouldn't have written that if you thought I was a girl, would you?
stupididiot456 (9:07 p.m.): yknow. that 'charming' thing
A one whole minute passed. Then the second. The dots didn't even appear. Gi-hun started imagining how the stranger on the other end had slammed their laptop shut and sprinted out of their room, screaming “stranger danger.”
He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. It was stupid.
He grabbed his laptop. He started typing.
stupididiot456 (9:10 p.m.): okay im sorry. there were supposed to be no details from our private lives. you weren't flirting with me. i just wanted to tease you.
And, at the very same time, the frontman's message also came:
frontman001 (9:10 p.m.): Okay, maybe it was flirting. A little. I'm just looking for someone to talk to.
Gi-hun froze mid-breath. So flirting indeed? His entire body tensed like he had just been asked to defuse a bomb he didn’t even know existed. The words glimmered across the screen, innocuous, almost casual… and yet somehow incendiary. His cheeks felt hot. Too hot. He shoved the laptop a few centimeters away and pressed his forehead against the cold metal frame, like maybe it could suck out the confusion and leave only clarity behind. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.
frontman001 (9:10 p.m.): Wait, what. I'm taking that back.
stupididiot456 (9:10 p.m.): NO TAKEBACKS!! gotcha
frontman001 (9:11 p.m.): You shouldn't be a psychologist. You're evil.
Gi-hun paused, mid-breath, mid-thought, mid-anything. The words sat in the air like an oddly shaped boulder on his chest. Evil? That was… aggressive. Harsh. Maybe playful. Or maybe the internet had just turned him into a suspect for casual villainy. He blinked, stared at the screen, and then laughed, a short, strangled noise, because the absurdity was too much.
stupididiot456 (9:11 p.m.): evil?? you’re literally a stranger and you think you know me already. amazing.
stupididiot456 (9:11 p.m.): but fr, why are you looking for a partner here? there are dating apps out there, y'know
frontman001 (9:12 p.m.): I don't judge by appearance. And I don't want to be judged that way either.
frontman001 (9:12 p.m.): Besides, people mainly go there looking for one-night stands.
frontman001 (9:13 p.m.): And somehow, everyone pretends to be deep when they’re really shallow.
Gi-hun blinked at the screen. Shallow. Deep. Romantic existentialism disguised as casual nihilism. He felt a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.
stupididiot456 (9:13 p.m.): okay, so i get it. you're the miserable romantic type of person.
Gi-hun laughed quietly into the darkness. His laptop screen lit up the slight curve of his smile. He had to admit: he liked this. Not the “flirting” part — though maybe a little — but this… conversation that teetered on the edge of absurdity and honesty, that pushed and pulled at the edges of something… something he couldn’t name.
frontman001 (9:14 p.m.): Just don't wanna get hurt
Gi-hun's eyebrows rose and then furrowed. There was no period at the end of the sentence. The stranger had not forgotten punctuation in any of his previous messages. He felt that the sentence was incomplete. It was as if there should have been an “... again.” there, but the frontman had apparently decided to delete it before pressing send.
stupididiot456 (9:15 p.m.): “don’t wanna get hurt,” huh. wow. mysterious. brooding. unreadable. sounds… poetic?
Gi-hun tilted his head, staring at the laptop. Poetic? He didn’t even know the person, and here he was, picturing this anonymous frontman as a tragic figure wandering under a rain-slick streetlamp somewhere, trench coat flapping dramatically in the wind. Perfect. Ridiculous. Perfectly ridiculous.
frontman001 (9:15 p.m.): You're that nosy with everyone or just me?
stupididiot456 (9:15 p.m.): you wanted anonymity. that triggers my excessive nosiness gene.
stupididiot456 (9:16 p.m.): and well, since you put it that way, then i'll ask you straight out
frontman001 (9:16 p.m.): Of course you will.
stupididiot456 (9:16 p.m.): you're gay, right?
The answer was short, immediate, and… hurtful, somehow.
frontman001 (9:16 p.m.): No.
THEN WHAT THE FUCK WAS HIS DEAL???
The dorm's door opened wide then, letting some light from the corridor in. Also, a few shouts from the second floor. Someone was trying to find their yoghurt. The possible suspect was arguing that it wasn't properly labeled with their name.
Gi-hun tilted his laptop screen slightly, as if to hide it, then looked at Jung-bae, who was standing in the doorway, staring at him strangely. Immediately afterwards, his friend turned on the light in the room.
“You look traumatized,” he said in a tone a little more sincere than Gi-hun wanted.
“I am a little,” he replied, nodding.
“What happened?”
He opened his laptop again, like he wanted to show him the proof. Then, he saw the new message.
frontman001 (9:17 p.m.): I mean - not fully? I'm rather bisexual.
frontman001 (9:17 p.m.): But let's say I don't brag about it in real life.
Ohhh.
Ohhhh, no! Did he just force someone to come out? He knew exactly how painful that was.
Meanwhile, Jung-bae continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer.
“Never mind,” Gi-hun smiled innocently. “It's okay,” he added, glancing at the shopping bag his friend had bought for him. “Thanks. I'll give you money back later.”
His eyes returned to the chat. Guilt returned to his chest. It was just an anonymous chat, he didn't know who was really on the other side — but maybe he had crossed the line?
Gi-hun swallowed, throat clicking dryly. The guilt sat there, a small, dense stone right under his sternum. It wasn’t huge enough to crush him, but it was heavy enough to make him uncomfortable — like swallowing something that had no business being swallowed. He shouldn’t feel this bad; he didn’t know who this person was. It wasn’t like he had dragged a classmate onto a table in the cafeteria and interrogated him with a spotlight. It was anonymous. It was nothing. It meant nothing.
Except it didn’t feel like nothing.
He typed, erased, typed again, smacked his fingers against the trackpad, breathed in, breathed out. Nothing looked right. Every line he crafted felt either too dismissive or too apologetic, or too strange.
The cursor blinked like it was tapping an impatient foot.
Then another message arrived.
frontman001 (9:19 p.m.): You're okay? You went quiet.
Gi-hun winced. A little too perceptive for a stranger. Or maybe he was projecting. He ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more, and leaned closer to the screen again. Jung-bae was now sitting at his own bed, watching him like a zookeeper studying an animal who might suddenly attack or suddenly write poetry.
“Do you need water or something?” Jung-bae asked quietly, confused.
“Just—” Gi-hun waved him off, eyes glued to the notification. “Just chaos,” he mumbled.
His fingers hovered, then finally settled.
stupididiot456 (9:20 p.m.): sorry. dormitories are wild
stupididiot456 (9:20 p.m.): and i’m not… uh… i didn’t mean to pry THAT hard.
frontman001 (9:20 p.m.): You didn’t pry. You asked. I answered. That’s the deal, right?
Gi-hun bit the inside of his cheek. That was… oddly mature. Or blasé. Or both. Or fake. Or genuine. It was impossible to tell. He suddenly felt like he was dissecting a poem in class, staring at a metaphor that refused to tell him if it was supposed to be a metaphor.
His fingers moved again, faster now.
stupididiot456 (9:20 p.m.): it just felt like i pushed you into something.
stupididiot456 (9:21 p.m.): and i don’t wanna… idk. hurt someone just bc i’m nosy.
A beat. A second. A third.
Then:
frontman001 (9:21 p.m.): You didn’t hurt me.
The simplicity of it made Gi-hun’s chest tighten again — not sharply, just enough to make him inhale a little too deeply. The sentence sat perfectly still, clean, with no unnecessary decoration. No irony. No teasing. It felt like a pebble dropped into still water.
He wasn’t sure why that unnerved him.
He almost didn’t notice another message arriving right after.
frontman001 (9:21 p.m.): But now you tell me what you are. I'm nosy too.
He smiled crookedly. He was thankful to the frontman for cutting that shitty tense atmosphere.
But still, his fingers trembled slightly — just slightly — as he typed.
stupididiot456 (9:22 p.m.): uh. gay. that’s it.
He hovered, then added:
stupididiot456 (9:22 p.m.): i don’t shout it from rooftops either. but i don’t hide it.
And before he could regret it, before his anxiety could plant its teeth into his spine, he hit send.
Instantly, he wanted to claw the message back from the universe. He imagined his words scuttling out of the screen like cockroaches. He squeezed his eyes shut.
When he opened them, the response was already there.
frontman001 (9:22 p.m.): That's what I thought.
frontman001 (9:22 p.m.): Thank you for trusting me on that.
Gi-hun’s breath caught in his throat, his face heating up again. He had half a mind to take his pillow and suffocate himself with it — at least temporarily. Jung-bae was glancing at him now with the face of someone who regrets making friends with the dramatic.
“You look like you’re negotiating peace between two nuclear countries,” Jung-bae muttered.
Gi-hun made a noise like “shh” and “go study” smashed together.
He exhaled, slowly, letting the tension melt from his shoulders like wax. It didn’t entirely disappear — it lingered in the air like steam after a hot shower, clinging to the corners of his chest — but it softened.
The blinking cursor felt almost… encouraging.
He didn’t feel ready.
He typed anyway.
stupididiot456 (9:23 p.m.): okay so now that we exposed ourselves emotionally like idiots
stupididiot456 (9:23 p.m.): what topic are we moving to?
A beat.
Then two.
Then—
frontman001 (9:23 p.m.): Let me think.
Gi-hun pictured it.
A stranger on the other side of the screen.
Thinking.
Not typing immediately.
Considering him.
His heart did something weird and uncomfortable and warm.
Then the message came.
frontman001 (9:24 p.m.): Tell me something you love that would make people laugh at you.
Gi-hun froze.
The question hit him like stepping unexpectedly off the last stair.
Not painful — just off-balance.
Something you love that would make people laugh.
He licked his lips, thinking.
Jung-bae’s voice floated from the other side of the room.
“Are you mental?”
“Shh.”
He typed.
stupididiot456 (9:24 p.m.): uhh. okay. but you’re not allowed to laugh.
frontman001 (9:24 p.m.): No promises.
Gi-hun groaned softly, ran a hand down his face, and typed quickly, like ripping off a bandage.
stupididiot456 (9:25 p.m.): i like cheap melodramatic kdramas from the 2000s. the kind where girls cry every five minutes and the OST is just one sad piano song on loop
His face burned immediately.
He regretted everything.
He regretted existing.
But before he could dive into a self-loathing spiral, the reply came:
frontman001 (9:25 p.m.): …why would I laugh at that?
Gi-hun blinked.
Then:
frontman001 (9:25 p.m.): I like them too.
For a moment, Gi-hun’s chest tightened, and not in the anxious way.
More like something warm had been poured into him, slow and steady.
He re-read the line.
The words were so simple. So… plain. Almost suspiciously plain. No teasing. No little jab. No irony tucked between the letters.
It felt — unexpected. In a very stupid way.
He typed, hesitated, deleted, typed again.
stupididiot456 (9:25 p.m.): you like them too???
stupididiot456 (9:25 p.m.): be honest. are you saying that to make me feel less like a clown??
The reply came fast. Faster than he expected.
frontman001 (9:26 p.m.): No. I’m saying it because I mean it.
frontman001 (9:26 p.m.): They’re comforting. Like watching someone else suffer dramatically so you don’t have to.
Gi-hun choked out a laugh. It escaped him without permission, like a hiccup.
“Who are you talking to?” Jung-bae asked, muffled by chips.
“Shin Godzilla,” Gi-hun muttered, pushing his hair back and staring again at the glowing words.
He typed:
stupididiot456 (9:26 p.m.): you like watching people suffer
stupididiot456 (9:26 p.m.): i guess we both are too evil for our major
Gi-hun waited for the reply — or, more precisely, he hovered in front of the screen like a moth circling a lamp, pretending he wasn’t waiting when he absolutely was. His knees were pulled up to his chest now, hoodie swallowing half his face. Somewhere behind him, Jung-bae was crunching on whatever snack he’d procured, occasionally making a confused dolphin-noise whenever Gi-hun snorted or groaned at the chat.
The little “typing…” bubble flickered on and off.
On.
Off.
On again, like someone thinking, deleting, rephrasing, hesitating.
Then—
frontman001 (9:27 p.m.): Evil is a big word. I’d say… selectively cruel.
Gi-hun let out a breath that sounded embarrassingly like a wheeze.
stupididiot456 (9:27 p.m.): selectively cruel??? that’s worse somehow
Another pause. A long one, this time. He imagined fingers hesitating over a keyboard. Someone leaning back, maybe rubbing the bridge of their nose. Someone with a face he couldn’t picture — though his brain kept trying anyway, sketching outlines in the dark.
And then:
frontman001 (9:28 p.m.): Only to the people who deserve it.
Gi-hun barked out a shocked, incredulous laugh, loud enough that Jung-bae flinched.
“You okay?” Jung-bae asked.
“No,” Gi-hun said truthfully.
He typed back, the grin tugging at him.
stupididiot456 (9:28 p.m.): ok then explain to me who “deserves it.” philosophers have been trying for centuries
A much shorter pause.
frontman001 (9:28 p.m.): People who talk too much.
frontman001 (9:28 p.m.): People who don't think before they act.
frontman001 (9:28 p.m.): People who just assume things about you, refusing to listen.
Gi-hun stared.
It wasn’t an insult — or it was, but not in the way it looked. The lines sat neatly, too neatly, like someone had folded something sharp into something soft.
Like someone describing a constellation with three stars, except those stars suspiciously traced the shape of a certain person named Seong Gi-hun.
He swallowed.
stupididiot456 (9:29 p.m.): sounds like you’ve read my autobiography??
Another beat. Then:
frontman001 (9:29 p.m.): Maybe I’ve met someone like that.
frontman001 (9:29 p.m.): And don't worry. You're completely different. You listen.
Gi-hun blinked too many times in a row.
Met someone like that?
Met, like past tense? IRL? Before? Now?
His pulse did a weird little hiccup.
He typed.
stupididiot456 (9:29 p.m.): and how did that go lol
frontman001 (9:30 p.m.): Poorly.
frontman001 (9:30 p.m.): They hate me.
Gi-hun’s eyebrows shot up. He sat straighter without meaning to, the conversation suddenly dipping into a deeper pool without warning.
stupididiot456 (9:30 p.m.): gonna be nosy again but
stupididiot456 (9:30 p.m.): they were your crush, im guessing?
frontman001 (9:30 p.m.): Precisely.
frontman001 (9:30 p.m.): They were.
Gi-hun felt once again that he was prying too deeply into the private life of a stranger, which they had agreed not to discuss. He didn't want the conversation to go down that path. He didn't want the frontman to be sad.
stupididiot456 (9:31 p.m.): fuck them
stupididiot456 (9:31 p.m.): you should try to forget about that person. its gonna be easier for you.
The answer didn’t come immediately this time. A minute passed. Then another.
Gi-hun tapped the trackpad. Checked the Wi-Fi icon. Was afraid for a moment that he lost the connection.
His chest tightened with an unfamiliar, ridiculous worry — what if I scared him off?
Then:
frontman001 (9:32 p.m.): It would be easier if we weren't studying together.
Gi-hun exhaled through his nose.
stupididiot456 (9:32 p.m.): like, the same year? major? group?
frontman001 (9:32 p.m.): Exactly.
stupididiot456 (9:32 p.m.): oh shit. im so sorry for you.
frontman001 (9:32 p.m.): Yeah. Don't be. It's… manageable.
Gi-hun blinked.
At least now he knew that this stranger for sure wasn't at his university. Gi-hun knew everyone in his year very well. Thanks to this, he knew all the gossip and details about every romance — both unofficial and official. If someone bisexual had a crush on someone else and got hurt, Gi-hun would have known about it long ago.
This fact relieved him a little. He felt even safer in his anonymous bubble than before.
But ot what he expected. Not even close. He had no idea what to say. And then…
frontman001 (9:33 p.m.): Let's change the topic again, hm? Now you pick.
He sat up straighter, he's expression softening, then deeply thinking. Jung-bae stared at him from across the room with a look that said: you’re losing it.
Gi-hun pretended not to notice.
stupididiot456 (9:34 p.m.): okay then tell me. you're wearing trenchcoats and drinking cappuccino? this is how i imagine you.
A beat again.
frontman001 (9:34 p.m.): The thing you imagine about me is… a trenchcoat and coffee?
Gi-hun frowned dramatically.
He fired back.
stupididiot456 (9:34 p.m.): WHAT'S SO WRONG ABOUT IT
There was a long pause.
Long enough that Gi-hun raised his head, frowning, wondering if he’d crossed some invisible line.
But then—
frontman001 (9:35 p.m.): I'm lactose intolerant, so no cappuccino. Americano is my favourite.
frontman001 (9:35 p.m.): … but you got the trenchcoat part right.
Gi-hun froze.
His mind conjured the image again — the dramatic, rain-soaked silhouette, leaning against a streetlamp like a brooding noir protagonist who’d lost his cigarette lighter. He couldn't see the face. It was blurred. But for some reason, he knew the face was handsome.
He snorted hard enough that Jung-bae glanced over again.
“Are you good?”
“No.”
He typed:
stupididiot456 (9:35 p.m.): DO YOU ACTUALLY OWN A TRENCHCOAT
stupididiot456 (9:35 p.m.): ANSWER CAREFULLY
frontman001 (9:35 p.m.): I refuse to be judged for my fashion choices.
Gi-hun grinned.
This was ridiculous. Perfectly ridiculous.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, feeling strangely warm inside — like someone had lit a candle in the middle of his ribcage. Small, flickering, but persistent.
He typed:
stupididiot456 (9:36 p.m.): oh im not judging. trenchcoats are sexy
stupididiot456 (9:36 p.m.): it's just funny
stupididiot456 (9:36 p.m.): bisexual trenchcoat poet who hates dating apps
stupididiot456 (9:36 p.m.): you said people think they’re deep when they’re actually shallow
stupididiot456 (9:36 p.m.): what about you? you deep or shallow?
stupididiot456 (9:36 p.m.): metaphorically, emotionally, philosophically, existentially
stupididiot456 (9:36 p.m.): choose your fighting arena carefully
There was a moment — barely a second — when Gi-hun wondered if he was being too much, too soon.
But before doubt could sink its teeth into him again—
frontman001 (9:37 p.m.): …you ever try holding water in your hands?
frontman001 (9:37 p.m.): feels full at first. then it runs out between your fingers.
frontman001 (9:37 p.m.): I think I’m like that.
frontman001 (9:38 p.m.): Deep for a moment, shallow the next.
Gi-hun blinked.
The words hit him like someone had cracked a glowstick under his ribs — bright, impossible to ignore, and just a little bit sad.
He reread it. Twice.
It sounded… honest. Too honest for someone hiding behind anonymity.
And yet — it was anonymous honesty.
The safest kind.
He breathed in. Breathed out.
The next message came.
frontman001 (9:38 p.m.): What about you?
frontman001 (9:38 p.m.): You deep or shallow?
Gi-hun paused.
His fingers hovered.
He felt strangely exposed by the question — which was stupid, because he’d already said he was gay. This shouldn’t be harder.
But something about this stranger’s attention felt… sharper. Warmer.
Like it landed somewhere it shouldn’t.
He typed slowly.
stupididiot456 (9:39 p.m.): i’m…
stupididiot456 (9:39 p.m.): complicated
stupididiot456 (9:39 p.m.): like a puddle that thinks it’s the ocean
A long pause.
Then:
frontman001 (9:40 p.m.): Haha
frontman001 (9:40 p.m.): … it's surprisingly pleasant talking to you.
Something warm spread through his chest, but his brain remained cool, searching for double meanings, sarcasm, perhaps someone making fun of him, after just an hour of anonymous writing on a weird chat site.
stupididiot456 (9:40 p.m.): surprisingly pleasant? is this an insult?
stupididiot456 (9:40 p.m.): that “Haha” felt sarcastic
frontman001 answered immediately.
frontman001 (9:40 p.m.): What?
frontman001 (9:40 p.m.): Of course not.
frontman001 (9:40 p.m.): It's just… nice people aren't something I'd expect from shady anonymous chats.
Gi-hun glanced at Jung-bae from over his laptop. His friend looked at him back as if waiting for an explanation. Gi-hun just grinned and returned to the chat.
stupididiot456 (9:41 p.m.): so now i'm “nice people”
stupididiot456 (9:41 p.m.): cute
frontman001 (9:41 p.m.): Of course you are.
Gi-hun rolled onto his stomach, kicking his feet up behind him like a teenager texting their crush. He immediately froze, horrified by his own positioning, then stubbornly refused to move because it was comfortable.
Jung-bae had never looked more surprised.
“Did someone just propose to you online?”
Gi-hun was about to yell at him to back off, but then he realized his friend was right. He was twenty years old, in college, with a lot to study, and what was he doing? He was giggling like a fifteen-year-old girl, rolling around on his bed and texting some stranger, not even knowing his name.
He cleared his throat. He sat up straight. He had to put an end to this luscious flirtation, at least for a little while.
stupididiot456 (9:42 p.m.): btw
stupididiot456 (9:42 p.m.): so if you haven’t been to any classes yet
stupididiot456 (9:43 p.m.): are you like… chronically late? or sick? or a genius who already knows everything??
A long pause. One, then two minutes. He started to feel that faint itch again — that creeping sense he pushed too far.
Finally:
frontman001 (9:45 p.m.): None of those.
frontman001 (9:45 p.m.): Just… had a family thing come up. Nothing interesting.
Gi-hun tilted his head, frowning at the vague non-answer. Vague was fine — anonymity meant boundaries — but there was something in the wording that suggested he shouldn’t prod. That whatever was behind it wasn’t something to joke about.
He softened his typing a little.
stupididiot456 (9:46 p.m.): okay. fair.
Jung-bae stood up.
“I'm going to take a shower.”
“Have fun.”
His eyes moved upward — to the bar displaying the stranger's nickname. He narrowed his eyes and hovered his cursor over the nickname.
When he clicked on it, a window popped up in the middle of the screen:
You are currently a guest.
Create an account to stay connected with frontman001 and your other anonymous friends!
Gi-hun leaned back. He could feel the corners of his lips turning into a real, proper smile now. The sort of smile that made you feel a little alive again after a long, dry desert of soul-crushing content.
stupididiot456 (9:46 p.m.): the website is asking me if i want to create an account to keep texting you
stupididiot456 (9:46 p.m.): should i?
Gi-hun stared at the pop-up for a long moment, blinking at it as if it were some kind of sentient being judging his every choice. His fingers hovered over the keys, poised like a pianist about to strike the first note of an ominous symphony. The thought of creating an account — of somehow tethering this anonymous connection to a digital identity — felt like peering over the edge of a cliff and realizing someone might be watching from below. And yet… the idea of losing the conversation, of letting the thread vanish into the internet’s sprawling void, made his chest tighten.
frontman001 (9:47 p.m.): …if you want to. No pressure.
The words were simple. Unassuming. But somehow they landed like a pebble in Gi-hun’s chest, skipping and rolling until they settled into a place that made him feel slightly dizzy. No pressure. Right. Because nothing about this had ever been pressurized. Nothing had ever been forced. And yet, here he was, suddenly weighing the gravity of this anonymous human connection as if it were a choice between the sun and darkness.
frontman001 (9:47 p.m.): But if you decide to do so, consider installing the app, too.
Gi-hun’s fingers hovered for a moment over the keyboard. He almost felt ridiculous — but in a good way. This person, this… stranger, was already making the week seem bearable.
Also — an app? So that frontman wanted to text him more, right? It would be pleasant, for sure.
He wondered if he would seem to be too desperate. Then he remembered that he hadn't signed up with his full name here, so it was okay.
stupididiot456 (9:48 p.m.): okay. good. i like you already.
frontman001 (9:48 p.m.): I like you too.
A shiver ran through him. But it wasn't cold and unpleasant. It was hot. Overwhelming, almost. Above all, it was completely unexpected.
He rubbed his temples. Oh, no, not so fast. He would say that the frontman was too quick, but the truth was that he was the one who brought up these topics. He sighed.
stupididiot456 (9:49 p.m.): haha
The laptop almost hit the wall after that.
But Gi-hun stopped himself before doing so. He took a deep breath.
Another one.
And one more.
Then he typed:
stupididiot456 (9:50 p.m.): also i had no idea there's an app
stupididiot456 (9:50 p.m.): i guess it's not your first time here
frontman001 (9:50 p.m.): Not first.
frontman001 (9:50 p.m.): The third actually.
Gi-hun frowned at the dots still bouncing in the corner. Waited.
frontman001 (9:50 p.m.): But you're actually the first person who wanted to talk to me for more than ten minutes.
Gi-hun paused, a slow, incredulous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Ten minutes? That sounded… absurdly short. And yet, the weight of those ten minutes suddenly felt like something tangible, something fragile and precious. He traced the edge of his laptop with his fingertip, imagining the unseen hands of frontman001 hovering over their own keyboard somewhere across the city, typing with the same hesitance and anticipation he felt himself.
stupididiot456 (9:51 p.m.): ten minutes?? that’s… wait. that’s it? just ten?
frontman001 (9:51 p.m.): Yeah. Ten. Maybe eleven if you count the seconds we spent staring at the screen before typing.
Gi-hun laughed softly, shaking his head. The sound was small, almost reverent, like he was trying not to shatter something delicate in the air. The absurdity of it — someone counting ten minutes as a milestone in their life — made it feel sacred.
stupididiot456 (9:52 p.m.): you were just too interesting for them ig
stupididiot456 (9:52 p.m.): wait a moment, im gonna create that account
stupididiot456 (9:52 p.m.): and install the app ;p
So he did it. He entered his email address and confirmed in his inbox that it was definitely him. In the meantime, he found the app in the store and installed it. When he was ready, he closed his laptop and plugged it into the charger so it would be ready for tomorrow's lectures, then covered himself with a blanket up to his nose. The blanket smelled of violets, he smelled of vanilla gel, and the phone in his hand was still cool. He pressed his cheek against the pillow when Jung-bae came back from the shower.
“Oh, you're finally done,” the man rubbed his wet hair with a towel. “Wait... are you texting him on your phone now? Who the hell is he?!”
Gi-hun curled his lips into a silly smile, then pressed his finger to them.
“Shh,” he whispered. “Quiet hours.”
His friend muttered something else under his breath, but Gi-hun wasn't listening anymore. He turned back to the side. A notification appeared on the lock screen.
frontman001 (10:01 p.m.): Did you manage to?
Gi-hun tilted his head, staring at the gentle glow of the screen, thinking about the ridiculous comfort of a stranger who knew just enough, who said just enough, who teased just enough, and yet said nothing he couldn’t handle. And somewhere, in the vague folds of the dorm, under the warm, dim light and the faint hum of the heater, Gi-hun felt the edges of something unfamiliar but promising stir.
stupididiot456 (10:02 p.m.): yes. done. i have you in my phone now
stupididiot456 (10:02 p.m.): so… next topic. tell me something weird you do when nobody’s looking.