Chapter Text
Gi-hun stood at the entrance of the campus, feeling his brain overheating from the influx of information he was trying to absorb. Before him stretched a massive university campus: well-kept paths, futuristic buildings, and students strolling with expressions as if they were the main characters in a drama.
— Wow, — he muttered, pulling out his phone to check the map. The screen flickered and went dark.
— …No. Not this.
He shook the phone, hoping the battery would miraculously revive. It didn’t. Gi-hun slowly exhaled, feeling his soul leave his body.
— Okay, no panic. I’ll just… just ask for directions.
With that thought, he looked around and realized that everyone was either rushing, busy chatting, or looked so intimidatingly smart that he was afraid to approach them.
— Alright, I’ll figure it out myself.
Shoving the phone into his pocket, he stepped forward decisively… and within three minutes, he was completely lost.
After fifteen minutes of aimless wandering, Gi-hun found himself in front of a massive building with columns. A sign at the entrance had something written in Latin, but he was too stunned to try deciphering it.
— Maybe this is the library? — he muttered. — Or the cafeteria?
Cautiously climbing the stairs, he flung open the door and stepped inside.
Before him lay a huge, lavishly furnished hall. People in expensive suits sat at a long table, some flipping through papers, others chatting. At the center, in all his majestic severity, sat a man with a piercing gaze.
Gi-hun blinked.
— This… this is definitely not the cafeteria.
Everyone in the hall stared at him. Gi-hun swallowed hard.
— Excuse me… is this the rector's office?
— No, this is the meeting room, — a voice from behind said, barely containing amusement. — Are you planning to run for office?
Gi-hun turned sharply and saw a guy his age. Dark hair and an expression that одновременно said, "I’m curious about what you’ll do next" and "I’m already disappointed."
— I… um…
The guy snorted, grabbed Gi-hун by the hood, and dragged him back to the door.
— Come on, idiot, before they throw you out officially.
They stepped outside, and Gi-hun could finally breathe нормально.
— What was that? — he asked as his heart stopped racing.
— An administration meeting, — the guy replied, crossing his arms. — Good job, you barged in there like you were demanding a retake.
Gi-hun covered his face with his hands.
— God… am I already expelled?
— Not yet. But let’s not tempt fate again, — the stranger smirked. — You’re new, right?
— Uh-huh.
— Well, no surprise there. Only a newbie would walk into a meeting room thinking they were handing out student IDs.
Gi-hun exhaled irritably.
— And who are you anyway?
— Jong-bae.
— Jong-bae… hey, thanks for saving me. I almost saw my academic career in a coffin.
— No problem. So, where do you need to go?
Gi-hун pulled a paper with his schedule from his pocket.
— Well, I need to register, get a pass… and also find the dormitory.
Jong-bae looked at him, then at the paper, then back at him.
— Did you even double-check everything before enrolling?
Gi-hun coughed.
— Well… I… um…
— Got it. Alright, let’s go.
It turned out the college was even bigger than Gi-hун had thought. Every corner of the place looked like it had come out of an elite brochure.
— Wow, — he exclaimed as they passed a fountain that was bigger than his entire apartment.
— Do you like it?
— I thought only millionaires studied here.
— Well… mostly, yeah, — Jong-bae shrugged.
Gi-hun turned to him with wide eyes.
— Seriously?!
Jong-bae smirked.
— Yeah. But you’re here too, so congratulations.
— Damn… Where’s the section for ordinary mortals?
— You’re standing in it.
Gi-hун sighed.
— Wonderful.
A few days later, he began to settle in. He got to know his campus neighbors, learned to navigate around, and even found his classroom without any outside help (only on the second try).
But what impressed him the most were the people. For instance, Sae-byeok — a girl who had transferred here just like him. She kept to herself, but to Gi-hun’s surprise, they quickly became friends when he accidentally saved her from a spilled cup of coffee from above.
— Thanks, — she said, shaking her sleeve.
— No problem. Coffee is a treacherous thing.
She looked at him appraisingly.
— You’re kind of strange.
— Compliment accepted.
She snorted, but since then, they occasionally crossed paths in the cafeteria.
Then there was Ali, who worked at a nearby café.
— You’re a thousand short, — the cashier informed Gi-hun as he tried to pay for lunch.
Gi-hун was already preparing to suffer when a guy passing by with a wide smile slipped a missing bill onto the counter.
— Take it, — he said.
— What? Hey, no, wait, I’ll pay you back!
— It’s all good! Enjoy your meal!
That’s how Gi-hун found someone he now owed a debt of gratitude.
And of course, there was San-woo.
— Did you forget about the essay again?
— Is that a rhetorical question?
San-woo closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
— You’re a nightmare for all teachers.
— Well, not all of them. Only the ones I study under.
— That doesn’t make the situation better.
Gi-hун smirked.
— We complement each other perfectly!
— I’m afraid it’s the other way around.
That was how his first week went. He was still confused, still struggling to believe he was studying here, but… he already had friends.
And maybe college wasn’t as scary as he thought.
Then he saw him.
The first lecture on Monday. Gi-hun felt, to put it mildly, unprepared.
— Why do classes start so early? — he groaned, burying his face in the desk.
— Because students need to learn, — Jong-bae replied, sipping coffee.
— It’s a cruel system.
— Try not to fail the test, and then you can criticize it.
Gi-hун mumbled something but still sat up and looked around. The classroom was already filling up: some were flipping through notes, some were animatedly debating something, some were sleeping like professionals.
And then the door opened.
Everyone went silent all at once. Gi-hун involuntarily turned his head and…
Slow motion.
Wind. Music. Flashes of light.
In the doorway stood a tall guy. Black hair, perfectly styled. A white shirt, neatly tucked in. A gaze that could freeze the ocean.
— Gi-hун, are you okay? — he heard Jong-bae’s voice, but couldn’t even respond.
This was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
Damn, I’m in love.
He didn’t even immediately notice how the new student walked to his seat and sat down, calmly laying out his notes in front of him.
Gi-hун, still in shock, slowly turned to Jong-bae.
— Who is this?..
Jong-bae smirked.
— Hwang In-ho.
— I think I’m in love… What should I do about it?
— Suffer, like everyone else.
— So, what do you know about him?
After class, Gi-хун couldn’t hold back and dragged Jong-bae to a café to extract all the information from him.
Jong-bae snorted.
— Everyone knows In-ho. He’s one of the top students, gets a scholarship, has perfect grades.
— Wow.
— And he’s absolutely unattainable.
Gi-hун frowned.
— What do you mean?
— He doesn’t really socialize, — Jong-bae explained, chewing on a pastry. — Everyone clings to him, but he just ignores people. He’s considered either a snob or a recluse.
— Maybe he’s just busy?
— Maybe. But the fact remains: you’re not interesting to him.
Gi-hун pondered, poking his spoon into his coffee.
— Do you think I have no chance?
Jong-bae looked at him sympathetically.
— You’re entering a long list of victims.
Gi-hун rolled his eyes.
— Very encouraging, thanks.
But despite Jong-bae’s words, Gi-хун couldn’t get In-ho out of his mind.
Every time he saw him on campus — his heart raced.
Every time he heard his voice — goosebumps ran down his spine.
Every time he accidentally bumped into him in the hallway…
Oh, gods.
Gi-хун tried to convince himself that it was just ordinary admiration.
But alas.
He was in love.
And it was damn inconvenient.
In the evening, torn between self-criticism and dreams, Gi-хун решил пожаловаться единственному человеку, который точно не будет его осуждать.
He opened the chat and typed a message:
> Smiling person: “Help. I’m stuck.”
The reply came three hours later.
> Youngil: “How?”
Gi-hун sighed heavily and began typing.
> Smiling person: “I like a guy.”
> Youngil: “Fool😳.”
> Smiling person: “Thanks for the support.”
> Youngil: “It’s your fault☝️.”
Gi-хун smiled tiredно.
He had met Youngil back in middle school. A random chat, a random acquaintance, but for some reason, their friendship lasted for years.
But Gi-hун trusted him.
> Smiling person: “He’s beautiful. And smart. And unattainable.”
> Youngil: “You’re in trouble😰.”
> Smiling person:“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”
> Youngil: “Forget about him🥺.”
Gi-хун looked at the screen and rolled his eyes.
> Smiling person:“You’re not good at giving advice.”
> Youngil:“And you’re not good at listening😉.”
Gi-хун laughed.
He didn’t know who Youngil was in real life.
But sometimes it felt like he understood him better than anyone else.
Gi-hун sat at a table in the café where he and Jong-bae often spent time. Around them, youth buzzed, discussing their affairs, laughing, and taking photos for social media. Gi-hун, lost in his thoughts, couldn’t help but notice how quickly the days passed in the new college. And although he had his own worries, he still sought comfort in communicating with his online friend – Youngil.
— You know, — Gi-хун began, pulling himself away from his thoughts and looking at Jong-bae, — I have this online friend who just drives me crazy.
— Oh yeah? — Jong-bae raised an eyebrow with interest. — What’s his name?
— Youngil. We’ve been chatting since middle school, — Gi-hун replied, reaching for his cup of coffee. — He’s so… strange. He rarely replies and always uses old-fashioned emojis.
— Strange friend, — Jong-bae smirked. — What’s his nickname?
Gi-hун thought. Youngil’s nickname was as mysterious as the guy himself. He always said he didn’t like to share personal information online.
— I don’t remember exactly, but something like “Youngil_always_online.” — Gi-hун chuckled, recalling their first encounter online. — The first time I saw him, I thought he was some kind of bot.
— Why a bot? — Jong-bae asked curiously.
— Because he always responds in a one-word manner and without emotions! — Gi-хун couldn’t hold back his smile. — Look, for example.
Gi-hун pulled out his phone and opened the chat with Youngil.
— Here, for instance, — he began reading the messages aloud:
> Smiling person: “How’s it going?”
> Youngil (three days later): “Working🤭.”
> Smiling person: “Are you even eating?”
> Youngil (another day later): “Yeah☺️.”
> Smiling person: “Aha, so in five days you’ll reply that you’re sleeping.”
Jong-bae laughed, rolling with laughter.
— No, this is really funny! — he slapped the table. — How do you even manage to be friends with him?
— I don’t know, — Gi-hун shrugged. — But he’s actually a really good person.
Gi-hун closed his eyes and remembered the day they first met. It was autumn, and he was sitting in his room, immersed in endless chats. He stumbled upon a forum discussing school problems and difficulties. There, he saw Youngil’s message.
"If anyone needs help with studies, I can assist."
Gi-hун was intrigued. He messaged him privately.
— Hi! Do you really want to help? I don’t know how to deal with math, — he typed, not expecting a quick reply.
To his surprise, Youngil responded almost instantly.
> "Yes, I can help🤗."
Gi-hун smiled lightly and wrote:
> Oh, that’s wonderful, but what’s your name :D ?
— Youngil☺️, — came the reply.
Gi-hун couldn’t resist making a joke.
— Oh, your name means "first." So, you must be good at everything, haha.
To which Youngil responded reservedly:
> "That’s not my real name😅."
Gi-hун was a bit surprised:
— How come?
> "Don’t you know that you shouldn’t give your real information online😳? Every time you share personal data — whether it’s your name, address, phone number, or birth date — you risk facing various threats. The internet, despite its advantages, can be a dangerous place, and careless handling of personal data can lead to serious consequences☹️," Youngil replied quickly.
Gi-hун frowned at the amount of text, but a joke immediately popped into his head.
— Wait, are you giving a lecture on online safety right now? Are you really my age?
In response, Youngil said:
> "Yes, it’s important! And yes, I’m your age 😎."
Gi-hун pondered for a moment and then replied:
— Well, you can call me "Smiling person" :)
From that moment on, their friendship began to develop, but Gi-hун always remembered that strange момент.
— By the way, why does he take so long to reply to you? — Jong-bae pulled Gi-hун back to reality.
— Well, he’s a busy guy! — Gi-hун replied with a light smile. — Plus, he always says he’s working on something important. I don’t even know what exactly he’s doing.
— Maybe he’s just trying to get rid of you and is simply ignoring you? — Jong-bae teased, raising an eyebrow.
— Maybe. But usually, he’s always online, — Gi-hун mused. — Sometimes I think he just doesn’t eat or sleep.
— That’s strange, — Jong-bae said. — What if Youngil is actually In-ho?
Gi-hун initially laughed but then pondered.
— In-ho? Seriously? — he shook his head. — No way, he’s completely different! In-ho is the one who studies all the time and doesn’t pay attention to anyone around. And Youngil… he’s just… strange.
— Maybe In-ho is living a double life? — Jong-bae teased him.
Gi-hун thought again. What if? In-ho was so closed off and unattainable that there were indeed parallels to be drawn. But no, that was too strange.
— No, — he concluded, brushing the thought aside. — Youngil is Youngil. In-ho is In-ho.
— Jong-bae, you really have watched too many detective shows…
— Hey, that’s not true!