7. The Catalyst
"Hello, sunbae."
A junior giving a slight bow in greeting. A trivial change. Just becoming an ordinary senior-junior relationship had noticeably softened her wariness. Even when I tested the waters by moving my arm closer, she only looked a bit flustered now—she didn't call me out on it anymore. Still, she didn't go out of her way to talk to me either. Just that kind of relationship. A little awkward, but not bad either. That was our distance.
I pulled my chair back and raised a hand in return.
"Hey, hi."
I liked this level of distance. A relationship that didn't tire either of us out, perfectly neutral. Now that I didn't have to worry about the person next to me, cultural studies class felt way more comfortable than before. And all the annoying crap was finally over. Sure, I'd gotten dragged into some weird mess midway, but it had all worked out in the end. Finally, I could watch Rie's streams in peace. A wave of liberation washed over me, leaving me feeling refreshed.
"...Did something good happen?"
"Huh...? Oh, nothing."
"...?"
Just happy for no reason. Happy that I could watch Rie's streams again. My bliss must've shown on my face. She tilted her head at my answer, giving me a puzzled look, but I just smiled back. Thinking of Rie fumbling her words.
After starting university, Han Seol found herself lost in thought more often. Her life had flipped 180 degrees.
Up until then, Han Seol's life had been utterly bland. Ever since her second growth spurt began. Always, every time. She'd first felt different from everyone else back in her first year of middle school.
"...I like you."
A boy shyly confessing his feelings.
"...?"
And Han Seol, not understanding what he meant.
She was still too young to grasp the boy's love confession. All she felt was pure confusion: I'm not even close to this guy—why's he saying he likes me?
So she replied, "I don't like you much."
Straight to the point. She'd cut down the boy who'd confessed publicly in front of everyone. And the next day, when his friends pranked her amid the backlash of "that's too harsh," that's when she finally got what "I like you" meant. But it still didn't make sense to her. Even if she'd understood from the start, her answer wouldn't have changed.
After that, similar things kept happening. I like you, I like you, I like you. That damn "I like you!" She grew more and more exhausted. She tried her best. Maybe ignoring them? She stonewalled a few times. Or maybe reject them kindly? She tried turning them down as nicely as possible. But it was pointless. What came back was envy, jealousy, and malice. She hadn't done anything wrong, she hated the guys confessing to her, and she hated getting pranked just for rejecting them. And even—
"Hey, you were the one hitting on him, right?"
"...What?"
When a bunch of classmates mobbed her and shoved her shoulders, she was so wronged she soaked her pillow that night. One by one, two by two, ten by ten. As the numbers grew, she naturally became isolated.
What the hell was love anyway? What the hell was dating, that she had to go through this? It was infuriating. Infuriating enough to drive her mad. To Han Seol, it felt like the whole world was pointing fingers at her. You're the wrong one. But she soon realized.
"No thanks."
"Come on, why? Just give me your number."
It wasn't her who was weird.
"Please, just stop!"
"You fucking bitch, you hit on him first!"
They were the weird ones.
That was when it started. When she shut up her heart and stopped mingling with people. Even if someone approached with sweet words, she saw the filthy lust in men's eyes. Even if she got close to someone, she saw friends whispering behind her back. Her conclusion was simple: No one likes me purely. Not a single one. At least, that's how it looked through Han Seol's eyes—no one approached her with innocent intentions. She was a loner. She lived fiercely alone, interacting with no one. Sure, there were still guys eyeing her with sexual hunger along the way, but to her, they were just worthless rocks stumbling in her path. Kick them aside—that's all they deserved. Not worth considering, not worth understanding. Utterly valueless rocks.
But loneliness didn't shake off that easily. Even she, who'd convinced herself she was used to being alone, found the lack of human connection pretty damn hard to endure. Through middle school, high school, university. While doing homework one day, she spotted a game ad by chance. An ad inviting her into an original game world crafted with the devs' blood, sweat, and tears. She'd never played a game in her life, and with no friends, she had nothing better to do. She cautiously clicked, signed up simply, and installed it.
Soon, hitting start flooded her monitor with a vibrant game world.
"Whoa..."
At first, she just wandered, admiring the cute buildings. Cute, novel, fresh. A whole different world packed into this tiny screen, unlike reality. But boredom hit fast. Boring. All she did was walk around—impossible to stay hooked. Sure, it'd spark mild interest for a look or two, but it wasn't enough to pull her in deep. She sighed and opened the system menu. Yeah, what was I thinking? A game I've never touched before in my life isn't gonna be fun.
That was when it happened. A character approached—similar to hers, but even cuter and more whimsical.
The excited tone gave Han Seol a strange feeling, but when the friend request popped up, she got it. She was planning to quit soon anyway, so she accepted and typed.
The screen went dark. My first chat in ages. Han Seol murmured softly at the blank monitor.
Some time passed after that.
Han Seol had crossed an irreversible river. Severe game addiction. Now she got anxious without it. The game itself wasn't the main hook, though. It was that whimsical character standing before hers. Gaining a friend she'd never had in reality—the effortless chats, no need to watch each other's cues or meet up—hit her hard, after years as a loner.
Of course, cyberspace wasn't all good people like an unnie. Plenty of weirdos, just like reality. But this unnie was the only one who'd approached her, clueless as she was. That slowly chipped away at Han Seol's walls. Their personalities differed, but they clicked in conversation, getting close fast—sharing real names, even voice chatting.
Han Seol slipped on her headset, bought a month ago.
*Ring!*
The connection tone chimed, and a woman's voice filled her ears.
"How's my Seol doing?"
"...Aren't you coming online too little lately?"
"Sorry, didn't expect to get this busy."
Han Seol loved her calls with Jiyeon, but they made her anxious too. It felt like it'd end someday. Proof: Jiyeon's login times had dropped sharply. From every three days to once a week. It stung, left her wistful. And she wasn't the only one. Jiyeon felt bitterly bittersweet about less time with her sweet, obedient dongsaeng—the fresh newbie who followed her guidance so purely and cutely.
Maybe swept up in those feelings, Jiyeon started digging up what she'd hidden. To grow closer to her cute dongsaeng.
"Seol-ah, truth is... unnie does streams."
"Streams...? No way, are you a celebrity?!"
"No no! Nothing that big... uh... like internet streams..."
"Internet... streams...?"
"Yeah. Figured you wouldn't know."
She chuckled softly and continued. "First, search 'A-ri' online?"
"Got it."
Searching as told brought up a character: pink hair with animal ears, super cute. A black ribbon over a white blouse amped up the charm.
"What's this?"
"Hmm, where to start with you, Seol-ah..."
"...?"
"Anyway, don't tell anyone about this, got it?"
"Yeah."
"It's called an avatar..."
Internet streams, VTubers, the platform she streamed on—Jiyeon explained it all in detail, and Han Seol listened intently.
"So... real-time chatting with viewers?"
"Exactly! So come hang in my stream when you're bored."
At Jiyeon's smooth invitation, Han Seol naturally nodded along.