Not Easy with Im Daseul
After finishing dinner—overflowing with what could only be described as excessive kindness from Siyeon, or more accurately, overprotectiveness toward her big brother laced with a hefty dose of sisterly love—I retreated to my room. Honestly, even though the food tasted great while I was eating it, I felt a bit bloated. But now that I’d finished, my stomach was pleasantly full. A wave of drowsiness washed over me, and I couldn’t help thinking that nothing beats home.
The plush feel of this mattress was on another level compared to the stark military bunk beds or the cheap mattress from my old studio apartment in my previous life. I sprawled out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, and the events of the day flashed through my mind like a montage. The nosebleed incident in the infirmary, the way I’d stolen all the attention in the cafeteria, that bizarre three-way standoff in the library, and even the gyaru hunt on the way home from school. For a discharged army sergeant wearing the skin of a yankee, it had been one hell of a spectacular schedule.
After eating and resting for a bit, I decided to go for a run at the nearby park. Running was a hobby I’d enjoyed both in my current life as a model student yankee and in my previous one. By the time I got back home, showered, and puttered around, it was already ten at night. Too awkward to go to sleep, but also too awkward to start anything new.
“I’m bored. Maybe I should shoot Daseul a message?”
‘Oh, right. Her contact info.’
It suddenly hit me that I hadn’t gotten Im Daseul’s number. It wouldn’t matter if I just saw her at school tomorrow, but as a kind-hearted yankee—or at the very least, as a friend—it felt like basic courtesy to ask if she’d attached the keyring I bought her and whether she’d gotten home safely. Truth be told, my real motive was mostly just wanting to see her flustered reaction through text, but whatever.
I pulled my smartphone out of my pocket and opened Cocoatalk. The second the app launched, a flood of unread messages poured in. Ding. Ding. Ding. It looked like the stunts I’d pulled at school today had already spread like wildfire.
From the guys’ excited, nosy questions to the girls’ casual game invites and not-so-subtle date proposals, it was clear that the original Kang Siwoo had been quite the social butterfly and popular guy. Messages in group chats, private chats—it was all a dizzying mess.
If I were still my old self from my previous life, I probably would’ve gotten tired of the constant pinging and replied to each one individually. But the current me? I’m a fucking alpha male. I reply when I want, I read and ignore when I want, I straight-up ignore when I want.
…Okay, that’s mostly a joke. At the end of the day, the friends in my memories are still my friends. Suddenly acting cold and distancing myself like I’d ghosted them wouldn’t be right. I’ve seen plenty of guys who fall in love and ditch their buddies, but I had zero intention of abandoning all my friendships when I hadn’t even fallen for anyone yet.
After all, if the gloomy girl couldn’t muster up the courage and our relationship never progressed, there was always the chance she’d get swept away by some flashy, well-dressed, pretty gyaru who’d been friendly with her from the start. I fired off quick replies to the incoming messages one by one until the main character of all this commotion finally came to mind.
That would be none other than my desk partner, Miss Im Daseul.
Come to think of it, the whole reason I’d opened Cocoatalk was to message her, but I’d completely forgotten. “Ugh, this is such a pain. How am I supposed to dig up her contact info? If word gets out that I’m going around asking for her number, my friends are gonna lose their minds tomorrow. Man…”
While I was trying to figure out the fastest way to get her contact, the class president popped into my head. I remembered that at the beginning of the semester, the president had collected everyone’s numbers. ‘Oh, right. There was a class group chat.’ That was exactly why the president had gathered all the contacts in the first place.
…My intelligence hadn’t actually dropped, had it?
When I opened the class group chat, they were already talking about me and Im Daseul in there too. Even though the teacher wasn’t around, the chat was pure chaos. Then again, I used to be one of the loudest ones in there, so I was basically spitting on my own face. Gyaru and yankee spit might be in high demand, but I’d rather it not be mine. Especially since one side could produce it on its own.
I ignored the random chatter and scrolled through the profile pictures. With only twenty-three people in the class, and since her last name was Im, it didn’t take long to spot the strikingly out-of-place profile near the middle.
The moment I tapped on Im Daseul’s profile picture, I couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh.
“……What the hell is this. This is incredible.”
The screen was completely filled with an extreme close-up of an unidentified anime character’s eyes. Not just any eyes, either—these were classic yandere eyes, the kind that looked like they could burst into tears at any moment while also seeming completely unhinged. The background image was an emotional otaku meme with tons of mysterious Japanese lyrics written across a rainy window, and her status message simply read ‘…….’ all by itself.
I couldn’t tell if she’d decorated her profile like this on purpose or if it was some kind of barricade telling people not to approach. A normal person seeing this profile would probably think, ‘Yeah, better not touch this one,’ and quietly back out. Someone with bad intentions might even feel compelled to personally punish her for being so brazen.
It was the ultimate “do not enter” sign for an otaku living in her own little world. But to me, it just looked like an adorable defense mechanism.
Without hesitation, I tapped the ‘1:1 Chat’ button.
A classic popular-kid opener with zero context. I wondered how Daseul would react to a message like this. Would she throw her phone across the room? Or maybe have another meltdown on her bed and get another nosebleed? Probably not that extreme, though.
I had to admit I was a little disappointed I wouldn’t get to see her reaction in person. I lay on my bed, staring intently at the smartphone screen. It had been a while since I’d felt this particular tension—waiting for that little ‘1’ next to my message to disappear. It was like the thrilling suspense right before opening a gacha box.
And just like skipping the animation the moment you see gold, the ‘1’ vanished much faster than I expected. Honestly, it disappeared almost the instant I sent the message. At that speed, it didn’t seem like she’d been chatting with anyone else. Maybe she’d been secretly checking out my profile pictures?
Since I’d been doing the same thing to her profile, I guess we were even. …But why wasn’t she replying?
I figured I might as well watch some Shorts while I waited. A trend-sensitive yankee doesn’t waste time. After scrolling for about ten minutes, a message finally arrived.
Look at that reply speed. Had she been agonizing over what to say? I chuckled and sent the next message.
Just from the text, I could perfectly picture what kind of face Daseul was making while typing. She was probably flailing on her bed, clutching her phone, face red as a tomato, fingers trembling so hard she was desperately trying not to make any typos.
Her reactions were so good that I couldn’t help but enjoy teasing her. Even though I couldn’t see it, just imagining it was satisfying enough.
After that last message, I set my phone down. Even with the sensibilities of a discharged army sergeant, these fresh, innocent(?) texts had a strangely tickling charm to them. I wondered what kind of reaction she’d show me tomorrow. With that pleasant thought in mind, I closed my eyes.
In a pitch-dark room, the only source of light was the glow of the smartphone screen on the bed. Daseul kept rereading the chat log she’d just shared with Siwoo over and over. The way she savored every single character made her look no different from a pope reading the scriptures.
‘He told me to sleep well…….’
That one short goodbye from Siwoo sent an earthquake through her chest. Daseul gently poked the keyring she’d carefully placed on her bedside table with her finger. It was Treasure No. 1—the one Siwoo had personally chosen and paid for. What if it got scratched while she carried it on her bag? No, Siwoo had told her to attach it, so she absolutely had to. Besides, she’d already told him she put it on.
Just then, her smartphone vibrated again. Vrr, vrr—
Her heart sank thinking it might be Siwoo, but the name on the screen was different.
Normally, she would’ve already logged in, turned on her mic, and finished all her preparations so she wouldn’t inconvenience her party members. Gaming had always been Daseul’s only escape and daily routine. But today, she didn’t have the confidence to focus on the game screen at all.
Just looking at the keyring Siwoo had bought her and replaying their conversation was already using up every last bit of her brain capacity. There was no room for any other information.
After hesitating for a moment, Daseul typed a reply with trembling fingers. The game she’d always played out of habit didn’t feel appealing at all right now.
It was a lie. She wasn’t tired at all. If anything, her mind was clearer than ever, and her heart was pounding like it might explode. Unlike healthy-living yankees, eleven at night was prime active time for a first-tier otaku like her—not bedtime.
After reading Wooju’s reply, Daseul clutched her phone tightly to her chest. In all her years living as an otaku, she had never once broken a gaming promise. But today, for some reason, she felt like it was okay. No, it actually felt good.
The fact that a person named Siwoo was slowly but surely invading her daily life. The sensation of her world gradually being dyed in Siwoo’s colors felt sweeter to Daseul than any victory in a game.
In the darkness, Daseul buried her flushed face into her blanket. It was a night where she was terrified of tomorrow coming, yet at the same time, she was waiting for it like crazy. In her head, she had already practiced the first greeting she would give Siwoo tomorrow tens of thousands of times.
She’d gotten into bed, but… there was still a lot of time left before she actually fell asleep.
“Ehehehe…”
Cancel what I said earlier. Since “play” in English also means “game,” tonight she was going to enjoy plenty of solo games.
And so, Im Daseul didn’t manage to fall asleep until after four in the morning. It was much later than her usual bedtime.