Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: Don't Get Married...
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The depths of the Korean internet.
Or more accurately, just the sewers.
DC Inside.
And among them, the place reeking the most was undoubtedly the Stock Gallery.
Stock talk?
Of course not.
Pretty much all stock discussions had migrated to the US Stocks Gallery, leaving this one as little more than a dumping ground for hating on women and marriage.
That day was peaceful, as always.
Someone preached the Dishwashing Theory, another ranted about the Wife-Control Theory.
A turd of a concept post claiming international marriage was the answer popped up too.
Just another peaceful day.
Then the Stock Gallery users' mouse wheels froze mid-scroll as they hit refresh.
[Chat] Don't Get Married...
Author: Loser Male
......
The gallery fell into sudden silence.
Or it would have, if it weren't an online community.
Instead, keyboards clattered cheerfully.
It was understandable.
The author's nickname.
'Loser Male'.
He was a 'Hate Nick' known to everyone in the Stock Gallery.
Of course, 'likeable' here was sarcasm.
The most hated and despised fixed nick, infamous for it.
That was 'Loser Male'.
His main activity was trolling.
Directly opposing the gallery's mainstream opinion that 'marriage is insane.'
[Chat] My son is so pretty after having him.
Author: Loser Male
— (baby photo) Marriage gave me such a pretty son, I'm so happy. Stop just hating on women from your rooms and get married already. True happiness in life is building a family.
Stuff like that.
Always praising marriage, bragging about kids, expressing love for his wife.
He knew exactly how to make the Stock Gallery users' blood boil.
His posts, acting like he was the only normal one while calling the sewer-dwellers losers, always pulled massive aggro.
The users called him a retard Puffed Male and cursed him out, but some secretly enjoyed his presence.
After endless hate posts, his trolls were a refreshing change.
Anyway, 'Loser Male' was the symbol of the exact opposite of the Stock Gallery's vibe.
But now.
That Loser Male.
Had posted: Don't Get Married...
And the content was even wilder.
[......]
Just six dots.
That was it.
The Stock Gallery plunged into chaos.
The gallery was in full festival mode.
The pathetic(?) downfall of the Hate Nick who'd always tormented them.
What better spectacle was there?
The post rocketed to hundreds of recommendations and became a concept post in no time.
Speculation, mockery, and a tiny bit of pity filled the board.
The Stock Gallery, with Loser Male's post, entered a new phase.
Beyond mere mockery and consolation, his post began evolving into a 'meme'.
It started with a throwaway anon joke.
[Chat] Don't Trade Stocks...
Author: Anonymous (175.223)
....
A straight rip-off parody of 'Loser Male's' post.
The Stock Gallery users bit immediately.
That was the signal flare.
As if by agreement, the gallery flooded with posts titled 'Don't Do OOO...'
[Chat] Don't Get an International Marriage...
Author: International Marriage is Answer (125.177)
....
— Go Go (39.7): Why?
— Old Hag Extermination Squad (110.70): You traitor bastard!
— Anonymous (220.85): lololol self-denial fml
[Chat] Don't Breathe...
Author: Wife-Control Worm (106.101)
....
— Anonymous (118.235): Why?
— Abandoned Korean Male (121.135): You dog bastard
— Stock Gal User A (223.38): lol this crossed the line lol
[Chat] Don't Jack Off...
Author: Anonymous (211.178)
....
— Dishwashing Expert (175.223): Why?????????? (serious)
— Puffed Male (211.36): This one's a bit...
— Korean Woman Ruin (1.235): This guy's taking one for the team lololol
The gallery was a madhouse.
One man's tragic(?) cry turned into hilarious fun in seconds.
Loser Male's original post became a holy site.
Countless users pilgrimaged there, leaving comments in 'Holy Site Pilgrimage'.
Most said the same thing.
Ah... fuck.
This sucks so bad.
My name is Kim Ji-hoon.
I'm twenty-six.
Right after getting discharged from the military.
Like a dog in heat with eyes rolled back, I snagged one fresh-faced new undergrad.
And succeeded in marriage.
Back then, I was on fire like possessed, thinking it was true love.
But looking back? Love my ass.
Took a full two years to realize my dick had been running the show.
Reason for divorce? Hilarious too.
My wife started nagging nonstop, probably got a taste for late nights.
"Oppa, don't you think I got married too young?"
"I was at my prettiest... I could've had more fun..."
She lived with those words on her lips.
At first, I thought it was cute. It was true, after all.
Me at twenty-four, wife at twenty-one. Way too young for marriage.
But our family had money.
The stereotypical ancestral clan home.
A lineage with deep roots, plenty of successful relatives.
Family business was food.
Not some fancy franchise—a sauce maker.
Making basics like soybean paste, gochujang, soy sauce.
Famous for artisan touch, so we had decent cash.
Anyway, I was so hooked I thought it had to be her or nothing, did something insane.
Proposed.
My then-girlfriend wife was possessed too, said yes.
Family opposition was fiercer than expected.
"Hey! Marriage at that age?"
"No job, still a student! No way!"
Dad and Mom opposed, naturally.
Brother looked at me like a madman.
"Crazy bastard, at it again?"
Tongue tsks were bonus.
Even high school little sis stared like I was nuts.
If I could go back.
I'd soccer kick my past self's head while thrashing on the floor.
Like a drowning cockroach.
Spoiled rotten by love, I was hopeless back then.
After a month of chaos, convinced the parents.
Or rather, they gave up from exhaustion.
With reluctant faces, they met my young girlfriend themselves.
"Really... no regrets?"
But we were a pair of cockroaches.
Showed iron resolve like independence fighters.
Engagement wrapped up quick.
We were both broke students. Her family average.
Dad finally gave an apartment for the 'sin of young daughter-in-law'.
Thus began our sweet-and-bitter newlywed life.
First year... yeah, honestly blissful.
Twenty-four.
Prime age for male lust erupting like lava.
Morning, noon, night. No time or place off-limits, I devoured my wife.
But that fire lasted exactly one year.
Then it wilted.
'Couples live on affection after time passes.'
'Why fuss in the family?'
Post-year one, I felt those words in my bones.
Pressure as head of household to work mounted.
Not like we starved.
Parents sent living expenses regularly.
Dad especially doted on young daughter-in-law.
Even handed her a card:
"Honey, buy whatever with this."
Girl who'd scrimped forever.
Suddenly magic auto-refilling card?
You can imagine.
Pent-up spending burst like a dam.
Met friends daily, swiped card, mall-hopped shopping.
Meanwhile, I helped at main house with sauce-making occasionally.
Never brought wife.
Why? Thought it was husband's role then.
Saw it online endlessly.
'Wise husbands mediate wife-in-law conflicts.'
Best care: no in-law stress.
Fuck that.
Didn't know it was all women's gaslighting.
Women are innate gaslighters.
Not learned.
Like breathing, blinking.
DNA-instinct for survival.
To get what they want.
Or dodge bad spots.
They naturally twist facts, guilt-trip, play victim.
Classic: "Is that all, oppa?" magic line to bro.
Man logically right?
That flips him petty selfish villain instantly.
Ancient female survival strat against physical male edge.
No direct win, so manipulate emotions, sway opinion.
Tears, weakness act, sly word swaps—their best weapons.