Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Life's Greatest Troll
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Looking back, I was such an idiot.
Or rather than an idiot... I was just born a natural-born troll.
I have one long-standing hobby.
Started back in middle school, maybe?
Anyway, it's a hobby with deep roots, going way back to my early years.
Trolling on DC Inside.
The method is simple.
Pick any gallery.
Spend a few days lurking to gauge the main gallery opinion—the gal opinion.
Then post something completely opposite, pretending to be all logical or innocently naive.
Want an example?
Go to a baseball gallery hyped up with fans of a specific team and shill hard for the rival team.
"Honestly, Hanwha is winning it this year, right? Lol. If you disagree, you're all right."
Something like that.
Then the rival fans come foaming at the mouth.
Or hit up a female idol gallery and deliberately post the unflattering pics.
"Has our Ji-eun... put on some weight?"
One line does the trick.
Hundreds of curse-filled replies pour in—quite the spectacle.
I loved watching the reactions.
Dozens, hundreds of people flipping out over my few words.
Anonymous strangers I'd never met, biting my bait and raging.
The thrill was indescribable.
Maybe my marriage was just an extension of that trolling.
The fierce family opposition.
The more my parents, brother, and sister objected, the more my inner troll DNA squirmed.
'Opposing me this hard? Time to rebel.'
In the end, I pulled off the greatest troll of my life.
Was there ever a bigger moron?
Among all my trolling repertoires, the Stock Gallery—aka Jugal—was by far the most fun.
A place where hatred and skepticism toward women and marriage burned 24/7.
The world pointed fingers calling it a misogyny gallery, but let's be real—nothing they said was logically wrong.
"Guys who suck at everything but stocks."
Could there be a more perfect way to describe Jugal users?
The truth is, this misogyny sentiment has a long history.
I first learned it while messing around on Jugal.
Great sages and ancient scholars.
Their famous quotes held deep insights into women.
All fabricated? Just search online—it's all there.
Sages thousands of years ago pierced through women's essence and warned us.
Modern society just ignores the truth, drowned in PC culture.
Jugal was merely restating truths passed down for millennia.
Now I've become a bloated Puffed Male, fully buying into Jugal theory after bitter experience—but just a year ago, I was the polar opposite.
Back then, I genuinely couldn't understand Jugal users.
Or more accurately, I didn't want to.
Every night, passionate love with my wife; waking up to her lovely face beside me—how could I grasp their hate-filled cries?
Their posts just seemed like losers' self-consolation or mental victories.
So I started trolling.
Under my handle "Loser Male."
It went beyond mere fun—it felt like a mission.
'I'll show these gloomy losers what real 'happiness' looks like.'
Of course, we had no kid back then.
But who cares?
Google all the cute baby pics you want.
That's how I got my virtual son.
My trolling was consistent.
[Put the kid to bed and having a beer with the wife lol]
(Photo: Stock image of a peacefully sleeping baby from the internet)
This is happiness lol. You losers will never know it ㅠㅠ Poor bastards lol
When trolling Jugal as Loser Male, my favorite routine was mocking them by switching ages and jobs.
I wanted to ridicule their loser logic.
So sometimes I'd become a self-made 28-year-old entrepreneur.
I got a high from hitting their freakout buttons.
Imagining them trembling with rage behind their monitors.
Nothing was more entertaining.
I cackled at their meltdowns.
Truth didn't matter.
What mattered was them getting pissed at my posts.
Their rage was my report card for successful trolling.
For over a year, I reigned as Jugal's "official Puffed Male" and "happiness evangelist."
Thinking back, I was utterly insane.
I never dreamed those curses they hurled would become my reality exactly one year later.
The cracks in my happy marriage started exactly one year in.
Lately, whenever I'd try to get intimate at night, she'd snap and dodge.
'What the fuck? What's her deal lately?'
I grumbled inwardly.
Probably just not feeling well. I let it slide.
But after repeated rejections, my male pride took a hit.
So I stopped pushing.
I had my lifelong girlfriend, my right hand, anyway.
I'm a prideful guy.
Maybe because I grew up showered in love.
Rejection sparked defiance.
'Fine, I won't touch you till you beg.'
Our love-whispering bed turned into a cold sleep-only zone.
She started heading out way more.
The house naturally fell apart.
After months of watching, I finally called her out.
And said it as calmly as possible.
"Ji-su, what's going on lately? You're never home, always out... What's bothering you?"
Ji-su shot back with a pouty face.
"I'm not out every day! Staying cooped up is suffocating! Am I your maid or something?"
...The fuck!?
Listen to this bitch talk.
Raised in a proper family lineage, I had patriarchal instincts.
'A woman... talking back?'
Made me wanna smack her.
But in this female-supremacist era, that'd spell disaster.
I sighed deeply and tried again.
"Don't talk like that. Honestly, we haven't been intimate lately... You're always out. I'm just worried."
Ji-su gave me a pathetic look.
"Did you marry me just for that? You're hopeless. Am I a machine? A whore? I'm pissed, so I'm going out tonight."
With that, she slammed the door and left.
...The fuck?
What bullshit is this?
I couldn't comprehend it.
I'd tried talking nicely.
Just got sharp backlash.
Only one year into marriage.
How could someone change so much?
Where did the wife who whispered love go?
Alone in the empty living room, I sat stunned and lonely.
Being alone in the empty house brought all sorts of thoughts.
What did I do wrong?
Or did I even?
My head felt like bursting.
Wanted to vent to someone, but too embarrassing for friends.
Unthinkingly, I hit the PC power button.
And headed to DC Inside Stock Gallery as usual.
Even knowing life's answers weren't on the internet.
When life got tough, galleries first—that's the fate of gal trash life.
Of course, couldn't post as Loser Male.
Happiness evangelist whining about fighting his wife? Horrifying.
Had to prevent that.
I quietly started posting under a throwaway anon nick.
I blankly scrolled the replies.
Mostly mocking and ridiculing me.
'I'm the idiot for asking these guys.'
Wrong place.
Ah.
Don't get mad when she comes home—talk it out calmly first.