Campus Life
I love the time between dawn and morning. Dawn is the perfect hour for a nocturnal creature like me because there’s no noise at all, letting me focus entirely on my work. As dawn fades and the world outside begins to brighten, everything fills with a soft blue light before the sun itself appears. That’s when I realize morning has arrived and another day has passed. Grabbing the newspaper that arrives around five, sipping warm milk or coffee while enjoying a brief moment of leisure—that’s how I complete the perfect all-nighter. My lifestyle didn’t change much even after reincarnating, so today, after staying up all night, I’m standing in front of the newspaper stand outside the student union building, picking up an economic paper to read.
Why an economic newspaper instead of a general one or a specialized magazine? Because the entire nation is dancing and singing right at the edge of a cliff, and I need to know exactly when to cash out. With every bit of money I have left after living expenses poured into stocks, if the timing arrives even a little earlier than I remember, I’ll end up broke. That’s why I have to keep watching the economy. From the Team Nervous Lee incident, I know there’s a real chance this world differs from the original one even without my butterfly effect. Sometimes I wish I didn’t know. It’s like the curse of knowledge—being aware only makes me anxious for no reason. You were right, Tony Stark… Thanks to you, my plans are all tangled up. I had several things lined up around future events, but now I can’t be sure they’ll happen the way I expect. My head is a mess. Whatever. I’ll deal with it when the time comes.
***
“It’s almost two. I have class, so I’ll start packing up.”
“Me too. Toss me that bag over there.”
In an instant, everyone except one or two people left the clubroom. After that, they scattered, and when I arrived at the liberal arts lecture hall and unpacked my things, I felt a gaze from beside me. I usually get stared at anyway, so I sat down without paying much attention.
“Why are you here…?”
The voice was familiar. I turned to see Yoo Ji-young staring at me with wide eyes. Actually, that should be my line. This was a required liberal arts course, the kind first-years usually took.
“Ah, I didn’t realize it was required and skipped it…”
That’s why having senior connections is important. If I hadn’t met a senior who knew these things, I would’ve ended up just like Ji-young.
“Alright, that’s enough chatting.”
The professor said something that sounded exactly like a high-school homeroom teacher, and class began. It was incredibly boring. Even thinking back to the interview from the first session was enough to make me drowsy. From beside me came a steady scratching sound, so I assumed she was taking diligent notes and glanced over—only to see eyes. Eyes, eyes, and more eyes. Dozens of variations filled the page: eyes drawn in the style of shoujo manga, photorealistic eyes, simplified round eyes, Dragon Ball-style eyes, and the kind of eyes I was all too familiar with from hardcore otaku art. As an industrial design major, Yoo Ji-young was, by Korean standards at the time, quite the hardcore otaku.
***
Every otaku tries drawing at least once. Haven’t tried yet? You will soon. Whether it’s inspiration from an illustration or the thought “I could draw better than this” after seeing something posted online, everyone picks up a pencil eventually. And when people start practicing, the first thing they usually draw is eyes. I don’t know why, but that’s how it always goes. The result is usually a page crammed full of eyes. I’m mentioning this because back in my original world, I was a fairly well-known otaku myself. I even appeared on TV for cosplay, and as the head of a successful Korean otaku game, my face at events would draw crowds asking for autographs. Like I said earlier, every otaku tries drawing at least once. Some realize they have no talent and never pick up a pencil again. Others keep going with sheer determination. I was clearly the latter. Drawing was the thing I was second-best at after coding. In other words, bringing modern art styles and knowledge from my previous world made me a pioneer among otaku illustrators here. A true talent ahead of my time.
So what I’m trying to say is—
“If you add a highlight like this under the iris, it looks pretty good. And if you make the highlight round like this, it’s finished.”
“Whoa…!”
Yoo Ji-young and I got along surprisingly well, especially when it came to art. Before the two-hour liberal arts class even ended, I’d drawn a ridiculously good rough sketch on impulse. It felt like I was drawing better than I had in my previous world. Maybe there was some reincarnator bonus involved. Still, drawing on paper with a pencil felt inconvenient. Someday I’d have to make a tablet and a proper drawing app too. In the end, that liberal arts class turned into a private drawing lesson for Yoo Ji-young. If the professor wanted our attention, he should’ve made the lecture more interesting.
***
June. The season when people finally shed their coats and start wearing short-sleeved shirts or just T-shirts. Which means—
“Stop staring at me like that! It’s seriously distracting!”
I, too, couldn’t handle the heat radiating from those two massive lumps of fat and had to abandon my hoodie, indirectly exposing the terrifying form of this dangerous meat. In a male-dominated engineering club where guys made up seventy percent of the members, it was only natural that a woman—especially one with model-tier looks—would draw constant attention. Fortunately, I had already become an object of worship to them, and these computer science nerds had an almost fearful attitude toward women they couldn’t even approach. Yoo Ji-young’s figure wasn’t bad, but she didn’t dress up and, more importantly, wore glasses that sealed away her looks, so she didn’t attract much notice. Without the glasses, though, she was actually quite pretty. Pretty enough that I was already thinking about buying her contact lenses once they became more common. Ah, the other girl was Kim Jeong-a, Kim Jeong-jun’s younger sister. Unlike her brother, who had a fairly solid build for a nerd, she seemed to have received all the good genes and was quite petite. If I sat her on my lap, her head would come right up to my chin—perfect for using as a chin rest. In other words, she made an excellent attachment doll.
Pat pat.
“My hair’s getting messy…”
“But your head is in the perfect position for petting. Jeong-a is a baby, so I have to spoil you.”
“I’m not a baby!”
“Sure, sure, little one.”
“Hnggg…”
Of course, her treatment was basically that of a cute, harmless stray cat who happened to know how to code. She was adorable, but taking her home felt a bit much. Naturally, the guys kept their distance to avoid any misunderstandings. Thanks to that, things had stayed surprisingly peaceful for the 1990s. Honestly, when we first made the club, I’d been worried some guy would confess, get rejected, and storm out, but that hadn’t happened. Ah, on campus there were already rumors calling me the “Ice Witch of Computer Science” because I showed no interest in men. These people really were childish for their age. Still, it was convenient that they didn’t approach me. Though the part about me never looking at guys wasn’t entirely true. I just found it hard to talk to people first unless they were close to me…
***
After successfully finishing the first round of HTTP-related feedback—
“Everyone’s worked hard, so let’s take a break!”
“Finally…!”
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about something…”
Huh? The members’ expressions looked strange. They seemed anxious. Hey, it wasn’t anything bad.
“After I uploaded Tetris, I couldn’t check Mytel for a while because of circumstances. During that time, someone modified it.”
The modification was simple. It now supported two players. That was it.
“I’m going to hold a Tetris tournament based on that. We’ll see who’s the best at Tetris in our club.”
“Will there be prizes?”
“Hmm… I was thinking of buying ice cream with the activity fund, but maybe that’s not enough?”
“It’s plenty.”
What was that? I could’ve sworn I saw text in the Korean imperial font for a second. Anyway, the Tetris tournament went ahead without issue. It was a single-elimination tournament. Excluding one member who couldn’t attend and Park Seung-hyeop—who claimed he was busy translating but was obviously too scared to participate—eight people competed starting from the quarterfinals. I, with my Puyo Puyo experience, easily advanced to the semifinals. Kim Jeong-jun really had only played Tetris in his free time; even after his opponent was eliminated, he kept the game going for over two more minutes. That showed room for improvement. I’d have to develop Puyo Puyo-style Tetris someday. Kim Jeong-a put up a good fight but couldn’t overcome Yoo Ji-young’s wall. In the end, Lim Jin-bae advanced to the semifinals after a close match. In the semifinals, I faced Yoo Ji-young.
“The creator can’t enjoy their own game!”
“You have no idea how much Tetris I’ve played! Don’t regret losing.”
…Even I had to admit that sounded like something a third-rate villain would say. It was embarrassing. We started the game both feeling confident, but as the speed increased, my Puyo Puyo-trained instincts began to falter. The average stack height kept rising…
“Huh? Huh huh? Wait wait wait!!!!!”
One mistake, and I got buried.
“Aaaaaaaaah!!!!!!!!!!”
A scream. That one word summed up my state perfectly.
“You can’t even keep your own word, you scrub~ You made the game and still lost to someone else~”
Being scolded by a beautiful girl… was oddly thrilling. That aside, I was seriously annoyed. If I ever made Puyo Puyo-style Tetris, Yoo Ji-young would be the first person I challenged. Meanwhile, Yoo Ji-young seemed embarrassed after saying that too—her face had turned completely tomato-red. Lim Jin-bae fought hard but couldn’t overcome Kim Jeong-jun’s overwhelming physical reflexes. Still, Kim Jeong-jun seemed to be getting tired; his score was lower than before. Then came the long-awaited finals.
“Go, Kim Jeong-jun!”
“Go, Ji-young sunbae!!”
It wasn’t quite a world championship, but the atmosphere in the temporary clubroom-turned-computer lab was electric.
“The finals of the Greatest Tetris Tournament under the heavens… begin now!!!!!!”
At those words, both players started moving their hands furiously.
“Huh?”
Kim Jeong-jun made a mistake, and the I-piece that should have completed his build got blocked. He desperately cleared the obstruction and managed to place the I-piece, but in that time Yoo Ji-young had pulled ahead. Still, if she made even one small mistake, he could catch up…
“Ah.”
Kim Jeong-jun got greedy again, attempted an even bigger build than before, and once more the ceiling closed in. It was over. His skill hadn’t gone anywhere—he tried desperately to clear the blockage, but even the piece order refused to help him. In the end, the champion of the finals was Yoo Ji-young. After Kim Jeong-jun’s earlier dominance, the conclusion felt strangely hollow.
“Boo, you idiot!”
“And you call yourself the president? Resign!”
Kim Jeong-jun spent a long time being jeered at by the spectators.
“Then, Ji-young sunbae, what kind of ice cream would you like? I’ll go buy it.”
“Hmm… I can’t think of anything right now. Let’s go look and pick whatever looks good.”
***
Yoo Ji-young was in an extremely excited state. Of course, it wasn’t just because of the ice cream prize. Unlike the Mytel members who worshipped Yoon I-seo, Yoo Ji-young didn’t. When she had first been dragged into the club by Kim Jeong-jun and Lim Jin-bae, it was simply because she wanted to try the rapidly growing field of digital design. Naturally, she hadn’t felt the weight of Yoon I-seo’s achievements, and the members’ endless worship had just looked like pathetic male behavior to her. But the Yoon I-seo she met in the liberal arts class was different. She understood otaku culture from Japan, and more importantly, she could draw. Starting from the eyes, the rough sketch she completed in an hour had already far surpassed Yoo Ji-young’s own level. That was why Yoo Ji-young didn’t worship Yoon I-seo. If anything, it was closer to admiration. And right now, Yoo Ji-young was walking hand-in-hand with the object of that admiration toward the supermarket near campus to buy ice cream. Even she couldn’t quite grasp her own feelings. She had thought her love existed only in the two-dimensional world of paper, yet her heart was pounding harder now than when she looked at her favorite character. Of course, she didn’t realize this and simply felt confused and flustered.
“You pick first. I’ll go look for snacks in the back.”
When Yoon I-seo disappeared from her side, something felt empty. The sudden chill in her chest—was it from the cold air coming out of the ice cream freezer? Of course, Yoo Ji-young wouldn’t realize that until much later.
“Did you pick?”
“Yeah, a Ssangssang Bar.”
“…Not many people eat that alone.”
“Who said I’m eating it alone?”
“Huh?”
“Here.”
Yoo Ji-young tore off one half of the Ssangssang Bar and shoved it straight into Yoon I-seo’s mouth.
“Behhh…”
Yoon I-seo’s mouth was forced open, making a rather undignified sound. She flailed for a moment before managing to grab the stick and take a bite.
“I bought it for you to eat, so why are you giving it to me—”
“Why do you think? Just eat what you’re given.”
Yoo Ji-young fanned herself with her hand, probably because summer was starting to heat up, and answered casually. ‘So this is the dignity of an older woman…?’ That day, Yoon I-seo came to understand the charm of someone older.