2. The Installed App
-So, our proud Cheongsol High students...
Yawn.
First high school graduation, and it's this boring?
The principal's speech—or whatever it was—had been droning on the big screen for a full hour now.
Still, it was my first time, so it felt kinda special.
Fresh-faced, so fresh-faced.
Turn it this way, that way.
Just a sea of excited faces from kids stepping into the real world for the first time.
But once they hit adulthood? Fuck all that.
'Maybe I shoulda studied harder?'
Kids hate school as teens, bolt outta there. Then life hits, and suddenly books sound cozy...
Not some bullshit like that.
Just deprivation.
A thirty-year-old loser's inferiority complex over shit he never got to try.
-And with that, we conclude the 38th Cheongsol High Graduation Ceremony!
"Woooah!"
"Eeeee-yaaang-gyaek!"
"Kroooook!"
The second the principal wrapped up, monkey howls erupted around me.
Guess they loved it that much.
I pushed up my greasy, slipping glasses and pulled out my buzzing phone from my pocket.
Who's texting me?
Mom? She said maybe, maybe not.
Guess she couldn't make it. I hit hold.
[Loading...]
Right at the top of my phone's home screen, some unknown app was popping up.
What the hell?
Looked like it was updating or something—spinning like mad.
I poked it a few times. Nothing.
Tilted my head, then tapped an icon without thinking and shoved the phone back in my pocket.
Right now, more important shit...
"Follow us, you fucking loser."
"Mm..."
Time to educate these assholes.
*
Murmur murmur murmur.
They strutted ahead like they owned the place, me trailing behind like a total nerd.
Watching them march so boldly, ignoring all the stares—damn, all the future delivery drone girls and room-namu we always hunted are right here.
"Oh! Jun-woo, where you headed?"
"Graduation, right? Gonna take some pics to celebrate."
The big lug up front answered some lady teacher's question lightly, then jerked his chin at me.
Our eyes met—the teacher's twitching nervously. I nodded like no worries and followed.
Honestly, wanted to yell for help and bolt.
But it felt pathetic, and dodging now would just make it endless later.
So.
We ended up in some dingy alley by the trash dump.
Teachers must've given up on it—neat stacks of cans and ashtrays said this was their turf.
And that's when my eyes locked with that girl from earlier, the one we'd scrapped with outside.
She smirked at me.
Fuck, maybe shove my dick right up her ass.
Her uniform clung tight—caught my eye.
I was imagining hiking up that skirt, slamming into her wide-open pussy raw—
When Jun-woo, the big bastard next to her, growled at me.
"Hey, you fucking punk. What's with you? Suddenly awakened or some shit?"
"...Awakened?"
I parroted back, pondering.
Drugs? Diet pills? Amphetamines?
Then it hit—wait, asking a nerd if he's on drugs? What country is this?
...Kids, I guess.
Ignorance ain't a crime. I answered kindly.
"I don't do drugs."
"What?"
"I'm not a junkie. You guys shouldn't try it out of curiosity either—ruins your life. Blow up balloons or fuck more instead..."
"You fucking prick!"
Thwack!
????
His sudden kick nailed my gut. I tumbled into the dirt.
Still didn't get it.
Why...?
First hit in like ten years. Blown away.
Stomach churning, I clutched it—the pain lingered way longer than expected.
But the angrier I got, the hotter my head burned.
I glared up at him.
"Why? I answered."
"...What?"
"No, you fuck! I answered your damn question! Isn't it normal not to hit someone after they do?!"
Blood rushed to my head with every word.
I gave a straight answer, even tossed in life advice—and this is the thanks?
"You hit people with no reason, you fucking bastards!?"
Outraged, I snarled. His meaty fist flew at me.
Slap!
Cheek stung.
...Did I just get hit again?
Dazed for a sec, then he crouched, grabbed my hair, forced eye contact.
"You're hopeless. Time to get beat."
"No, what the—"
Slap! Slap! Slap!
Nonstop slaps.
Every thick palm sent my head whipping, burning heat rising from my cheeks.
Even mid-beating, I couldn't comprehend.
Getting pounded by this shrimp pissed me off and hurt, but why was this pathetic body frozen?
What the fuck.
Couldn't counter—this pig body wouldn't budge. Infuriating.
And not even 1v1—with his crew watching, humiliation doubled.
Square horn-rims long gone; vision blurry.
How long?
Another five minutes of pounding, then he panted, stood.
"Hoo. You fuck. Had to ruin graduation."
Relieved grin, turned to his buddies.
I just gaped like an idiot at his back.
Twitch.
They were almost gone—sure I wouldn't get more hits.
Finally, my stiff limbs moved.
Shaking hands dove into my pocket.
[Recording]
Phone home screen: playback list.
Blank-faced, I alternated between the screen and his fading back, then stood.
Looked around like a maniac.
Stone... stone...
If I reported with this recording, they'd get investigated.
I'd turned it on just in case—didn't expect this.
But.
Why bother?
No CCTV, five-plus of them.
This "great evidence"? They'd deny it, settle for chump change.
Better to give it back myself.
Clunk.
I gripped the stone propping the ashtray with both hands, advanced on him.
"Why'd you hit me?"
"Fuck off."
"Wasn't it something about Ji-soo earlier?"
Closing in.
He snickered.
Thud. Thud. Tatatatak.
I charged, smashed the brick full-force into the delinquent's skull.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
"Wha-what the fuck, you psycho!"
"...KyaAaAaK!"
"Hey, hey, stop him! Grab this fucker!"
"Let go! You fuck! Die! Die, you fuck! Die!"
[Pioneering the Future with an Advanced Campus]
About seven months later.
Thick iron bars clanged open, winter chill hitting my face.
Entrance buzzed: sobs over tofu gifts, moms hugging sons tight, corner smokers chatting.
Clothes too thin for the cold, I huffed breath-warmth, scanned around.
"Fucking freezing."
When's Mom coming...
"Hyung-chul!"
Turned at the thick voice—a guy towering twenty centimeters over me approached.
"Oh, hyung."
"What you doing alone, punk."
"What else? Waiting for my wife."
"Crazy bastard."
Yoon Kang-chul, thirty-year-old active gangster, my cellmate.
"Want one?"
"Duh, hyung."
I took his cig, lit up.
First smoke in ages—head spun, knees buckled.
"Hoo... fucking gold..."
"Nutjob. What's a twenty-year-old talking like that for."
"Haha, that's my charm."
"Anyway. What you gonna do now?"
"Hoo... yeah, no clue."
We bonded over my nightlife tales.
Bored prison, my spicy stories sold like hotcakes.
Great jerk material, gripping plot.
He got pinched instead of his gang, now running a solid Gangnam spot post-release.
Hence the clinginess.
"Anyway, nothing lined up? Call me. You got the number."
"Yeah, here."
I fished out my notebook, waved it.
"OK. Hyung's out."
Yoon Kang-chul vanished quick into a waiting chick's car.
Stamped out my butt, watched—then distant engine rumble.
"Son..!"
First reunion in seven months. Mom.
*
Mom beamed the second I hopped in.
I sat quiet in back, eyed her.
Less than half a year, but she looked five years older.
Used to pass for late twenties. Now mid-thirties.
Tch... so that's why you offed yourself.
Heart ached more I thought.
Kept it cool, listened to her chatter, powered on my phone after half a year on the charger.
Missed calls: all nobodies.
Swiped 'em away, checked news first.
Long time no tech—even lame news felt fun.
Then, new alert popped.
Ding!
Please check the installed app.