Chapter 3. 0% X 0%
Three little dots blinked for a long while before vanishing. No new message came. Sera just stared down at her screen, motionless. Only the green online indicator from her match persisted.
In the end, the first to arrive was the system notification.
> Would you like to proceed with scheduling an in-person meeting?
> [Recommended: Priority registration available if registered within 48 hours]
"…Register."
Junyoung was seeing the exact same notification. He felt pathetic for letting a single number shake him like this, but with YES already pressed, there was no turning back.
A short message arrived moments later.
Junyoung's fingers froze. Park benches every evening filled with couples wrapped around each other. Public intimacy zones marked on the grass instead of picnic blankets. Breath-mingled laughter carrying from afar. The subway even had a dedicated Public Intimacy Zone car. Next to the doors, under the government logo, was this phrase:
Voluntary intimate acts are converted into social contributions.
Every commute, passing that car, he'd glimpse half-naked bodies through the glass—bodies intertwined or faces buried in shoulders. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. No one embarrassed, no one hiding. That was the healthy landscape of this country.
Imagining his own face in that scene, Junyoung's ear tips began to heat up.
'Then… then.'
His face burning hot, ears fully red now—he ducked his head in shame. People embraced in parks, cafe back seats, subway cars, contributing to society. And he, the 0% who'd only ever watched from afar. The fact hit him sharper than ever, making his heart pound uselessly.
Junyoung sent the message as businesslike as possible, masking his utter idiocy, then finally exhaled. He sweated bullets just typing one line—how the hell did normal people meet up and do it?
He scooted his chair back a bit. Outside noises sharpened suddenly. After getting chewed out by his senior for slacking, then fixating on this… program, lunch hour had snuck up. Out in the plaza, couples naturally embraced. Everyday for them, alien world for him. A world he could delay no longer—he had to step inside.
"Senior~!"
"Hup—!"
Junyoung nearly leaped from his chair, whipping around. His heart still raced to the chat's countdown rhythm.
At the office entrance stood the department's youngest clerk.
"Assistant Clerk, aren't you eating? Everyone's heading down."
"I, uh—"
His throat locked first. Junyoung fake-coughed and continued.
"I'll eat separately today!"
His voice boomed louder than needed. Heads turned from the few still in the office.
Ah, screwed.
His ears flushed red again.
"Ah… yeah? Why?"
"Well, uh, work's piling up— no, no, just… yeah… separately…"
Words derailed. Work? He'd been glued to the chat.
The junior tilted her head, then shrugged "Okaay…" and left.
Only then did Junyoung flop back into his chair. Throat parched, he chugged water and hacked into coughs.
'Calm down, calm…'
Even then, the chat's green light glowed. …She's watching. Dots appeared below, vanished. Appeared, vanished.
Junyoung's heart dropped.
'What’s she typing?'
'Did I say something wrong?'
He reread his message.
Somewhere without people.
…Why add that? Without people sounded too blatant. No, just matching conditions.
He dimmed his monitor needlessly. Sweaty palms made the mouse slip.
Then, dots reappeared.
Public dorms, certified facilities, government-partnered private rooms. Free or cheap, but all logged entries. Inviting a stranger home? Names, times, stays recorded.
He sweated profusely. He knew—of course. His department processed tons based on those logs.
But… 'How would I know discreet spots?'
His simple "solve complaints" brain tangled—then flashed: the court building layout. External passage linking main and annex. Deserted at night. And… emergency stairs. No logs, no CCTV. Safety corridor blind spot. Staff barely used it.
Junyoung's heart plummeted.
'Why think of that.'
But—no records. No entry logs like public dorms. Inside the court… just pass security. Familiar turf.
He swallowed dryly. Fingers trembled over keys, typing/deleting.
'Emergency stairs—' Too suspicious.
'Quiet spot inside the building—' Worse.
Sweat trickled temples. Why so tense? Nothing's happened.
Finally, cautiously, dry as dust:
Heart exploded post-send.
'Passageway.' Sounds insane. But true.
No reply seconds later—but dots.
… … …
Ears red again. Explain. Not weird intentions.
Enter pressed—his heartbeat thundered in his ears.
This screams 'meet in the stairs?' Creepy as hell.
He covered his face.
'Sounds like a total perv.'
But seconds later—
Junyoung blinked. Safer. The word made his heart flutter oddly.
Sera bit her lip on the sofa, puffing her cheeks for courage before typing.
He drew a long breath. P-please… No 48 or 72-hour grace for her.
'No backing out…'
After messages on passing security—
Irreversible now.
"……."
Junyoung stared blankly at his monitor. 7:30. Annex stairs. Emergency stairs. Court.
His heart, once subdued, now thundered massively.
Thump, thump.
"Uwaaah, what have I dooone—!!!"
He couldn't hold it—yelled aloud. Court emergency stairs. With a woman. Tonight. Dinner time.
"T-Today…"
Mouth cotton-dry.
"…I lose it?"
Saying it made him cringe pathetically, hands clutching face. Nothing happened yet, but her coming for real sank in. And time sped up weirdly from there.
Work piled: complaints, filing, data entry. Junyoung worked mechanically. Head full of 7:30, hands flipping docs frantically amid worry.
Crushing the wave—
"Alright, everyone. Time to clock out~"
Office emptied. Under fluorescent lights, "gotta finish this" solo—Junyoung sat staring ceiling.
"Wait."
A thought struck.
"…Am I dirty?"
Tense since morning, sweating… skipped proper lunch. Body odor? Disappoint her?
Heart raced.
"No, can't."
Trauma creeping—he bolted up.
On-call room next to staff shower. For overtimers, usually empty off-peak.
Glanced around, slipped in. Locked door, exhaled.
"Please… please."
Lukewarm water poured. He scrubbed meticulously—shoulders, neck, behind ears. Twice, thrice. Soap till skin stung.
'What if I smell?'
'Sweat lingering?'
'What if—'
Thoughts chained. Toweling, mirror-checked: average face, tense. Sucked gut, released. "Overdoing it."
Sighed. But today… maybe end of 0% for real.
Redid shirt, buttons trembling. Time? 7:12.
"……."
18 minutes left.
'Leather jacket… she said.'
Swallowed. Too early = desperate creep…
7:26.
"It's fine."
Junyoung strode annex hall, steps loud. Shoulders back, chest out, chin up.
'No big deal.' Everyone does it. Plaza, subway, theaters.
Just state-fed girl, quiet room, consensual, by procedure… That's it.
"I'm an adult."
Muttering, steps wider. Forcing confidence. Don't crush under 0%. 29, normal man. Gut sucked.
Ignoring pounding heart, reached hall end. Emergency door: gray steel. Mundane usually, but huge today—steps slowed to turtle crawl, eyeing handle.
'Cold probably.'
Opening means… real. Real meeting. Alone with woman.
Heart leaped up.
'She might not show. Scared too…'
Comforting self—then, faint sound inside door.
"Eut…"
Junyoung's breath stopped. Woman's voice. Small, high. Right beyond.
Heart thud—no, slam down. Or bursting? Chest hammered.
Eyes wide. Turn back now?
'Not too late.'
Countdown, checkboxes. 72 hours. …0%. Flashed mind.
"……."
Hand shook. Forced deep breath. In, hold… grabbed handle without exhale.
Cold metal on palm. Heart roaring ears.
'Fine.'
'Just open.'
'Person.'
Teeth gritted.
Click.
Pushed door open.
"……Ah."