Shitty Life
My life was fucking shitty. Life is a bitch. That's what I thought every goddamn day.
"What the hell is this planning document? Assistant Manager Lee. Have you lost your fucking mind? Don't you want to make money anymore?"
In this shitty little company, my same-age team leader ragged on me every single day. And the really fucked-up part? The planning document I'd submitted today wasn't even bad. This asshole just wanted to nitpick and chew me out. And the reason this prick was doing it?
It was because of a woman.
"Ji-hoon, you know the production performance report is due today, right?"
"Ah, yeah."
"Don't drag your feet and end up pulling an all-nighter. Make sure you submit it to the team leader on time."
"Got it…."
Kim Seon-ha, Assistant Manager. The one and only flower in our shitty little company. Pretty face, huge tits—every guy there was dying to fuck her. Even Park Jae-jun, who'd just reamed me out, was the same.
For the record, I wasn't drooling over her like the others. I thought she was shitty too.
Tsk…
"……."
No chit-chat, just cold business. Her eyes were ice-cold, and even after she'd said her piece, she clicked her tongue softly. Something about me must've pissed her off. Thanks to that, I figured she was hot but still a bitch. No matter how pretty she was or how big her tits, that attitude made me despise her.
More than that, though.
She was my coworker from the same hiring batch. And she'd gotten promoted to assistant manager first. So now she outranked me. Naturally, that dragged my own performance reviews down, breeding resentment.
And the shittiness didn't end when I clocked out of the company.
Vroom…
"Sir, we've arrived."
"Uh…, ah, yeah."
The stench of booze. A luxury car that clashed with my situation. A few bucks shoved into my hand after driving. "Ha…, fuck…."
Then the pathetic scramble to check for a fare heading my way home. Even the weird happiness from snagging a good ride felt shitty.
'If only I could just rest after work….'
I only took Sundays off. Monday through Friday at the company, then designated driving on nights without overtime. Saturdays were full-time at the beer hall. Why work myself to death like this? Oh, there was a reason.
"Fuck…, you shitty bastard…, just wait till I see you…."
My dad had run off after racking up loan shark debt. Two hundred million won, no less. Now I was busting my ass nonstop to cover the insane daily interest. Wasn't it illegal to collect a parent's debt from the kid? Sure it was. Problem was, loan sharks acted like the law didn't apply to them.
After one night when they shoved me into a drum barrel and threatened me by the seaside, I couldn't say shit. Just kept paying up.
"When the hell does this end…."
Sighing, I trudged down the street. But today felt good, at least. I'd scored a fare heading home, so I could get back easy.
"Fuck…."
I hated how relieved I was about that. If only I could live like normal people. Just that much would make me happy.
"Did you call for a driver?"
"……Huh, yeah?"
I headed to the spot and approached the guy who'd apparently called the service. Stumbling in front of the car, waiting for someone. It was a woman.
'…A celebrity?'
Her looks hit me for a second. Sleek, classy outfit, pretty features. Killer body too—one that could go toe-to-toe with Kim Seon-ha at the company.
But my surprise didn't end there.
"Huh? Uh…, wait, you look familiar…?"
"……."
The drunk woman stared at me hard while staggering. Her disheveled state almost threw me off, but facing her straight on, I realized who she was.
"Ah…, aah…! You, Choco Milk! Wow, seeing you here? Ah, what was it…, your name…."
"……I think you've got the wrong guy. Anyway, did you call for a driver?"
"What? Wrong guy…? Hahaha! What bullshit, fuuuck…, you are Choco Milk. Hey, long time no see—won't even say hi?"
"……Did you call for a driver?"
"Kkh, Choco Milk doing designated driving? Wow, that's sad…. You ran errands nonstop in school, and now you're driving drunks? Kyahahaha!"
"……."
"Hey, here's the keys. Fuck, seeing you after so long makes me so happy. Gotta tell the gang. C'mere, Choco Milk. Photo time."
Click! Click!
She sidled up and snapped pics of us without asking. Then cackled as she checked them.
'Life, fuck….'
Jeong Ha-rin. That was her name. And she was one of the people from high school who'd made my life hell. Hell, the ringleader.
"Hey, what're you doing? Hurry up! You're tanking my rating."
I stood there, fists clenched, weighing options. Option one: tell her to fuck off and walk. Option two: shut up and drive. Heart said one. Brain said two.
My choice?
"……We'll head out."
"Haa, hehe, riding in a car driven by Choco Milk. This is hilarious."
Luckily, reason won. My hands shook on the wheel. The fancy brand logo in the center. Plush interior. One of those new German luxury rides worth nearly a hundred million won.
Vroom…
The car glided smoothly—too smoothly. It all felt like a dream, crushed by harsh reality filling me with misery.
"Hey, tip."
"……."
"Aren't I super nice? Back in the day, I never tipped."
"Th-thanks…."
"Bye-bye~ Wow, the booze is wearing off. I'll call you for the reunion, so come, okay~?"
"……."
The booze wearing off my ass. She was still slurring and mocking me.
"……."
I stared at the few 50,000-won bills in my hand.
"Ha, haha…."
Shitty. But I was glad to take it. Enough to skip a day of driving.
"Fuck…."
Cursing, I trudged off and glanced up at the luxury officetel she'd entered. Closer to my place than I thought.
"……."
My life was shitty.
Tap, tap.
After dropping Jeong Ha-rin, I got home and plopped down at the computer. Cramped, rundown studio apartment. Beat-up PC. It screamed my life story.
"Yes, boss. I'm not feeling well, so it might be tough…. Sorry. For calling so late. Yes, sorry. Call me as a sub next time. Okay."
Tomorrow was Saturday. Skipping the beer hall shift.
Thud.
I tossed the old smartphone aside after the call.
"At least the shittiness paid off."
On the way home, I'd grabbed soju. Half a fried chicken sat beside it. A luxury I never splurged on normally. First time in ages, thanks to that bitch Jeong Ha-rin's tip.
"Gotta live somehow…."
Gulp.
Pathetic words as I poured soju down my throat. I tore into a chicken leg next.
"……."
The booze buzzing through me, the greasy chicken flavor. Honestly, this moment was happy. But I knew it. This bliss just let me forget my miserable life for a second.
Tap, tap.
Savoring it, I fired up the computer.
"Been a while."
My one hobby: games. Even my one day off, Sunday, went mostly to sleep, so yeah, long time no play.
Familiar OST kicked in.
"Whoa…, what mods? Feels like a whole new game."
The game was UnderDream. Old enough to run on my junk PC. Nearly ten years I'd played it. And the reason I stuck with this ancient game that long? Mods.
Half-jokingly, people said the devs sold tools and let users make the game. Modding scene was insane. Kept my old rig fresh forever.
Munch, munch…
Chowing chicken, sipping booze, I browsed the UnderDream mod community. Everyone showing off their setups.
By the time chicken and soju were gone…
"Alright, time to play."
Buzzed and hyped, I hit launch. I'd installed some promising mods from the site while drinking. Expectations high. A rare break, after all.
"Gonna bury these shitty memories in the game~."
Humming drunkenly as it loaded.
Dudum~!
…Ping.
Game crashed.
"Ah, fuck! CTD you piece of shit!!"
Mod conflict. Panicking, I uninstalled the new ones one by one, relaunching.
Dudum~!
…Ping.
No dice. Even after wiping all the new mods.
"……."
No sigh left in me. Maybe the buzz?
"Ha, haha."
Just a short laugh. Happens all the time. Mods tangle up, break old ones too.
"…My life's like this, fuck."
Screech.
Leaned the chair back, stared at the ceiling blankly. At least I had chicken and booze? 'Tired of consoling myself with this crap.'
Positivity my ass. It comes from good circumstances. Otherwise, just pathetic.
Clink.
Grabbed the soju bottle off the desk. No all-nighter gaming. Chugged straight from it.
Gulp, gulp.
Hot burn down my throat to my gut. Bad for the stomach, whatever. Just wanna pass out fast.
Thud.
I flopped onto the mattress.
"Ah…."
Body heating up, stomach churning, eyes on the ceiling.
"Wanna win the lottery…."
The magic words I muttered whenever shit hit the fan. But magic ain't real. Just muttering.
The next morning.
"What…."
I opened my eyes, sat up, and stared blankly at the scene.
Installation completed!
Still hungover…?