March 31st (3)

Byeongtae uploaded a photo.

And the contents of that photo were…

A picture of an empty corner of his room.

…What the hell is this idiot doing?

The second Seokho cracked that joke, a chill ran down my spine. Had Byeongtae actually seen a ghost? The guy always did look a little spiritually drained, so it wasn't completely out of the question.

I was just about to tell him to start taking some herbal supplements when Byeongtae fired off messages like a machine gun.

The second we saw ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that message, our responses might as well have been pre-written.

We were half-teasing him, but he didn't reply for a long time. In the silence, messages started piling up about whether the guy had actually lost his mind…

Byeongtae, you absolute…

He'd finally lost it for real!

I told him to cut it out with the isekai junk. He kept insisting how fun it was watching some overpowered guy get a status window and smash everything in sight — and now look at him. What a mess.

Poor bastard!

Ugh…

I could still hear that ear-splitting voice from this afternoon ringing in my skull. And this bastard Byeongtae had the nerve to pull that trigger?

Even after everything that had happened that afternoon, I still didn't believe him.

No — I didn't want to believe him. Because…

More than that — poor Minsu, the guy whose girlfriend got NTR'd, had been quiet this whole time, and something about it felt off.

For a split second, I felt a gut instinct to call him. Out of this entire pack of trash, he was the one I could actually have a real conversation with — the only one who'd ever seriously comforted me, telling me I'd land a good job someday.

Tap-tap. I tapped my phone and called him right away. Rrring, rrring…

Click!

He picked up faster than I expected.

"Minsu."

"Why are you reading the chat and not replying? Where'd your manners go, man."

Something about Minsu's tone was off. He sounded hesitant, fumbling for words — but more than that…

Hm? I could hear something. The scratch of a pen on paper. Scritch-scratch.

"Huh?"

"Huh? Hey, hey—!"

Click! He actually hung up on me. This bastard?

What the hell was going on today? I headed straight back into the group chat.

The moment I opened it, Minsu uploaded a photo like he'd been waiting for me.

????

Why the hell did this guy suddenly upload something he'd written out on a sheet of A4 paper?

Was it an apology letter? Who did he wrong? Please tell me it wasn't a suicide note.

…Well, the text was legible enough that I could tell in a heartbeat it wasn't any of those things.

But the contents were so completely absurd that my fingers froze over the keyboard. I had no idea what to even type.

The one who broke our not-quite-silence was Byeongtae, who'd been spouting nonsense this whole time.

Byeongtae was backing Minsu up so hard he was even making typos.

Okay, what the hell was going on with Minsu and Byeongtae? Why were the two of them suddenly running some ultra-hilarious prank?

Minsu had been talking about pranks earlier, and now he was in cahoots with Byeongtae?

…But then why weren't Siban and Seokho saying anything either?

Finally the two of them answered — but something about them felt off too.

…The conversation was getting weird.

Suddenly all four of them — everyone except me — were running some ultra-hilarious coordinated prank.

These bastards all had jobs and I didn't, and more than that… more than that…!

Why? WHY, you ask? You fucking—!

I hammered out the messages, seething.

That game… Brave Saga…!

Of course I knew it was famous. Of course I knew it was a god-tier masterpiece!

But of all the rotten luck — of all the times — when that game was at the absolute peak of its fame, I was stuck in the military grinding through eighteen months of hell…!

Just me. Only me! Why always just me!!!

Now they were straight-up roasting me over a game I'd never even gotten to play.

You absolute bastards… I'd settle this later in a fighting game. I'd beat them so senseless they wouldn't dare touch a keyboard again. Teabag them so hard they'd catch a chair shot. Sons of bitches!

Right in the middle of the roasting, Minsu hit the brakes again.

And this time, I was grateful. Thank you! Thank you for cutting off that godawful train of thought.

"Hhk…!?"

In the chat, my friends went quiet. In reality, a sound escaped my throat.

March 31st.

10:10 p.m.

An empty soju bottle from earlier lay discarded in the corner of my room.

I didn't panic the moment I heard what my friends said. Instead, clinging to a desperate no way, no way, I tore through internet communities and dug through breaking news.

They had to be in on it together. All four of them teaming up to mess with me. That was the last scrap ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of hope I held onto as I scoured every corner of the web.

And then I despaired.

On the communities I frequented, posts starting with titles like [Weird text floating in front of my eyes — is this an isekai situation?] had flooded every board, packed with verification posts from people who'd experienced the exact same thing.

On the portal news sites, article after article about the letters and numbers that had appeared in the sky — and that voice — were pouring out in a chaotic torrent. Reports of strange text suddenly materializing before people's eyes had made the news as well.

I took it all in, and understood that nothing remained in my heart but despair.

The entire world was griefing me now. That was the only feeling left.

Tomorrow the world would suddenly end, and only people who had an account for a game I'd never even played would get an 80% chance of survival.

There wasn't a more ridiculous, forced premise in existence.