Notebook Games and Entertainment Scouts
The police thought that was the end of it. A month had passed since I started at Sinbit Middle School. I'd settled into a relaxed daily routine, to the point where the incident on my second day of school felt like a distant memory.
"Hey, Gangshik. We're friends—don't you think you're being a bit too strict?"
"N-no, I mean, even so, I c-can't just accept every s-suggestion."
"Come on, there has to be some way."
"...D-Donghu, calm down. This is just a n-notebook game."
"That's exactly what drives me crazy about it."
AAA-grade genius game developer Na Gangshik, who'd go on to create a game that swept the GOTY awards. His notebook game lived up to that title—it was insanely fun. Just simple Stickman movements on notebook paper. How could something so basic be this addictive? I wanted to whale on it with microtransactions, but Gangshik's game philosophy was ironclad.
"P-paid items shouldn't affect in-game p-performance..."
"Even if I buy you cup bokki today? Or a Kokko Burger? What about a Big Mac?"
"W-well... maybe I could add c-custom cape and weapon skins..."
"...You're really strict, huh."
"S-sorry, D-Donghu. Even if you're my c-closest f-friend, I can't bend on this."
Even while stuttering, his eyes sparkled when it came to game ops. That's what it means to have a passion. People with clear goals always looked cool no matter when you saw them.
I glanced at my FaceStorm account while listening to him. Followers: 5,000. Not even a month since I made it. Even without any engagement, just posting my face had racked up an impressive number.
'Compared to my past life, it's pretty modest.'
Back then, SNS was in full swing. This era was still the early stages before the explosion, so it made sense that numbers lagged behind.
'Popular kids probably hit around 30,000.'
I hadn't even bothered with Cyworld—it was on its way out anyway, and monetizing there was iffy.
"Donghu, don't you feel bad for Gangshik? Quit whining and pass your turn. Break time's short—why drag it out?"
Kim Minhyuk cut in while I was lost in thought. Kim Minhyuk. The guy who'd stuck to me relentlessly after getting beat by Park Whatever's crew, begging to be friends. He hadn't done anything too bad in his past life, so I'd let him hang around.
'Plus, thanks to him snitching, we got the police involved and sorted it.'
After I made Park Whatever—self-proclaimed king of Sinbit Middle freshmen—puke his guts out, he'd planned to bring upperclassmen to jump me. But Minhyuk ratted him out, and the plan reached my ears. Before they could lay a hand on me, they had a chat with the cops first.
Juvenile offenders went up to age 14. Some of his crew were third-years, so they got hauled straight to the station. Word spread through school, triggering internal discipline hearings.
'No one got hurt, so it ended on a good note.'
The real issue came after. Living in the age of romance and delinquency, it turned out they'd stolen bikes and scooters too. The scandal blew up, drawing a swarm of police to Sinbit Middle and wiping out the delinquents in one clean sweep.
Looking at Minhyuk now, glued to the notebook game beside me, it felt surreal.
"Do they even know your snitching was the spark that lit it all?"
"Spark? What's that? Using fancy words again."
Minhyuk rolled his 20-sided die as he spoke. It landed on 17.
"Yes!"
With that, he monopolized the iron ore vein. The very one I'd tried bribing for with a Big Mac. Damn.
'What makes this notebook game so damn fun?'
Na Gangshik, you're a game dev genius.
'But man, being this handsome sure is convenient.'
Sometimes, chilling like this brought back my gloomy past-life self. Being handsome meant steady chats with Shin Yerim, and half the girls in class squealing whenever our eyes met and I smiled. Living the light novel dream I'd only fantasized about—it was thrilling, yet oddly bittersweet.
'Think positive.'
Dwelling on the negative wouldn't change a thing.
"By the way, everyone decided on their CA activities yet?"
Minhyuk's question reminded me. Right, Saturday clubs.
'Back when Saturdays were still play days.'
The five-day school week started in 2012, so before that, we had school every other Saturday—usually morning classes swapped for club time.
"I-I'm doing c-computer club."
Gangshik seemed rock-solid, his path set. That unwavering gaze was almost funny, like a dev badge of certainty.
"What about you, Donghu? I'm planning to go wherever you do."
"Hmm, club activities..."
In my old life, I'd joined the book club—loved reading in the library. But with this fresh start, I wanted to try something new.
'Broadcast dance? Nah. Band? Maybe band.'
Band club. Stars of talent shows on school trips and festivals. Felt like I could pull it off now.
"...Band club?"
"Band? What can you even play?"
"Me...? Vocals?"
"Cool. Guess I'll do band too."
I chuckled hollowly at his seamless decision. Still can't shake those sidekick habits, huh.
While Kim Donghu was deciding on his Saturday activities, ST Enter scout Jin Kyungmi was staring holes into her computer screen.
"Kyungmi, what're you glued to? I've been calling you."
"Sorry! I think I found a real gem."
"A gem? Who?"
Instead of answering, Kyungmi shoved her screen over.
The boy on it looked incredibly young. Middle schooler for sure, just shedding baby fat. But that face's potential was unreal. Impossible to pin down with words like "handsome." Demonic allure was more like it—beyond hot, something hypnotic. Like a gem shifting colors right before your eyes. How could a human face be like this?
Which made her doubt it.
"This is all edited, right?"
It felt too detached from reality. Years in the biz made her cynical—how many "FaceStorm hotties" turned out unrecognizable in person? Even the best looks get photoshopped to hell.
"Outrageous. Even for a kid..."
"I thought the same at first, so I downloaded the images and checked. No edits."
"What?"
"Bare face. For real."
"...A kid this good-looking in Korea?"
"Yup."
"Why no DMs?"
"Blocked everything. Messages outright blocked. Comments too—probably knows he's hot."
"Then scout him in person."
"Was about to get approval... Can I go?"
Her team leader laughed in disbelief.
"Why're you still sitting? You crazy?"
"Yes sir! I'll snag him quick!"
And ST Enter wasn't alone. YK and JHY Enter were thinking the same. The big three agencies, plus actor powerhouses CybersQA, SaesakOnamu, and Pulledi—all eyeing Kim Donghu's FaceStorm. Six companies zeroed in on one place: Sinbit Middle School.
After school, on the way home.
"Kim Donghu! If you're doing band club, you should've told me too!"
"What? You'd do it anyway—broadcast dance, right?"
"Pfft, hilarious. Why would I? On what basis?"
I was getting an earful from Shin Yerim. Post-delinquent purge, she'd switch classes soon to ours—same one as Park Seokgu was the main trigger, scattering his crew across classes.
"Wait, do you even play any instruments?"
"Nope."
"Then why join?"
"You?"
"Vocals for me."
"Then piano, keys for me."
"Didn't you just say you can't?"
"Czerny 30."
Child actor gigs: piano, taekwondo, Kumon. Guess piano stuck for her.
"Impressive..."
But walking home, I noticed—we stuck close, arms almost linked, though not quite.
"Kim Donghu, you're blowing up on FaceStorm."
"Am I?"
"Yeah. Face like yours—don't scouts hit you up?"
"Blocked Fetok."
"Why?"
"Annoying."
Kept it open a week—too much spam, so blocked. Ads weren't big yet, no real contacts. Ghosting was fine.
'SNS boom's a bit off.'
Had a Nutube channel ready just in case. Vlogs no-go with weak privacy norms, but maybe gaming streams?
'Gameplay next year—that one.'
LoL. The 2011 juggernaut that unified Korean gaming. With my knowledge, ranker easy.
'But that's later.'
Nothing now. As I stepped forward—
Rrring.
My phone buzzed. Unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Hey, weren't you curious about me? Am I the one calling first?"
"Uh...?"
A familiar voice. My childhood desk-mate's, a bit more mature, blasting from the phone.
"Kim Donghu, you're insane."