The game’s timeline runs from the end of first year of high school through second year, and if you go the long route, all the way to graduation. Once that period is up, it’s automatic game over. Even setting aside Choi Woosu’s ending, he was still a capture target — which meant I’d have to keep seeing him throughout that entire stretch of time. It was genuinely enough to make me want to lose my mind.
After living such a miserable life in reality, couldn’t you have at least let me live my best life inside a game, you stupid piece of trash!
Ding. A soft notification sound chimed and a palm-sized system window appeared on the desk.
[ System ]
[^^]
“Wow……”
This little sh*t was absolutely insufferable. Was it messing with me right now?
I hadn’t said a word out loud, and yet this popped up — which meant the system apparently had the ability to read my thoughts too, and that was deeply unpleasant. Being read was already irritating enough, but the response was just a smug little eye-smile? My mood soured twice over. That thing was definitely doing it on purpose.
You’re so damn annoying.
[ System ]
[Who, me?]
Yes, you. I’m not in the mood for games. Get lost while I’m still being nice.
[ System ]
[ㅠㅠ]
Go away. Don’t show up unless I call you, and don’t go reading my thoughts whenever you feel like it. Got it?
At the firm order to get lost, the system window vanished without a fuss. At least it actually left when told to. It was a little unsettling that it hadn’t given a clear answer about not reading my thoughts anymore, but since I’d be dealing with this thing for a long time, I’d have to bring it up again at some point. My distrust of the system had already deepened considerably, and I was fairly certain it would pull something like this again.
The profile of Choi Woosu focused on the blackboard, concentrating on class — honestly, his side profile was handsome enough to draw an involuntary sound of admiration. The kind of face that could make girls and guys alike flutter at least once if he smiled with those strangely decadent eyes — and yet making people feel genuinely unpleasant with that very same face was, in a way, its own talent.
I hadn’t even been hoping for a smile. If he’d just stayed at a neutral expression I wouldn’t be reacting like this, but the way he kept shooting me sidelong glares whether I was looking or not was really starting to get to me.
……Annoying.
It was the same irritation I’d felt when playing the game. Not that the game ever showed Choi Woosu bullying or saying anything awful about Yeon Juwoo — his character wasn’t set up that way either. If I remembered right, there were barely any scenes of the two of them even talking. And yet the reason I’d disliked Choi Woosu was that the extra he hated shared my name.
The extra in FMB — and the body I now happened to be possessing — went by the name ‘Yeon Juwoo.’ Not because I’d been turned into Yeon Juwoo due to having the same name, but because this was actually the character’s real name. With all three characters of my fairly unusual name being an exact match, his existence had lodged itself firmly in my memory.
There was a reason this character — an extra without even a profile — had his name mentioned in the game, unlike Yang Inho.
Was it because he impacted the story? No.
Was it because he was somehow related to the main leads? No.
Was it because he was an exceptionally brilliant student? No.
It came down to just one thing. The sole reason: the setting that Choi Woosu despised Yeon Juwoo to an extreme degree. That, and nothing else.
The glare was getting more and more blatant, and it was becoming harder to ignore. I desperately wished for the bell to ring. I wanted to escape somewhere, anywhere Choi Woosu wasn’t.
“The bell’s almost up — shall we stop here for today?”
“Yes!”
They say if you want something badly enough it comes true. The moment the teacher glanced at the clock and said class was over, the bell rang. Impeccable timing.
Thud thud thud thud thud. The moment the lunch bell rang, the students bolted out at full speed, and the floor and ceiling shook so hard it was like a minor earthquake.
The classroom emptied out in under thirty seconds, and the only person left was me. Apparently, students being absolutely devoted to the cafeteria was the same inside a game as it was anywhere else.
“……Was I like that too?”
It made me think back on my younger self. I think I was exactly the same when I was in high school. Teenagers in the thick of growing up were so dead serious about food that the classroom would be completely empty the moment the bell rang. Picturing myself sprinting off like I hadn’t eaten in a week, I let out a quiet laugh.
“Nice to have a little trip down memory lane. Didn’t have room for thoughts like this after graduation.”
I’d been so caught up in real life that I’d long stopped thinking about the past, so this small, unremarkable moment felt oddly pleasant.
“But why isn’t anyone coming?”
Five minutes had passed since the bell, and no one had come looking for me. The classroom was so quiet that even my muttering to myself came back as an echo. Normally, lunch break meant gathering in twos and threes — classmates or friends from other classes — and heading to the cafeteria together, that was just the done thing. But there was no one around me at all.
“How does this kid have even worse social skills than I did……”
How does someone end up with no one to eat with? Aside from Yang Inho, there had been a few kids who came by during break to borrow books or ask about problems they didn’t understand. They were all strangers to me, but I’d figured the relationships were decent enough. Apparently that was the extent of it.
“Hmph. Like I’d ever lend out another book.”
It felt a bit like I’d been played, which didn’t sit great, but I left the classroom with my head held high regardless. As I walked down the empty hallway and the noise from the cafeteria grew louder, I thought to myself, so there are people in this school after all.
I’d never particularly liked eating alone, but I’d spent the last few years getting so used to it that it barely registered anymore. I had nothing to fear. I walked straight into the cafeteria, alone, without so much as a flicker of hesitation.
Maybe because I was a bit late — the cafeteria was packed with students. Standing there alone in the middle of all that noise, I stuck out plainly.
Students who’d already finished eating, students lined up ahead and behind me waiting to be served — they all stole glances my way. Having that many pairs of eyes on me at once was a little much, but not enough to be unbearable.
The line gradually shrank until it was my turn. I got my tray and went to sit down at an empty spot in the corner of the cafeteria.
Compared to the menus I was more used to — doenjang jjigae, chamsnamul, braised beef and quail eggs — this spread was unfamiliar. Honey bread, rosé pasta, salad, and even a small carton of apple juice for dessert. There was kimchi too, but it didn’t seem like it would go with anything on the tray so I didn’t take any.
“The food here is incredible.”
I couldn’t help but feel impressed — it looked even better than I’d expected. Even if this world was virtual, unless it was built entirely out of pure imagination like some alien planet, there had to be a real-world basis to it. This game had come out last year, so the school lunches here were probably modeled on something from within the last three years or so — and apparently this was what school lunch looked like these days. It had been quite a while since I graduated from high school, so I supposed it made sense that the menus had changed quite a bit.
I took a bite of the salad first — and my eyes went wide at the taste. If this was what I’d get to eat every day, going back to high school might not be the worst thing in the world. Even if that high school happened to exist inside a game.
“Hey, Yeon Juwoo!!”
“Pfft—!”
I was so startled by the ear-splitting shout that a little of what was in my mouth came spraying out. Before I could even turn around, the person who’d been calling my name slammed their tray down on the seat across from me and dropped into it.
“Hey! Why’d you ditch me and come without me?!”
“……Yang Inho?”
“I’m so hurt. Like, genuinely so freaking hurt!”
I stared in bewilderment as Yang Inho clutched his chest in an exaggerated display of injury. I’d waited over five minutes and no one had shown up, so I’d assumed there was no one to eat with — and now he was showing up in the middle of my meal demanding to know why I’d abandoned him. Even if I wanted to explain, I didn’t know enough to say anything.
“Well! Go on, explain yourself!”
Yang Inho shoved his spoon at me like a reporter thrusting out a microphone. Caught off guard, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“I — I was hungry.”
“You were HUNGRY?!”
His completely baffled reaction told me immediately that I’d given the wrong answer. Guess it was pretty obvious I was just making excuses.
“Y — yeah. I was hungry……”
“Oh my god. That’s somehow even worse. You ditch your friend just because you’re hungry?!”
“Okay, okay, I was wrong, can you please lower your voice—”
I waved my hand up and down to signal him to calm down. His voice was so loud that every student nearby — and even the teacher on duty — was looking over at us, and the embarrassment was getting to me.
“You left me behind—!”
“No! I didn’t ditch you, okay? Look at this menu — I was starving and you weren’t showing up! Of course I was going to come ahead!”
