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Shin Ryujin does not normally conduct performance evaluations of her classmates.
There is, as far as she knows, no official university policy encouraging students to rate each other’s smiles on a ten-point scale. If such policy existed, Ryujin suspects the academic handbook would be significantly more entertaining. It would have been her saving grace to cover the fact that she’s been actually checking out the girl three rows in front of her in her Economics class.
Unfortunately, tonight, she is lying on her bed at 12:02 AM, phone hovering above her face. Grip loose, eyes droopy, yet prepared to submit what can only be described as extremely unprofessional and unnecessary ‘research findings’ to her friend, Yeji.
This is not her fault.
This is, she believes, the fault of Choi Jisu.
Now, Ryujin doesn’t know Choi Jisu. Not really. Their entire interpersonal history can be summarized in brief academic exchanges earlier this semester:
Thu, February 12 at 7:21 PM
Choi Jisu
hey, i saw your message in the gc.
figured you need notes from earlier’s lecture
i can send them to your email : )
oh! thank you!
ryujin right?
yeah.
And that was it.
Ryujin, however, had considered it a promising start of her love life.
Her logic at the time had been very simple: be nonchalant and cool. Say just enough to be remembered, but not enough to look desperate.
In other words, she believed it was enough for Jisu to save her number, then the rest is up to the wonders of the universe.
Sad to say that after this, the conversation has gathered cobwebs and tumbleweeds rolled through those six short messages.
She told herself that it was fine.
Totally fine.
Perfectly normal.
That she would still see her twice a week, or actually, maybe even everyday.
Because once Ryujin is hooked, she would start asking questions.
Subtle ones.
Normal ones.
Very normal.
Questions like where Jisu usually went after class.
“You’re fucking weird. You know that?” Yeji tells her one afternoon.
“I’m just hopeful,” Ryujin says defensively. “And curious.”
Yeji stares at her.
“It wouldn’t kill you to ask her yourself.”
“It would,” Ryujin says immediately. “So, you’re doing me a favor!”
Yeji pinches the bridge of her nose, which is generally the gesture she reserves for moments when Ryujin’s decision-making begins to resemble a social experiment.
“You can ask Yuna. Isn’t she friends with Jisu?”
Ryujin recoils like Yeji has suggested ‘go embarrass yourself in front of the people here’.
“With that big mouth?” she scoffs. “I doubt I’d survive the fallout once she starts telling people who asked.”
Which is how Ryujin, a grown sophomore with functioning communications skills (especially she’s a debate varsity), somehow end up conducting a long-distance observational research on a girl she has spoken to exactly once, and worse, through chat.
It is not Ryujin’s proudest academic endeavor.
It is also totally not a requirement to their economics class.
It is, however, about to get significantly worse.
Ryujin hazily stares at her phone. She’s not drunk. Just mentally and physically tired from her debate tournament practice.
She opens Yeji’s chat.
Begins typing.
update: jisu is dangerously pretty today.
She pauses, rereads it, and nods to herself. Accurate.
Her thumbs continue to virtually word vomit.
like… scientifically concerning. it’s crazyyyy!
Another pause. Ryujin tilts her head thoughtfully, the way a researcher might examine a particularly confusing data set.
Yes. Yes. That also feels correct. No, it is correct!
9.7/10 smile btw
Ryujin hesitates.
A rating system is bold. Potentially controversial. But science for Ryujin requires courage. And like she’s mentioned, it is entertaining to make these kinds of observations.
She adds one more message, just to clarify the conclusion for today’s findings.
minus 0.3 because she looked at me and now i forgot how to fUNCTIONAHSJSJSK…
Send.
The message flies into the digital void.
She tosses her phone beside her and stretches like a woman who has just completed important intellectual work.
“What a good day, Ryu. Let’s do this again tomorrow!”
Ryujin felt psyched. Inspired. Electrified. All the adjectives that should probably require a warning. Today had gone well: a solid run in debate practice, followed immediately by the highlight of her observational research which is the Jisu Sighting in the music club lounge.
Their eyes met. Jisu smiled. Just a few seconds. Fleeting and insignificant. Yet for Ryujin, it was as if the universe had hit pause, rewired the laws of physics and her brain chemistry.
Another data point for the growing pile in her mental field journal: a day is not officially complete until Jisu’s eyes disappear from the apple of her cheeks. She scribbled this note mentally with all the seriousness of a Nobel committee evaluating a groundbreaking experiment.
And maybe, she thought, just maybe, Yeji would finally stop telling her she’s “weird”.
However, three minutes pass.
And nothing.
Ryujin frowns.
This is unusual. Yeji normally responds to gossip with the speed of someone who has been professionally trained for it. Even if it’s getting annoying.
Ryujin grabs her phone again.
wth yeji why aren’t you replyingggg
what if this is an actual emergency and i’m dyinggg?
Another message follows immediately.
aren’t we supposed to debrief or smth
Still nothing.
Ryujin sighs, because clearly she must continue the report herself without the interest of her dearest and only friend.
yejiiiii
just tell me if i’m getting annoying…
but this one
it’s serious.
something is wrong
she tied her hair up during their practice and i lost control
like my brain blue screened
srsly… why is she like that ugh
Three dots appear on the screen.
Finally.
Ryujin relaxes back into her pillow.
The reply arrives.
i didn’t know practice came with performance reviews from someone who isn’t even from the same club?
Ryujin blinks.
Once.
Twice.
Slowly, as in very slowly, she scrolls to the top of the conversation.
The contact name reads:
Choi Jisu
Fuck.
Well, there are moments in life where the human brain experiences something scientists might politely describe as catastrophic self-awareness.
This is one of them.
Ryujin considers several options while her adrenaline still rushes in her veins.
Here are some of her options, which are by the way, becomes progressively worse just because of a dignity-stripping message flood done by her down bad mind. These are already handpicked as the best responses to a worst case scenario.
Option one: throw her phone out the window.
Option two: move to another country.
Option three: start digging her own grave and pass away immediately.
Alas, none of these options resolve the fact that Choi Jisu, the owner of the aforementioned 9.7/10 smile, had just read an unsolicited performance review of her own face.
Another message from Jisu appears.
so the score is 9.7?
Ryujin eyes go wide enough to threaten orbit. She clutches the phone like it might bite.
Well… okay… I can assume she did not save my number. So she might not know it’s me… right? Totally fine. Totally safe. I am functioning on a normal human level and is, once again, blessed by my lucky stars.
answer me, shin ryujin.
Ryujin freezes.
Holy shit.
Her phone screams back at her in tiny blue letters: she did save it.
OH. SHE SAVED IT… DO I CELEBRATE ORRR…
She flails internally. Celebration seems premature. Panic seems imminent. She tries to consider sending a witty, composed reply but the entire concept of wit evaporates.
Instead, Ryujin’s brain goes full-on highlight reel:
Possible embarrassment levels: diabolical, catastrophic
Possible romantic outcomes: ??? vague
Possible survival rate: lowest of the low
She pinches the bridge of her nose. Or maybe her entire face. Possibly her soul.
She begins typing.
oh haha i see you saved my number
Ryujin, though already caught, is trying to be chill about this. Yet, her own fingers betray her and start explaining miserably.
i’m not suspicious i guess???
purely objective field research… yeah…
it wasn’t for me tbh… it was for a friend.
Ryujin’s thumb freezes mid-type on the half-finished paragraph about “objective field research” and “a friend.”
Because right then, an impeccable soul-crushing timing gives way to another message from Choi Jisu.
for a friend huh?
who is this friend?
and at midnight, through chat… are you sure you’re not drunk?
likeee drunk as an excuse?
Ryujin’s brain flatlines. She felt like she was at the edge of a cliff and Jisu’s holding her at gunpoint, and the only thing she can do is jump.
She can practically hear the dial-up tone in her skull.
No names come. Not a single believable one.
Yeji? Too obvious. Yuna would’ve already spread that like wildfire.
Chaeryeong? They barely talk outside dance crew.
Lia—wait, no, that’s literally Jisu’s English name, abort that thought immediately.
Her mind speed-runs through every girl in their year like a panicked Tinder swipe-left marathon.
Nobody. Zero plausible deniability.
She stares at the blinking cursor like it’s a ticking time bomb that will definitely detonate any minute now.
Abort. Abort. Abort.
She deletes everything again aggressively, like she can backspace the entire last fifteen minutes of her existence.
okay i did send that to the wrong chat
classic me. muscle memory betrayed me
pretend you saw nothing…|
Delete.
Too desperate. Too obvious. Yeji would call it “the verbal equivalent of tripping down the stairs while yelling ‘I MEANT TO DO THAT’.” If Yeji was awake, she’d be at her 100th face palm right now.
One more try. Ryujin sits up fully this time, legs crossed like she’s about to meditate her way out of mortification.
okay cards on the table
that was mortifying and i’m blaming sleep deprivation + post-debate brain fog
She hovers over send. Yeji would still think this is lame.
debate brain that knows my hair-tying schedule and gives decimal-point smile reviews?
that’s a very… committed friend you’ve got there, shin ryujin
The use of her full name for the second time hits like a jump-scare.
She’s cooked. Campus-gossip barbecue enjoyed over lunch breaks levels of cooked.
But she’s also a debate varsity starter. She doesn’t fold this easily. She pivots. Desperately.
okay
fine
the friend is… me
shocking plot twist. i know.
Then adds one tiny, traitorous sentence because apparently her dignity left the chat at least ten messages ago.
also. for the record. the 9.7 still stands.
still, can we just… fast-forward to the part where we both laugh about it in three years?
Send.
The little delivered tick appears like a guillotine blade dropping in slow motion.
Ryujin flings herself backward onto the mattress with a muffled scream into her pillow. It comes out sounding like “whyyyyyyymygod”.
Her phone buzzes once. Thrice.
She considers yeeting it into the laundry hamper and claiming it was stolen by laundry gremlins.
But curiosity (and a very stupid, hopeful part of her chest) wins.
She peeks.
three years is ambitious. i give it a week before yuna knows and then the entire campus knows
also
what exactly happens at 10/10? do i get a trophy or just more unhinged live commentary?
Ryujin reads it once.
Reads it twice.
Reads it a third time like maybe the words will rearrange themselves into something less devastatingly flirty.
They don’t.
Her heart does an illegal U-turn and floors it.
She types before she can overthink herself into cardiac arrest.
oh hahaha
you think that’s unhinged
ouch ok
well, trophy’s negotiable
but at 10, i might combust on sight
so like… for public safety. maybe keep it at 9.7 - 9.9 range?
Three dots appear instantly.
Ryujin holds her breath.
hmmm…
idk how it affects the public
but this is noted
i’ll keep it in mind
Ryujin finally remembers to breathe.
Which is great. Breathing is essential. Highly recommended for survival.
Tragically, remembering how to reply seems to have been sacrificed in the process.
Four very normal sentences from Choi Jisu.
Four sentences that have somehow rendered her quick thinking and even quicker rebuttals somewhere in her mind that says its completely useless.
Okay. Think.
Her brain, in response, does not think.
Instead, it replays:
i’ll keep it in mind
i’ll keep it in mind
i’ll keep it in mind
Which feels… promising? Vague. Threatening. Hopeful. All at once.
(Delusional.)
She sits up, suddenly aware that this might be one of those moments when a single reply determines whether she comes off as charmingly composed or permanently embarrassing.
No pressure.
Absolutely none.
Ryujin types, and Jisu’s
but i wasn’t expecting you’d be like this
well
for a debater, you’re objectively dramatic
Objectively dramatic. Those words hit different when they come from the girl who literally makes your brain blue-screen just by tying her hair up or by casually flashing a heart-stopping smile at you. The "researcher" in her was already brutally murdered by Jisu’s bluntness and her own inability to type like a normal human being.
For god’s sake, she’s supposed to be the one making people trip over their words, not the one tripping over her own feet while sitting perfectly still on a mattress.
“You make me feel like a loser and I can’t even argue back,” Ryujin quietly cursed to herself. “Which is insane, because arguing is literally my whole personality!”
dramatic?
you mean expressive, right?
this is just basic economics, jisu
supply and demand, remember?
not my fault demand is high rn
i’d like to think i’m reacting to the situation appropriately!
oh
thank you for the quick econ recap, ryujin
yet, i don’t think professor hong wouldn’t approve of this
using his lessons to flirt hmmm
is this your usual strategy or am i a special case?
Ryujin stared at the words ‘special case’ until they started to blur, her brain experiencing another round of that catastrophic self-awareness rushing in her veins ever since her swooning mind betrayed her.
She knew she was being cornered. If she said it was her usual strategy, she’d look like a serial flirt. If she admitted Jisu was a special case, she was essentially hand-delivering her heart on a silver platter along with the rest of her gratuitous findings.
“You’re so fucked, Ryu,” she whispered to her ceiling, feeling her dignity leave the chat for the eleventh time tonight.
She realized Jisu was right, she was using Economics to flirt.
The very class where she’d spent weeks conducting long-distance observations instead of taking her professor seriously was now her only defense.
Since she had already decided to put her cards on the table, there was no point in retreating now. Who would want to ghost after accidentally confessing? At this point, the only logical course of action was to lean into it, salvage whatever worth she could, and pretend this was all part of some grand, calculated bit instead of a very public display of her inability to act normal around one girl.
okay fine
you win this round of forensics
and for the record, professor hong would probably give me an A
for ‘creative application of market theory’
but to answer your question…
definitely a special case.
pretty sure the ‘9.7 smile’ variable is an anomaly in the data set
it’s statistically impossible to replicate
She had just essentially told the girl of her dreams—well, her very specific, 9.7-rated dreams—that she was a statistical impossibility. It was a line that would have either won her a championship trophy in a debate hall or a restraining order in a normal social setting. On a random school night, it felt like a coin flip between the two.
The three dots appeared, dancing with a rhythmic cruelty that suggested Jisu was either typing a thesis or laughing so hard she kept dropping her phone. Ryujin gripped her pillow, bracing for the impact of a total rejection or, worse, a polite "lol thanks."
an anomaly?
wow. i should put that on my linkedin bio.
’officially classified as a statistical impossibility by shin ryujin.’
Ryujin lets out a sound that is halfway between a cough and a laugh and immediately regrets both.
Because of course Jisu would do that.
Of course she would take something Ryujin meant as a very careful, emotionally self-protective classification of overwhelming attraction and turn it into a LinkedIn joke.
She presses the back of her hand to her mouth for a second.
“LinkedIn bio,” she repeats under her breath. “Are you serious.”
you’d get endorsements for “statistical anomaly,” i’m pretty sure
very niche skill set but impressive nonetheless
is that the debate-team way of saying you’re ‘down bad,’ shin ryujin?
because ‘statistically impossible to replicate’ sounds like a lot of words for ‘i like you’
also
if i’m an anomaly, does that mean the 9.7 is a conservative estimate?
i’m starting to think you’re holding back on the 0.3 just to keep your researcher ego intact
For a girl who spent her weekends dismantling complex geopolitical arguments in front of stone-faced judges, she was currently being completely undone by a few lines of text sent at nearly one in the morning.
The accusation of being down bad was particularly stinging because it was undeniably, catastrophically true. She had been conducting this precisely because she was too terrified to actually strike up a conversation. The mention of the missing 0.3—the safety margin she’d created to keep herself from completely falling off the edge—had been identified as the fraud it was.
okay, first of all, down bad is a very unscientific term.
i prefer ‘highly invested in the subject matter.’
and maybe statistically impossible is just my way of saying that
you’re a bit of a problem for my concentration levels.
a problem, huh
i think i like that
but if i’m affecting your concentration this much
maybe you should stop observing me from a distance and do something about it?
Do something about it.
The words sat there, glowing innocently on her screen, while her brain short-circuited in 4K. Choi Jisu—Choi freaking Jisu—had just handed her a neon sign that said “YOUR MOVE, DUMBASS” and Ryujin was still buffering.
She rolled onto her stomach, buried her face in the pillow for half a second, then flopped back like a dramatic Victorian maiden who’d just received a scandalous letter.
Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. I’m sure a debate team captain can handle one devastatingly pretty girl daring you to flirt in real time.
Right.
Because that’s easy. That’s so easy. That’s definitely something Shin Ryujin, known coward in matters of the heart, does on a regular basis.
She exhales slowly, dragging a hand down her face.
“Okay. Fine,” she whispers. “We’re being brave. Just this once.”
She types.
brave of you to say that like i haven’t been barely surviving just making eye contact with you
Stupid.
She can’t even look Jisu in the eye.
Delete.
Too honest.
She tries again.
‘do something about it’ is crazy
you’re asking a lot from someone
who just admitted she forgets how to function around you
And if only I was mindful enough to send the messages to Yeji, I could’ve not been suffering this much… This is fucking mortifying…
Winces.
“…God, that’s still bad.”
But she doesn’t delete it this time.
Instead, she adds.
but fine.
hypothetically speaking
if i were to… do something about it
what exactly are you expecting here?
Send.
The moment it delivers, Ryujin drops her phone onto her chest like it has physically exhausted her.
“Hypothetically,” she repeats weakly. “Yeah. That’ll save me.”
Jisu’s reply doesn’t come instantly this time, which somehow makes it worse.
The typing indicator flickers in and out of existence, like Jisu is either carefully choosing her words or just enjoying the psychological damage.
Either option feels deeply unfair.
expecting?
hmmm
Ryujin’s stomach drops.
That’s it. That’s the reply so far. One word and a vague sound of contemplation, and suddenly her entire nervous system is acting like it’s being audited.
She presses her lips together, already regretting every life decision that led her to type the word hypothetically like it would protect her from consequences.
The three dots come back.
i think you already know
And then Jisu keeps going.
it’s actually impressive how much effort you’re putting into being in denial.
is this how you win debates? by drowning the opponent in so many syllables they forget what the original point was?
just be straightforward for once, shin ryujin. no market theories, no creative applications.
can you do that?
Ryujin lets out a quiet, strangled laugh that sounds nothing like amusement.
“Denial,” she repeats under her breath, like the word itself insulted her. “I’m not in denial...”
Which, now that she hears it out loud, sounds exactly like denial.
She drags a hand through her hair, staring at the screen like it might turn off instantly for mercy. Jisu, apparently, has decided mercy is overrated.
Because another message comes in before Ryujin can even attempt to salvage her pride.
or is that something you can only manage over chat?
because i’d be very willing to hear it in person
And there it is.
The killing blow. There’s something unfair about how casually Jisu says it, like she didn’t just take this entire situation, flip it on its head, and set it on fire.
In person.
As in face-to-face. As in no buffer, no backspace, no carefully curated “hypothetical” safety net.
Her heart does that thing again. That violent and borderline illegal flutter.
“This is absurd,” Ryujin whispers to the ceiling. “She’s actually insane.”
And the worst part?
She wants to say yes.
Ryujin exhaled through her teeth, fingers shaking, palms sweaty, heart doing its best impression of a drum solo.
She could keep playing it safe. She could deflect again with something cute and flirty. But she knew if she dragged this out any longer, she’d actually lose her mind. And even though she barely knew Jisu, she could picture her right now — probably sitting in bed, foot tapping impatiently to the clock, waiting for Ryujin to stop being a coward.
Fuck it.
She typed before she could chicken out again.
okay... i would literally drive to your house right now if it wasn't this late on a school night
it'd be the first time we talk properly in person
and
i really don’t want the memory of confessing to you to include
getting banned from your street at two in the morning
so i’ll just say it here instead
Here it goes.
i like you, choi jisu
a lot. stupidly.
the kind of a lot that makes me send unhinged smile reviews at midnight
and then panic when you actually see them
like the way you laugh way too loudly at prof hong’s terrible econ jokes even though i can see that tiny “why did i laugh at that” look in your eyes right after
you’re in the front row so you have to sell it, but i still notice. every single time.
how you tuck that one loose strand of hair behind your ear when you’re concentrating
how you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re trying not to smile
how your handwriting gets messier when you’re excited about something
how you doodle tiny stars and hearts on the corner of your notes when you’re bored
even the way you stretch after sitting too long in lecture, you do this little shoulder roll thing
i’ve been collecting all these stupid little details about you for weeks
and it’s actually driving me insane because none of it feels stupid to me
they just make me like you more
and i'm sorry if you find it creepy
i just don't know how to approach you without fumbling
there. no more hiding behind pseudo-intellectual hypotheticals
because they make me look like a complete moron
i like you for real.
your turn to kill me now i guess
She hit send, then immediately threw her phone across the bed like it burned her and screamed into her pillow, legs kicking under the blanket in pure secondhand embarrassment.
She was so ridiculously down bad.
But at least this time… she’d actually said it.
Jisu’s reply came in faster than Ryujin’s racing heart could handle.
wow shin ryujin you really went for the full-length confession at 2am huh
i was expecting something cute but you just dropped an entire dissertation on me 😭
A string of laughing emojis followed, and Ryujin felt her soul leave her body for a second.
first of all… i’m genuinely impressed (and lowkey terrified) at how much you’ve noticed the fake loud laugh at prof hong’s jokes?? you actually caught that?? i only do it so he doesn’t think the front row hates him and fails me lmao
the hair tuck, the cheek bite, the messy handwriting when i’m excited, the stars and hearts doodles… and the shoulder roll thing??
i'm surprised you can still catch up with our syllabus because from what i can see here is that i'm all that you pay attention to
Ryujin groaned loudly and dragged a hand down her face for the nth time, equal parts mortified and thrilled. She kept reading, barely breathing.
but honestly?
it’s really cute. like… stupidly, unfairly cute.
no one’s ever paid that much attention to the little things about me before
so since you’ve already embarrassed yourself this badly tonight, i’ll match your energy
i like you, too, ryujin
if you haven't noticed, i look for you in class before i even sit down
i smiled at you extra long earlier so that i can just see how you'd react
to be honest, i wasn’t even practicing anything that day
i was only there because i knew the lounge is right beside the debate practice room
and if you're still wondering, yes, i did save your number
in hopes that i'd receive a happy valentines greeting two days after you offered your notes
and i really hoped you asked me out instantly
but you didn't. so i waited...
i was actually losing hope
now i’m just thankful for whatever godly accident made you send that smile rating to me instead of your friend.
Ryujin read the messages twice, mouth open, face burning hotter with every line. She let out a strangled little laugh-scream into her pillow.
Jisu had been… waiting for her? On purpose? The music lounge wasn’t even a coincidence?
She was going to die. Actually die.
But god, what a way to go.
Her fingers trembled as she typed back, still grinning like an absolute fool.
i’m actually going to throw my phone away after this conversation
you’ve been waiting for me to ask you out since february???
and you still let me suffer like this???
choi jisu, you’re evil
you’re such a loser, shin ryujin
but you’re my favorite kind of loser.
Ryujin groaned happily into her pillow, cheeks burning. “Favorite,” she whispered weakly, a helpless smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah… I can work with that.”
She stared at the screen a second longer, half-convinced this was all some sleep-deprived fever dream. But Jisu was still there. Waiting.
Taking a deep breath, she typed before her brain could sabotage her again.
fine. since we’re both losers tonight…
will you go out with me tomorrow?
dinner after econ?
A second passes.
Then, because apparently dignity is a concept she abandoned hours ago—
please
“Smooth,” she mutters. “Debate varsity, everyone.”
Her phone buzzes.
Ryujin grabs it immediately, nearly dropping it in the process because apparently her motor skills have also decided to clock out for the night.
about time
took you long enough
i was starting to think i’d have to ask you myself
Her breath catches a little easier now. The tight knot in her chest loosens, just slightly, like her body is finally realizing this is real and not a very elaborate hallucination designed to destroy her sleep schedule.
Another message follows.
dinner after econ sounds good
but don’t think you’re getting off easy
Ryujin blinks at the screen, already bracing herself for whatever new form of emotional damage Jisu is about to deliver.
let’s stare at each other tomorrow without you looking away
i want to see if you’re as confident in person as you are when you’re hiding behind your “market theory”
no notes this time
just you
Ryujin goes completely still.
For a second, she forgets how to breathe properly, how to think properly, how to exist in a socially acceptable way at all.
She was so screwed.
But lying there in the dark, phone clutched to her chest and heart doing its best fireworks show, Ryujin couldn’t stop smiling, helplessly fond and completely beyond saving.
This girl was going to ruin her life.
And she was already foolishly excited to let her.
Because in her defense, there is no known university policy for surviving Choi Jisu.