Kang Dohyun stared at his phone screen long after the final panel faded. He wasn't even blinking. His thumb hovered over the page like it was frozen in time.
"…PTJ actually did it," he muttered.
He leaned back in his desk chair, exhaling in disbelief.
Yujae. Paecheon. That entire insanity of a clash.
He'd thought Lookism had already peaked fifty arcs ago. But PTJ always found a way to remind him that this story had no ceiling—either in strength or in absurdity.
"That man actually killed Pacheon… What is this guy, a walking final boss DLC?"
Dohyun rubbed his face.He couldn't tell if he was impressed or annoyed. Maybe both.
"Bro, at this point I don't even know who's above who anymore. We need a damn periodic table to track power levels."
He turned his chair, staring at the ceiling like it held answers.
Lookism was weird like that. You'd spend years reading it, clowning the plot holes, screaming about delays, arguing with strangers on the internet about who would beat who—but the second a chapter dropped, everything paused.
Life, responsibilities, work, all of it took a backseat to PTJ's madness.
He shook his head.
"What a joke. This damn manhwa is gonna outlive us all. I swear PTJ has, like, forty endings planned and he's choosing the most chaotic one every week."
But even with all the complaining—he loved it.
He loved the worldbuilding. Loved the broken characters. Loved the rare moments the plot actually made sense.
Most of all, he loved the idea of talent.
Gun, with that soul-crushing aura. Goo, with that unhinged creativity and unpredictable savagery. James Lee, the mythical top of the world—the guy nobody had clean answers about, only whispers, theories, bits of fragmented lore.
He envied them. Not because they were strong, but because they were special.
Dohyun, meanwhile?
He sighed. "Man, I'm built like a Walmart version of the average background character. I wouldn't survive a week in Lookism."
It was half-joke, half brutally honest truth.
People glamorized that world, but in reality? You'd have to pray daily not to bump into the wrong delinquent on your walk home.
Workers would enslave you. The First Gen would fold you. The Four Major Crews would accidentally kill you while fighting each other. Gun might flick your skull and end your bloodline.
And Daniel…Well, who knew what Daniel even was anymore?
Dohyun snorted quietly.
"And then there's him… the guy with more plot armor than actual armor."
Still, reading about those characters made real life feel a bit less… gray.
He placed his phone on the desk and cracked his knuckles.
"Alright. One more reread of the chapter and then maybe I'll sleep before three—"
BOOM.
His window rattled violently.
Dohyun sat up straight, confused.That wasn't a car backfiring.That wasn't thunder.
It felt like something had punched the air itself.
"...Earthquake?" he whispered.
Another shockwave slammed through the neighborhood. This one even louder.
The walls shook. A cup clattered off his nightstand.
"What the hell is happening—?"
He rushed to the window and yanked open the curtains.
Outside, the night sky—normally quiet, boring—was lit up by something bright streaking downward.
A flash. A shape. Something falling way too fast.
His brain tried to process it.
Then he realized—
It was falling toward him.
Toward his house.
"Wait—no, no—"
The world turned white.
Heat. Pressure. A sound he didn't even get to hear fully.
Then nothing.
Absolute nothing.
In the darkness, a single thought floated up like a bubble rising through deep water.
I wanted to be special too… just once in my life.
Another thought.
I wanted to be broken like them. A monster. Someone who could live however he wanted…
A final whisper, fading.
People like Goo, Daniel, James Lee… they were born different. I never had anything…
Silence swallowed everything.
Consciousness returned like a slow sunrise.
Dohyun inhaled sharply and jerked upright, gasping for air.
He clutched the blanket around him, chest heaving, eyes wide.
"What—what the hell—?!"
He looked around frantically.
This wasn't his room. It wasn't even close.
The sheets under him were crisp, pale blue. The walls were clean, plain white. A neat wooden desk sat near the window. A standing fan hummed softly in the corner.
Everything looked… simple. But new.
Calm. Domestic.
Like a single-family home in a decent Seoul neighborhood.
He swallowed hard.
"Where… am I?"
His voice sounded younger.
He froze.
He touched his throat. Then his face.
Smooth skin. Sharper jawline. No dark circles. No signs of the twenty-something exhaustion he carried for years.
He stumbled to the mirror on the closet door.
A stranger stared back at him.
No—not a stranger.
Him. But around seventeen, maybe eighteen. Lean but not weak-looking. Handsome, in a quiet sort of way.
Nothing absurdly beautiful like a Lookism protagonist, but definitely above average.
"…Is this real?"
He pressed a hand against the mirror. The reflection matched.
He stepped back, breathing heavily.
Then something worse hit him.
His phone—on the bedside table.
He grabbed it.
Korean apps.Korean number.
The date.
A familiar date.
A date that made his stomach plummet.
"No fucking way…"
He knew this timeline. He remembered exactly when this took place in the story.
One month before Johan is betrayed by the God Dog gang.
His hand trembled. His pulse hammered in his ears.
This wasn't some random alternate world. This wasn't a dream.
This was Lookism.
PTJ's Korea. The world filled with delinquents who hit harder than physics should allow. The world where one wrong street corner could end your life.
He felt a cold sweat forming on his back.
"No, no, no, there's no way I ended up here. This universe kills people for fun. I'm not built for this, I'm not—"
A soft chiming sound interrupted his panic.
A small, translucent screen appeared in front of him—quiet, subtle, not glowing dramatically. Just… there.
Like someone laid a piece of thin glass in the air.
[Status]