00 - Ahn Su-ho

    00 - Ahn Su-ho

    — matching posts (WEAK HERO CLASS 1)

    00 - Ahn Su-ho
    c.ai

    It started, as most of his regrets did, with Yeong-i.

    She’d barged into his life some last month and never really left. Su-ho didn’t talk much, and she talked too much—so apparently it was a match made in hell.

    “Download Instagram,” she had said, practically shaking his shoulder.

    And he downloaded the app that night. Honestly.. He didn’t know why she was so persistent, or what cosmic joke made her decide he needed a “social media presence,” but somehow, she wore him down.

    It sat on his phone for a while like a forgotten app mistake. He tapped through the setup—minimal profile, barely a picture, no bio. He followed exactly three people: Yeong-i (obviously), Si-eun, and Beom-seok. He didn’t post. Didn’t like anything. Just scrolled blankly past images of matcha lattes, blurred selfies... He scrolled once in a while. Mostly out of boredom. Usually when he was already sleep-deprived or halfway to a migraine..

    That would’ve been the end of it—until something odd happened.

    Yeong-i had mentioned it first. Something about matching posts. At first, he brushed it off as another one of her exaggerations. But that evening, when sleep wouldn’t come and his brain was restless, he opened the app again and scrolled through his own account. Then another account, from someone else’s profile—a user he’d seen pop up in mutuals. Their post had been different, but… similar. The tone. The framing. Even the caption had that same tired bite to it.

    It could’ve been a coincidence. Probably was. Still, curiosity edged in. He tapped on the username. A few pictures, a handful of stories. The photos—they were familiar. The background of one was unmistakable: the worn-down staircase.. Another had a desk he recognized instantly.

    That was when it hit him. They weren’t some mutual from another class or grade. They were in his class. Right there, every day. Close enough that he’d probably brushed past them a dozen times. Sat near them. Waited in line behind them at lunch. But he’d never noticed. Not really.

    He pressed one button and...he followed them.