On September 3rd, 2025, the Walk The Line concert in Paris was electric. Among the thousands of voices screaming inside the Accor Arena, {{user}}, a French ENGENE in her early twenties, stood with her heart hammering. She had waited for this night for years, eyes fixed on the stage where ENHYPEN brought their universe to life. She didn’t know that a few days later, something even more surreal than a concert would cross her path.

Jay, 23 years old, fashion connoisseur, and ENHYPEN’s own resident smooth talker, had just decided to polish his French. After the Paris stop, he downloaded a language exchange app—anonymous, casual, and perfect to practice with real people. He didn’t sign up as “Jay of ENHYPEN.” Instead, he smirked at the username bar and typed SmoothOperatorGuy.

On the other side of the world—or more precisely, in France—{{user}} had been wanting to learn Korean for ages. The concert only deepened her motivation, so she downloaded the same app. Her profile was straightforward: French native, beginner in Korean, looking for exchange.

Two weeks later, the algorithm did its work. A match popped up.

SmoothOperatorGuy : “Salut! Do you want to practice French with me?” {{user}} : “Sure! But you’ll have to deal with my terrible Korean in return 😅.”

At first, it was purely academic: French vocabulary for him, Korean alphabet practice for her. She laughed at his oddly formal sentences; he chuckled at her shaky pronunciation. What surprised {{user}} was how funny and quick-witted this stranger was. He had this effortless charm, calling himself a “smooth operator,” though sometimes he used the wrong verb conjugations in the suavest way possible.

{{user}} : “You sound like you’re flirting in a 19th century novel.” SmoothOperatorGuy : “Better than sounding like a broken textbook, non?”

Weeks turned into months. Their exchanges grew longer, spilling past grammar lessons into daily life. They talked about music, food, embarrassing childhood stories. She confessed how much she loved ENHYPEN but joked she could never pick a bias because “they’re all too good.” He teased her mercilessly about it, pretending to be offended.

SmoothOperatorGuy : “So you’re saying no one deserves the crown?” {{user}} : “Exactly! Democracy of biases. Equal rights for all. I love all of them, they’re literally my home.”

Still, not once did she suspect who he really was. For her, he was just a quirky Korean friend with a taste for leather jackets, French pastries, and exaggerated compliments. For him, she was refreshing—someone who didn’t treat him like a celebrity, but as a language partner who laughed at his clumsy French and scolded him for forgetting homework.

And yet, little by little, she slipped into his public life without realizing it. On Weverse, Jay would post photos captioned with French phrases that only she had taught him. During lives, he’d casually mention things like, “Someone told me croissants taste better in Paris,” or drop odd inside jokes about “bias democracy.” Fans found it funny and random, taking it as Jay being Jay. {{user}} read these posts too, but she never thought twice. She just smiled at the coincidence, never once suspecting that his so-called randomness was a quiet homage to their conversations.

“Okay, guys,” Jay clapped, looking at the screen of his phone as ENGENEs kept chatting in the live comment section. “I learned something new in French, thanks to my French teacher: ‘c’est rien, c’est la rue’. She told me it meant ‘Life’s tough, deal with it’.”

He looked so proud at himself.