A message arrived from the administration office. Our student ID cards were ready for pickup.
After eating lunch together, we headed straight there.
“Do-gyeon-woo,” the staff called, handing over a plastic card. “Here’s your student ID. Please check if everything is correct—your department, division, student number, and date of birth. On the back, you’ll find your current dormitory address. It’s supposed to be updated every time you move, so make sure that part is accurate, too. Mistakes with dorm addresses happen more than you’d think. If anything is wrong, we’ll reissue it right away.”
“…Everything looks fine. Thank you.”
The student ID wasn’t just a card. It was proof that we belonged to Geumgang Academy and also that we were semi-adults.
Of course, our uniforms worked as a form of identification too, but they couldn’t compare to the authority of the ID card.
Inside the academy grounds, uniforms might suffice, but in the learning city beyond, you needed the card to prove your identity and exercise your rights. Actually, it wasn’t limited to just this city. The student ID was recognized even outside, seen as an official form of ID, comparable to a resident registration card or even a passport.
Getting the card also meant our residence registration was complete. As of today, we are officially residents of the learning city.
“How did yours turn out? Looks good. This is the one I told you to use, right?”
“You said it was my best one. What about yours?”
“Tada! Cute, right?”
“Yeah, even prettier than in person.”
“…”
“I mean, the picture looks good, but it still doesn’t beat the real thing. You look way better in person.”
“Hmph. Too late for compliments now.”
“Wait, I don’t think I have this picture on my phone. Can you send it to me?”
“Huh? Um…”
“You don’t want to?”
“It’s not that. I just think it came out kind of weird now that I look at it again.”
“Weird? Where?”
“Doesn’t my face look a bit puffy?”
“You always look, no, not at all. You look really pretty.”
“Still… I’ve got a bunch of better photos. I’ll just send you one of those instead.”
“But those aren’t ID photos.”
“Well, that’s true.”
“Then send me this one. I don’t have a proper ID photo of you.”
“Fine. Okay. I’ll send this one along with a few others. Just… don’t share them with anyone else, okay?”
“Of course.”
“Then send me yours too.”
“Sure.”
While we waited for the others to get their cards, Yeon-ha-neul and I showed each other our IDs and exchanged photos.
By then, the others had also received theirs.
“Hey, everyone! Let’s take a group photo with our student IDs. I want to post it on HelloBye. Come on, everyone, gather here!”
“Yeah, sounds good. I should post mine too.”
“Send me a copy too, please. I want to keep it as a souvenir.”
“Hmph. Do what you want.”
“Go Eun-bi! Send it to me, too. I want to show it off to my family!”
“Sagun, what’s HelloBye?”
“Oh, HelloBye? It’s this image-sharing social media app that’s been trending around the learning city for a few years now…”
Go Eun-bi was completely thrilled about our new IDs and gathered us all like a pro.
At her direction, we stood in a circle and reached our cards toward the center.
She held her phone overhead and snapped the shot, making sure every card was visible.
“Nice! They all came out great. I’ll share it in the group chat and post it on HelloBye.”
“Eun-bi, what hashtags are you using?”
“Let’s see… #DailyLife, #AcademyDays, #WithMyBestFriends, #FriendshipForever, #GeumgangAcademyBeauties. Something like that. Oh, everyone, give me your HelloBye IDs!”
“Only a true social butterfly could throw those hashtags around so casually…”
To be fair, Eun-bi really did have a talent for making even a simple photo feel meaningful.
I opened the group chat and saved the photo she’d uploaded.
She was already busy uploading it to HelloBye, her fingers tapping rapidly on her screen.
“Okay, I’ve got Ha-neul, Gyeon-woo, and Lisa already. Hae-rang, what’s your ID?”
“H, A, E, R, A, N, G, one-zero-eight.”
“And A-rin?”
“…No choice. Just give me your phone. Saying it out loud is pointless. I’ll type it in for you.”
“Add ours too!”
“The beginning’s U, D, O, N, G for all of us. Just change the number at the end!”
“Yeah, we’re 01, 02, 03!”
“How do you even use HelloBye? Do I just download it from the app store?”
“I’ll help you. Just search HelloBye in the store…”
Honestly, with eleven people talking at once, it felt like chaos.
I couldn’t help but click my tongue at the flood of voices from every direction.
Watching Go Eun-bi stay calm and keep up with everyone while typing away was actually kind of impressive.
Meanwhile, Lisa was kindly helping Kang Han-byeol set up her own account.
“Strongstar145. That’s your ID now, Han-byeol. Got it?”
“Got it! Okay!”
“When you first log in, you’ll be prompted to create your profile,” Lisa explained patiently. “Just follow the prompts and fill in a simple introduction here. The most important part of HelloBye is your profile picture.”
Lisa spoke in her usual calm tone.
Kang Han-byeol nodded seriously, clearly listening with full attention.
Watching the two of them, I couldn’t help but smile to myself.
She was repeating the exact same explanation Eun-bi had given her just a few days ago.
Like Han-byeol, Lisa wasn’t all that familiar with the world either. She’d spent most of her life immersed in the culture of the Empire before arriving in the learning city.
So watching her now, teaching someone else with such confidence, was a bit like watching an unintentional comedy sketch.
Just then, Go Eun-bi finished her task with a triumphant grin.
“All tagged! Even Han-byeol!”
I opened the HelloBye app.
A notification told me I’d been tagged, and sure enough, at the very top of the feed was Eun-bi’s newly uploaded post.
Somehow, it already had two hearts.
Curious, I checked who had liked it. One was from Eun-bi herself.
“…”
“…What are you staring at me for?”
“You were acting all indifferent, but you were the first one to hit ‘like’.”
“…!”
The other one was from Min A-rin.
I turned my eyes toward her. Her golden ones widened in alarm as her face slowly turned bright red.
She stammered, trying to justify herself.
“M-my data connection’s just really fast, okay? And my hand slipped!”
“Oh no, A-rin. Are you going to take it back, then?”
“Ugh… why bother? It’s a waste of energy to dislike it. It doesn’t hurt me, so what’s the point?”
Go Eun-bi leaned in, dramatically mimicking her response with a theatrical voice.
Min A-rin flailed in visible confusion, completely unaware that her embarrassment was on full display.
Nobody watching could miss how flustered she was.
And I had seen it all before she even knew I was looking.
Before I spoke to her, she’d been smiling quietly to herself while staring at her phone.
Still, I decided not to tease her further. Anymore, and she might have snapped at me.
After her blush had finally faded, A-rin shifted the conversation.
“Now that we’ve got our student IDs, there’s nothing else to do. I’m heading back. I’ve got to study and work on assignments.”
“Already? Let’s kill a bit more time at the café or something. What assignment do you have?”
“I have to write a will. The Witch assigned it today.”
“A will? We got that too. I got scolded by our instructor for mine earlier.”
“Well, that one was definitely your fault, Eun-bi.”
“We also received that assignment today. Looks like it’s the same across the board. Did you get it too, Hae-rang?”
“Yup! Same here!”
“Us too!”
“What did you even write to get scolded, Eun-bi?”
“Well, I kind of… wrote this whole dramatic line: ‘When do you think people die? When their hearts stop beating? No… people truly die when they disappear from others’ memories!’ I got a bit too excited and wrote that, and the instructor got on my case.”
From what the others were saying, it seemed like we had all coincidentally been given the same assignment: writing our last wills.
So it made sense that the conversation naturally drifted in that direction.
And it didn’t take long for Go Eun-bi to offer a suggestion.
“Then why don’t we all write our wills together?”
Following Lisa’s instructions, Kang Han-byeol stayed focused on setting up his profile while his friends chatted around him.
He made his personal information private, chose some interests and hobbies, answered a few questions, and wrote a short self-introduction.
Finally, it was time to choose a profile picture.
“What should I pick?”
Most of the photos on Han-byeol’s phone were of landscapes. Ever since he came down from Mount Taebaek, everything had seemed new and fascinating, and he’d snapped pictures wherever he went.
He scrolled through them, unsure of which to use.
Then he noticed a tip under the photo section.
[Tip] Using a photo that shows your face makes it easier to leave a good impression!
“A photo that shows my face?”
Thinking about it, all his friends used face photos both in the group chat and on HelloBye.
Han-byeol flipped to the previous screen and checked their profiles to be sure.
Each of them had their face in the profile image.
Go Eun-bi was taking a mirror selfie, grinning beside a strawberry milk carton.
Min A-rin had a confident smile in a selfie shot from above.
Lisa Grace’s profile showed her shyly smiling while sipping coffee in a café, as if someone had taken it from the side.
Do-gyeon-woo was pictured using his phone, as if someone had snapped it head-on.
Yong Hae-rang was posing in a black martial arts uniform in a dramatic black-and-white photo.
Park Sa-gun had taken a selfie with his dorm room in the background.
And the U-dong triplets were standing proudly together at the academy’s front gate, a clean frontal shot.
“Guess showing your face is the trend.”
Only one person had chosen not to: Yeon-ha-neul.
Her profile featured two rabbit plushies sitting across from each other, with a strawberry milk between them.
“Maybe I should follow the trend and use a face photo too.”
He’d made up his mind. The only problem was, he didn’t have many suitable pictures.
There were a few old, blurry childhood photos, and one or two he’d taken with his master, Seo Jeong-jin.
“A recent one would be best.”
No helping it.
Han-byeol decided to take a selfie.
It would be his first, but he knew the basics and felt confident.
He switched the camera to front-facing mode.
His face appeared on the screen.
“Let’s see… lighting looks good here… maybe tilt it up a bit?”
He adjusted the angle of his phone.
Once he found the position he liked, he was just about to hit the shutter.
Then he noticed something.
“Gyeon-woo?”
In the corner of the screen, Do-gyeon-woo had appeared.
He was facing Yeon-ha-neul, who was just out of frame, deep in conversation.
Suddenly, an idea popped into Han-byeol’s head.
He turned toward Gyeon-woo and called out.
“Gyeon-woo, look over here.”
“Hm?”
Do-gyeon-woo turned his head sharply toward the camera.
He noticed that Han-byeol was about to take a picture and, playing along, locked eyes with the lens.
Then, with a grin, he held up a peace sign.
“Ready?”
Han-byeol chuckled at his timing and hit the button.
Click.
And just like that, Kang Han-byeol’s profile picture was done.
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