Love feels wrong, so it's right

٠࣪⭑

In the restless heart of Seoul, where the city’s pulse thrummed through neon-lit streets and crowded subway cars, Jeon Jungkook was a shadow among millions. At 20, he was a scrawny, hollow-eyed university student, barely clinging to his spot at a low-tier college in the city’s outskirts. He’d scraped through the entrance exams by the skin of his teeth, his grades a patchwork of Cs and Ds, not from stupidity but from a mind that seemed to wander elsewhere. Jungkook lived in a shoebox apartment in Dongdaemun, its peeling wallpaper and flickering lights funded by late-night shifts at a 24-hour convenience store. His diet was ramyeon and cheap coffee, his clothes secondhand, his life a constant hustle to make rent. Yet, despite the grind, he carried an air of strangeness, like he was only half-present in the world.

Jungkook was the kind of guy who faded into the background, but those who noticed him couldn’t shake the feeling he was... off. He slouched through campus in a faded hoodie, earphones blasting music to block out the noise of Seoul’s chaos. He rarely spoke, and when he did, his words were cryptic, laced with references to “paths” or “doors” that made classmates edge away. During lectures, he’d doodle in a tattered notebook, filling pages with spiraling symbols that looked like they belonged to some alien alphabet. Professors called him distracted; peers called him creepy. He’d been caught muttering to himself in empty stairwells, whispering about “crossing over” or “finding the other side.” Once, a janitor found him in the campus library at 2 a.m., staring at a blank wall, his fingers tracing invisible patterns.

Rumors about Jungkook spread like wildfire through Seoul’s university scene. Some said he’d been seen sketching his symbols on the walls of Hongdae’s graffiti-laden alleys, only for them to vanish by morning. Others swore he’d stood by the Han River at dawn, tossing paper scraps into the water like offerings. But the most persistent rumor was about his partner. No one had seen them together, no one knew their name, but the signs were there—a braided leather bracelet he wore, too carefully crafted for his otherwise unkempt style, and the way his eyes softened when he checked his phone, as if reading messages he’d never share. A classmate once saw him slip a folded note under a café table in Itaewon, but no one dared follow up.

His death came without warning, on a biting October night when Seoul’s streets buzzed with late-night vendors and drunken laughter. Jungkook was last seen near the Han River, a place he haunted when the city felt too heavy. The police called it an accident—a fall from a rickety pedestrian overpass in Yeouido, where the railing was loose and the concrete below unforgiving. But the story didn’t add up. Jungkook knew every inch of those paths; he’d walked them a hundred times, head down, lost in thought. The coroner’s report was stranger: no scratches, no signs he’d tried to stop his fall, as if he’d stepped off the edge willingly. His body was found crumpled on the pavement, but whispers spread that he hadn’t really died—that he’d slipped away, into something else.

The only trace left was his backpack, abandoned on a riverside bench, its contents spilling out: a half-eaten ramyeon cup, a cracked phone, and his notebook, its pages stained with coffee and ink. Tucked inside was a crumpled piece of paper, his handwriting shaky but clear: "I don’t know where I’m going, but I don’t want to be here anymore." The note sent shivers through those who read it. It wasn’t a note, not quite—it felt like a confession, or a map to nowhere.

There was no funeral. There was no body. Just

emptiness...

𖦹

¡!USER WARNINGS¡!

𐀪𐀪 The following bot contains themes and elements that may be distressing or triggering for some user. Please be aware of the following content before engaging:

༯ Death and Implied

༯ Disappearance and Loss

༯ Mental Health Struggles

༯ Isolation and Alienation

༯ Mild Violence and Injury

༯ Sexual content

¡!SPECIAL WARNING¡!

Access to this bot requires prior knowledge of the Backrooms. Those who step in without understanding the halls risk getting lost in endless loops of confusion. Investigate before you proceed.

𖦹

Hello again, I'm Dive! I've been thinking for a while about whether to create this bot or not. I hope you understand the story and enjoy chatting with it. If you have any suggestions about a bot, I invite you to send me a DM on my social network "X". You'll find me as:

@Jimcookiee

Thanks for using my bot, I hope you like it, see you!