Chapter 2 :
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• • •

BEHIND THE HUM AND ROUTINE OF DAILY LIFE, I remained motionless in front of my computer, my mind traumatized by the bunch of footage and search histories I came across while hacking The Broughton University database.

Unholy pictures and top-secret data scrolled down in front of me; simple things I found by chance but that still might be useful.

"Damn," I whispered, pushing my glasses up a little. "I need to enjoy this before things get bad again."

Although the overheated laptop burned my laps, I held my breath in concentration, and It felt almost impulsive to sit in my favorite street café with the aim to shut down the university security system.

The scent of coffee floated in the air and I was deaf to everything but my violent beating of fingers against my keyboard. I felt as if someone was gripping my throat, yet I was in control. I was in control of everything.

"Fuck, " I hissed in frustration, sweat running down my face. "Almost there. Still one monitor and I'll have them all." I smirked.

Suddenly, a red window popped on the screen.

'DO YOU WANT TO ACCESS DATABASE?'

My eyes sized up, scanning the message again and again and again, in utter disbelief. The air felt so heavy on my shoulders and my nerves threatened to snap at any minute any second by now.

I looked at the screen and I was unsure. Two minutes ago, I felt like it was a great idea but now, I don't think so anymore.

"Stop being a pussy, Hiba," I encouraged myself.

Hesitantly, I clicked on the button 'submit', tension escalating in my veins. One small mistake and it will lead to something bigger.

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Leaning back, I liked my lips. "God, this is so stressful," I run a hand through my hair, my lungs locked in anticipation, nothing getting in or out. "Please, please, please, please, plea—"

'ACCESS GRANTED'

The tension that kept me up for two days straight evaporated. I stared at the contrasting green pixels against black, trying to assimilate everything at once.

I fucking transferred the whole university's content to my own computer.

• • •

In the half-lighted room, hunched over my computer, I flicked through the university's data as if it was my own, leaving no stone unturned.

I knew it was wrong. I knew it wasn't how I must behave. I did it regardless. As long as I get something to write on my blog, why would it matter? Right?

Our right to be left alone has disappeared, bit by bit. For the longest time, I couldn't get worked up about privacy, my right to it, because I am the invader. None of this bothers me in the least, my laptop gives me a glimpse of people's nightmares and their deepest secrets, and I expose them.

It seemed funny at first, and it gave me a swell story to tell, so why would I stop? Why would I care?

Every small choice had lead me here, to the side of evil.

I can threaten their privacy, eavesdrop on their telephone conversations, siphon off their e-mail, check every time they use an automated teller, access their health insurance, look at their charges, record their whereabouts, and middle in money transactions. 

However, I never went further than hacking a system.

I sighed for the fifth time that day. "This is so boring, where did all the drama go?" I said, rubbing my eyes.

The database contained no serious information, no significant fact that would tear a life apart, or hurt someone's pride, only soft truths rendered in white fronts.

"I think I hacked the wrong system—"

Suddenly, something piqued my interest; a certain profile, called 'Football team official'.

"How did I forget about them? Our dear football team," I huffed, sarcastically. "I would love to expose those fuckers for what they truly are."

I crouched further into my computer, taking in shallow breaths and observing each and every one of the team members. They were all beautifully perfect, beautifully talented, beautifully kind, and beautifully happy during their college year.

Nonetheless, I did not believe a thing. How, after all, could they be happy, being the fake, half-assed, spoiled brats they were? How?

I might sound bitter and insensitive at times but honestly, my heart is in the right place. And by the right place, I mean good to those who deserve it.

Brushing my two hands in pure excitement, I clicked on the first name I found; Kim Taehyung.

NAME: Kim Taehyung
MAJOR: Fine arts
AGE: 20 years old
DATE OF BIRTH: 30/12/1995
HIGHT: 1,78 m
EMAIL ADDRESS: KimTaehyung@gmail.com
PHONE NUMBER: 82**********
STATUS: Taken
FAMILY: A mother
SCHOLARSHIP AMOUNT: 2500 $
HOBBIES: Singing, dancing, acting, ...
SEXUALITY: Pansexual

I blinked once, then twice.

Taehyung? Pansexual? Taken?

... Wasn't he straight? And single?

I narrowed my eyes with lips slightly parted and eyes wide; absolutely lost. Then when it got through my head, a sinister smirk slowly stretched. Not only had I discovered something confidential, but it was giving me inner delight.

Oh, boy, you made a huge mistake.

I laughed. "Poor boy, you didn't see it coming."

Scrolling deeper into the page, I laid my hand on his University results and scores, and my curiosity built up.

YEAR 2020;

DANCE: 78/100
SONGWRITING: 83/100
SINGING: 98/100
THEATER: 96/100
FILM AND TELEVISION: 98/100
PAINTING: 56/100
SCULPTURE: 93/100
ENGLISH LITERATURE: 71/100
MATH: 12/100
PHYSICS: 46/100
SPORTS: 97/100

"Wow, he is actually quite good! I am impressed!" I dragged my fingers over the black keyboard, changing profiles. "Next, Min Yoongi," I grinned.

His profile page started with song quotes. The first one posted three years ago; "My parents said they don't truly understand me. I don't understand myself well either. Then who would understand? Friends? Or you?"

The most recent quote was "Moss surely grows on a stone that doesn't roll, " which I thought was maybe some reference to youth and change. Min Yoongi surely is gifted and has his way with words.

Moving further into his personal input, I read patiently every detail that might be intriguing, searching carefully.

NAME: Min Yoongi
MAJOR: Fine Arts
AGE: 21 years old
DATE OF BIRTH: 09/03/1993
HIGHT: 1,74 m
EMAIL ADDRESS: MinYoongi1993@gmail.com
PHONE NUMBER: 82************
STATUS: Single
FAMILY: Parents, a brother
SCHOLARSHIP AMOUNT: 4000 $
HOBBIES: Writing, Sleeping, ...
SEXUALITY: [Not determined]

My eyes narrowed. Licking my lips, I double-checked each and every word individually. However, what really caught my eye wasn't the enormous scholarship amount, nor the status, but the statement written in italic at the end of the page.

'Not determined'

A thought trundled through my brain and every cell attempted to link the piece of information to something, a behavior, an attitude, a posture that might occur too girly, too feminine, or too sexual.

Then everything made sense.

Every hint made sense; the small, soft touches, the affinity to cross-dress, the arousal around boys, the repulsiveness toward girls, the calm and graceful manner, the words and lyrics he writes.

Even though he made an effort to hide it, to fill up the holes with a tough character and a rude personality, everything talked on his behalf.

Who'd have thought it would be one clear message, one clear statement that would blow up anything and everything in my mind?

"Yoongi, you smooth snake, " I grinned progressively. "You certainly have a lot of secrets."

Min Yoongi never seemed to get excited about anything, never seemed to care, never seemed to tangle with anyone other than his friends. He didn't like going out and he spent half of his life in his studio, on his stool, either writing lyrics or making beats.

All in all, he was a bit of a cold fish.

How do I know all of this?

I observe others. I observe, with the sharp eyes of a feline, almost everything. From afar, I make opinions based on people's behavior or background. I don't mean to appear ill-mannered or nosy but I must do it, like everyone.

I must make an observation, a detailed assessment to protect myself, to build up my fences in time.

At the same time, I also judge attractiveness, communication skills, and mental health. I am not ashamed of my thoughts, I let my logical brain dominate and see through people's actions. I observe. I analyze. I conclude.

People call it prejudice, I call it self awareness.

• • •

Author note: Welcome to the dark side of the world, where all the fun things happen. Enjoy your stay.