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The Byeontae Game

Their eyes widened, and their lips lifted into smirks. The Pervert Game. Those magic words worked wonders. Never once did any of the guys stop there. Everyone wanted to know. "What is that game?" they all asked, "How do you play it?" And in the underlying, unspoken words, they wondered what they'd get for winning it.

Men were men. My first test had proven true.

And the second was that age didn't matter. This felt good. A finger to the dick boy who said Ajummas sucked. My naughty plan to corrupt Korean men's minds was on fire. The success rate was 95%, of which only one out of fifty guys said no. He was happy not playing the game when he learned the rules. I took it as him being careful. True, the internet was flooded with scammers.

The Byeontae Game was a litmus test. A telling sign for the type of men I wanted to meet and hoped to gather the information I sought, and the ultimate goal, if vibe permitted, fuck our brains out.

Excuses were aplenty. Whatever the reason, the journey was a sexy thrill I couldn't get enough of.

The plot began a month before.

I stumble upon many Youtubers chatting and recording their convos with strangers they met on Ometv and Omegle. Two online random chat apps that matched you with strangers in your chosen countries provided language translation message boxes for those who don't speak the language.

The Korean strangers chatting with these Youtubers, who often pretended they couldn't speak Korean, were so intriguing that I kept returning for more. They were the real version of K guys I saw in my drama, and like many women brought in by the K-wave, I wanted to know more about this hot new species.

The everyday Korean guy.

I was on overdrive, wanting to meet such people and wondering if that was possible. And so the pre-game was hatched. I wrote my cheatsheets. The what-ifs and questions I wanted to ask were translated and sounded out so I could read off the papers and communicate.

Old school, yes. I should have pulled out a translation app, yes. In all my exuberance, I wasn't thinking straight. After many tries and setting up my fake accounts and VPN, I was ready and set to fire. And after the first shot down, it took days to climb back up.

And then one day, I logged in. A new guy's face popped up. I stared into his bedroom and then back at him.

"Annyeonghaseyo" (안녕하세요) he said. "Eodiseo osyeossnayo" (어디서 오셨나요)

I jumped and slammed down my laptop. My heart was racing at two hundred miles an hour. It took several more tries. Each time before clicking START, I took deep breaths for forty minutes and tried and freaked out again, and slowly that dropped to thirty minutes, then again, twenty, ten, and then five minutes.

I wasn't usually an Introvert, but this strange communication method was past my playing field. Breaking out of my bubble was harder than I thought. Still, I was relentless and forcing myself to small talk and break the silence, extending the cross-country conversations with the longest I'd spoken to at ten minutes.

And then, one night, with my cheat sheets in hand, I finally braced myself to ask my first Korean guy to play the Byeontae game. I picked an easy target — one with a chest, no face, no legs, and a high chance of a naked ass and dick in hand.

He wasn't my kind of fish because I wanted a face and a friend. But, he

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