“Who are you reading right now?”
A single notification drifts across the screen.
[Jihoon] typing...
I’m not alone in the chat. Sujin, Yura, Jia—four usernames lined up in a row. I appear last, tagged as “Nayeon.”
His sentences always arrive vivid and sudden.
“Today I smell you again.”
Fourteen characters.
But who catches them first, who answers hottest—those measurements live inside her head. That was the moment I understood: this isn’t love, it’s a live leaderboard.
Rank Zero Man
The sharpest bait in an NM affair isn’t sex; it’s the cold, real-time scoreboard that shows who burns hotter.
When Jihoon drops a single line, four women ignite their screens in unison. And every time—
“Sujin read first.”
—that line appears and I’m already a beat behind. She fires off a sticker in 0.3 seconds, types “I love you” in 0.5. That tiny lag is proof I’m not the “she” who matters.
Nayeon’s Calculus
Nayeon (28, UI designer) told herself it was casual—“lightning-round romance.” Yet the moment Jihoon’s good-night kiss landed beside someone else’s name first, her mind iced over like fresh snowfall.
At midnight she quietly opened a second account: “Jia.” New profile, new tone, new time zone. She sent herself another invitation. The same scoreboard greeted her—only now “Nayeon” sat in second place.
If I’m second, who is first?
She scrolled endlessly. There was no first, just the empty pulse of an “online” icon.
Jihoon’s Garden
Jihoon (32, freelance photographer) never meant to create a ranking. He simply enjoyed the spectacle of four women rushing toward him at once. Still, he began counting petals in his own garden: who answers hottest, who waits longest.
The day he left for a shoot, “Yura” typed, “Have a safe trip” in 0.7 seconds. When he opened it, a heart bloomed beside her name.
That heart never appeared next to Nayeon’s.
Bait of Lack
Why do we obsess over a 0.3-second gap? Psychologists say “competitive selection” tickles our oldest victory instinct. But that’s only the surface.
What we truly crave isn’t first place; it’s the illusion that, in the instant we steal those 0.3 seconds, the other’s gaze pours entirely into us. We fall for that mirage.
An NM affair is less about sex with the other person than about securing the 0.1 second their gaze lingers on me. So we type faster, burn hotter—yet that gaze is forever waiting for the next name.
Are You Still Keeping Score?
Five usernames hover in the chatroom. You may still be last, but that isn’t defeat—you’re simply still chasing the 0.3-second gap.
When his next message lands, you’ll tap the screen without fail, hoping this time your name rises to the top.
Yet another version of you might read it first.
Another notification drifts down.
[Jihoon] You girls still make me feel the best
In 0.2 seconds a nickname flashes first. You already know it isn’t yours, yet your fingertip moves.
Why?