The man in the hooded coat strode through the rain-soaked alleys, his boots splashing through puddles that mirrored the city's neon lights. On the back of his damp jacket gleamed a purple butterfly emblem. The left side of his face was hidden beneath a tattoo—an inked serpent's tail curling toward his jaw.
"Do, ti, la, so, fa, mi, re…" he murmured under his breath, watching from the shadows as two young boys wandered toward a small pizzeria. The flickering sign above the door read in bright red letters: "Dongbang Pizzaria — Welcome to the Year 2052."
The older boy lifted his phone, grinning. "Hey, Seokjin, strike a pose!"
The younger, dark-haired boy shoved his hands in his pockets. "Aren't you afraid your phone's gonna slip? It's pouring out here."
"Relax. I'll buy that new BallPhone when it launches. A 4K photo won't kill me." He laughed, snapping the picture before dragging his brother toward the door. "Come on, pizza time!"
The hooded man's lips curled into a smile. With a single motion, he reached forward and tore through what we—the readers—saw, as if ripping apart a sheet of reality itself.
"Do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti…"
The scene flickered. The same alley reappeared—but brighter, sharper, alive with holographic billboards and floating cars gliding silently by. The pizzeria sign now read: "Chinke Pizzaria — Welcome to the Year 2069."
He raised a hand, releasing a tiny glowing butterfly from his sleeve. Its wings shimmered violet as it fluttered away—toward two men standing before the restaurant: one tall with white hair, the other with dark cropped roots.
"This place has good pizza," Sanghye said, glancing up at the sign. "I used to come here with my family. You ever been?"
"I think I only had pizza once in my life," I replied. "Back when I was a kid. Didn't care for it much after that."
"What, scared of getting fat since ten?" He smirked. "Guess it's time for your last piece then."
"Not eating?" I hesitated, guilt already forming in my stomach.
"Come on, I'm already full. Extra-thick mozzarella, chewy and gooey—what's to lose?"
He pushed the door open, and I stepped inside, greeted by the familiar warmth of melted cheese and baked dough. We slid into a booth. My eyes caught the holographic TV on the wall—it was playing an ad.
A cheerful woman's voice rang out. "Oppa! Annyeonghaseyo~!"
On the screen, a stylish man lifted a sleek metallic orb, smiling at the holographic woman projected before him. "Babe, you have to see this! The newest Charsung BallPhone SJW-470!"
Her hologram leaned closer. "The new version? What's so special about it, Sunny?"
He grinned and placed the orb on the ground. A field of 12K holographic starlight bloomed above them.
"With the latest 12K hyper-capture imaging, it's not just a phone—it's the future! If you've got one of these at home, you're already smokin' hot! Charsung Premium!"
Then came the jingle—bright, overproduced, and catchy as... literal hell:
♫ Pre-order now!
Smooth as silk, play your games and never lag,
Boom! Headshot, reloading up your mag!
Cool audio, music! never stop,
Charsung every day—we're on top!
System 4.0, yeah, it's lit! Budget, battery legit! Every day, you're right by my side, Charsung—the best of my life! (That's right, baby!)
Play your games, no stut', no delay, Music flows every day!
We use Charsung every time—hooray!
Now, Get yours today! ♫
Sanghye chuckled at the ad, shaking his head. "See? Even this crap pizza tastes better now."
I couldn't help but laugh softly, though my eyes stayed fixed on the butterfly—still fluttering outside the glass, just beyond the neon light.