Chapter 111

“Come in, Yeonhoo.”

The gentle voice broke the silence. With a click as the door lock disengaged, Kwon Mieon pulled the handle and opened the door.

And where they were standing was none other than—

This can’t be happening. I actually came to Kwon Mieon’s place.

Yeonhoo stood there awkwardly, his face pale, glancing around as though unsure what to do until Kwon called to him.

“Yeonhoo?”

“Ah. Yeah.”

Only then did Yeonhoo come back to himself and step inside.

With every step, regret crashed over him like a rising tide.

I should’ve found some way to run.

Thinking back to last night, Yeonhoo squeezed his eyes shut.

What choice had he had? If he refused to play together, he was basically facing social annihilation. Only after he agreed had Kwon finally seemed satisfied and backed off.

The problem was what came next.

“So where should we play?”

“Can’t we just play from our own places?”

“What? How could we do that? If I leave you alone, you’ll definitely end up at some other woman’s place...”

“Hm? What did you say?”

“...Nothing. I get lonely, so I want to play together.”

“How do you even get lonely while gaming...?”

“I’m so lonely I feel like I might accidentally contact Kang Miyoung.”

“Right. Gaming alone is lonely. We should stick together.”

Thanks to that damned threat, Yeonhoo had ended up having to choose the location himself.

He had considered inviting Kwon to his place, but there was one obvious problem: he only had one computer.

Kwon, as if he had been waiting for exactly that, had immediately pointed out that he owned two computers with identical specs.

And that wasn’t even all.

“Your phone’s broken, so I’ll come pick you up.”

“I can just take a cab.”

“What if we miss each other?”

“How would we miss each other when I’m going to your house?”

“Just a feeling. For some reason, I feel like you might be packing your bags right about now?”

Is that bastard a psychic?

Kwon had somehow seen straight through the escape plans Yeonhoo had been quietly making, leaving him no choice but to let himself be dragged out of his apartment first thing in the morning.

Which was how the two of them had ended up walking into Kwon’s place side by side.

There was no use blaming anyone now that it had already happened, but the sheer absurdity of how smoothly one ridiculous event had led into the next made Yeonhoo want to sigh every few seconds.

“Here.”

Instead of sighing, Yeonhoo held out the shopping bag in his hand with a sullen look.

Despite his pouty expression, inside was a neatly wrapped set of towels and tissues.

“This is for me?”

“Who else would I be giving it to?”

The irritation he’d been carrying since they left came through in his tone.

Even Yeonhoo thought it was ridiculous that he had prepared a gift when he was practically being dragged here against his will, but he had always made a point of bringing something whenever he visited someone else’s home.

I’m annoyed, but I’m not showing up empty-handed.

Grumbling the whole time, he had gotten up early and gone to a nearby twenty-four-hour market.

Then the moment he returned, Kwon had shown up at the crack of dawn and hauled him over here.

He hadn’t slept properly, and exhaustion was written all over his face. Yeonhoo absently lifted his head—then paused.

Why’s he staring at it like that?

Kwon couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the shopping bag.

After staring for quite a while, he suddenly broke into a bright smile.

Yeonhoo froze.

“Thank you. This is the first housewarming gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Can I open it?” Kwon asked with open excitement.

Yeonhoo nodded before he even realized it, and Kwon immediately peered inside.

“The tissues are so everything goes smoothly, right? What’s this? Towels?”

Kwon looked genuinely delighted, like a kid opening a Christmas present.

If anything, that was what threw Yeonhoo off.

“There’s a teddy bear on them, Yeonhoo. Can I use these right away?”

Kwon bent his huge frame over the bag as though he might climb straight inside it, turning the contents this way and that while he examined them.

Yeonhoo stared at him, momentarily speechless.

Is this really something to be that happy about?

“...You’re obviously supposed to wash towels before using them. Idiot.”

Seeing Kwon enjoy the gift that much didn’t feel bad.

If anything, Yeonhoo could feel his own mood lifting.

But he didn’t want it to show, so the words came out sharper than necessary.

“Right. I guess so. I just wanted to use them right away. Now I have to wait for them to dry.”

Kwon didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.

He simply clutched one of the towels with an innocent smile, almost like a puppy.

Only then did it truly sink in that Kwon was two years younger than him.

...Two years?

Yeonhoo blinked.

Wait.

How did he know Kwon was two years younger?

Kwon had been calling him Yeonhoo from the moment they first met, as though they’d known each other for ages, so Yeonhoo had naturally assumed he was younger, but...

Did we talk about it at the café?

Yeonhoo tilted his head, trying to remember when he had heard that particular detail.

“I’ll use them well.”

“It’s nothing...”

Kwon’s smiling face cut through his thoughts.

Yeonhoo found himself unable to look away from the curve of his lips, but forced his gaze elsewhere.

Only then did he properly take in the apartment.

And somehow, there wasn’t a hint of warmth anywhere in such a large home.

A refrigerator. A dining table. Chairs.

Only the bare minimum needed to survive sat scattered throughout the place.

Why is there nothing in here?

There wasn’t a sofa, a TV, not even the kind of ordinary houseplant you saw in almost every living room.

The only things occupying the otherwise empty space were a handful of workout machines.

Kwon naturally fell into step beside him and gave him a casual tour.

“This is the bedroom. If you get tired, you can sleep here. That’s the dressing room, and over there is storage.”

The other rooms were no different.

The bedroom connected to the dressing room had nothing but a large bed—no lamp, no nightstand—and another room seemed to be used purely for storage, with no furniture at all.

“This is where we’ll be gaming.”

That room was just as barren.

Two computers.

Two chairs.

That was it.

“...Did you move in yesterday?”

“No. I’ve lived here for quite a while.”

“Then why is there nothing here?”

It was the complete opposite of Yeonhoo’s own home, where he had hated empty space so much that he had stubbornly filled every corner.

“I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it.”

Kwon’s home looked as though he might leave at any moment.

I thought it’d be flashier.

Stylish. Colorful. Extravagant.

Kwon had always struck him as someone practically made for parties, so Yeonhoo had assumed his place would resemble his own, if not take things even further.

Instead, it was the exact opposite.

“Sit here.”

At Kwon’s voice, Yeonhoo quickly shook off his wandering thoughts and sat down.

The two monitors placed side by side flashed to life.

Against the empty desktop, as barren as the apartment itself, a single icon sat dead center.

“You already installed Zombie Village?”

There it was.

Zombie Village.

“Yeah. No point wasting time, right?”

The game was pretty large, so Yeonhoo had figured the download would take a while.

Apparently Kwon had installed it in advance.

“By the way, you recognized the icon right away. I moved it to the middle in case you didn’t.”

So that was why it was sitting right in the center instead of the upper-left corner where icons normally went...

“No... it’s got the name written on it.”

Pretending not to know anything was exhausting.

And frankly, this one felt unfair.

Come on! It’s not like he hid it somewhere I wouldn’t recognize it! He stuck it right in the middle of the screen. Obviously I’d assume it was the game we agreed to play!

Yeonhoo pouted as he logged in.

Kwon watched him quietly for a moment, then asked with apparent curiosity,

“But you already made an account?”

Yeonhoo froze.

Zombie Village was notoriously annoying to sign up for, and its system only allowed one account per phone number.

Yeonhoo had prepared in advance by creating a new account under a family member’s information.

Is he about to call me out on something?

Yeonhoo cautiously watched Kwon’s reaction.

Then he glanced at Kwon’s screen—and blinked.

“...So did you.”

Yeonhoo wasn’t the only one who was supposed to be pretending this was his first time playing.

Kwon had also acquired a fresh ID ahead of time and was already logged in.

When Yeonhoo pointed it out, Kwon smiled shyly as though he had been waiting for the question and answered in an almost sweet voice.

“Ah, I was excited about playing. When I installed it on the gaming computer ahead of time, I signed up too. What about you?”

“......Well, I don’t have a phone right now, and signing up by email means going through verification several times. It takes a while, and it’s annoying. So I made mine ahead of time too.”

“Right? Signing up for Zombie Village isn’t easy. But I guess you already knew very well just how annoying it is, Yeonhoo?”

“How would I know? This is my first time. I was just sooo excited to play with you that I signed up at home before dawn last night. Just like you.”

“Wow. You wanted to play with me so badly that you even made your account in advance. I’m genuinely touched.”

“Same.”

Anyone could tell they had each created a fresh account under a family member’s name so they wouldn’t get caught.

Yet both of them continued acting as though they had no idea.

After exchanging one smooth excuse after another without pause, their eyes met.

A beat later, as if on cue, they both snapped their heads away.

The corners of their mouths twitched almost simultaneously.

Hah. So you think you covered your tracks pretty well, do you?

Nobody was fooled.

There were only two people doing the fooling.