LA0S | Chapter 21

“There aren’t as many people as I thought. Let’s sit over there where it’s empty.”

Kim Chayoung, who had been walking ahead, turned back and grabbed Lee Jinha’s arm as he hesitated at the entrance.

Smack.

Reflexively, Lee Jinha shook off the hand, the sound ringing out louder than expected. Kim Chayoung stared at his flung hand for a moment before lowering it nonchalantly.

Lee Jinha thought he would get angry—but his reaction was unexpected.

“If you don’t like me touching you, just follow quietly. I won’t let it slide next time.”

Feeling somewhat awkward, Lee Jinha slowly followed behind him. Kim Chayoung sat in a seat where two monitors were placed side by side without any partitions. Not only the monitors, but the chairs were also connected like a long sofa.

“This is a couple’s seat.”

“So what if it’s a couple’s seat?”

He blinked as if wondering what the problem was. His gentle expression showed no sign of confusion.

“No, it’s just… never mind.”

Feeling like he was overreacting, Lee Jinha sat down before Kim Chayoung. He sensed Kim Chayoung sitting next to him shortly after.

“Give me your bag.”

“Why the bag?”

Lee Jinha hugged his bag tightly with both arms and slightly moved away from Kim Chayoung.

“You always suspect me whenever I do anything. I’m just putting it here because it’s in the way.”

There was a hint of exasperation in his voice. Kim Chayoung gestured to the space next to him, meant for storing belongings, and spoke curtly. His lower lip was slightly protruding.

“Think with your hand on your conscience. Do I look like someone who shouldn’t be suspected?”

As soon as he finished speaking, Kim Chayoung placed his hand on the opposite side of his chest. The slightly protruding knuckles and long fingers were quite neat. While Lee Jinha was distracted by the sight of his neat hand, Kim Chayoung spoke with a rather serious face.

“I just asked my conscience, and it says I’m pure.”

“…”

Is he crazy?

There was nothing to say. Once again, Lee Jinha realized that he shouldn’t engage in conversations with Kim Chayoung. Before he knew it, he would get caught up in his pace.

Kim Chayoung, who had declared his conscience, lightly shook his mouse to wake the monitor and turned on Lee Jinha’s as well. After a quick glance at the desktop, he swiftly clicked on an icon.

Click, click.

The large monitor lit up with vivid graphics, and grand music, perfectly matching the screen, flowed out.

“You said we’re not playing games.”

“Don’t look at the trees, look at the forest. Look at the background.”

With the red sunset as a backdrop, sandstorms swirled, and a game character holding a large sword stared straight ahead. Behind him were a howling wolf and another character in a shooting stance. Both the characters and the music were familiar. It was only natural—after all, this was the game they used to play together whenever they had time in high school. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say their entire sophomore winter break was spent on this game. If you looked at their chat history, it would be filled with:

“PC room?”

“Yeah.”

“Our genre is modern fantasy. Looking at these game characters might give us some inspiration. It can also help with dungeon planning.”

“What nonsense. This isn’t ‘modern’ fantasy; it’s outright fantasy. It has a strong medieval feel.”

“What’s nonsense about a creator seeking inspiration? If it’s a collaboration, you should put in some effort too.”

No matter how much he thought about it, it was absurd. But since the person drawing the illustrations claimed he would get inspiration from it, there was no room for argument.

Before he knew it, Kim Chayoung had already finished logging in and was waiting. Lee Jinha tilted his head repeatedly as he typed in his ID.

“…”

He hesitated just before entering the password. The password for this game was rlackdud12—which, in Korean, translated to “Kim Chayoung12.”

Back then, it had been his way of expressing feelings he didn’t know how to handle. Looking at it now, it was just embarrassing.

With both hands on the keyboard, he glanced sideways. Their eyes met as if Kim Chayoung had been watching him too.

“What are you looking at?”

“You’re looking at me too. Can’t I look at you?”

“No. You can’t. You’ll wear me out.”

Kim Chayoung’s lips twitched slightly.

“Yeah. You shouldn’t wear out. I haven’t done anything yet.”

He turned his head and covered his eyes with one hand. Meanwhile, Lee Jinha quickly entered the password. Fortunately, the screen soon switched to the waiting screen. It was his first login in nearly four years, and many new characters had appeared since he last played.

Kim Chayoung propped his chin on one hand and stared intently at the screen. His elegant profile, composed of fine lines, looked quite serious. Does this really help? Lee Jinha focused on the monitor as well.

Without hesitation, Kim Chayoung took out a tablet pad and began drawing swiftly. He sketched with confidence, never pausing or making corrections. In just moments, a game character took shape under his hand.

“If you want to improve quickly, copying is the best. If you draw over 100 sheets a day, your hand will remember it later. It’s even better if the compositions are diverse.”

Is it similar to memorization study methods? As someone with no talent in drawing, it was just fascinating.

“Since we’re at a PC room, let’s play a game. We still have time anyway.”

Kim Chayoung put the tablet back in his bag and asked again, “Deal?”

“Sure.”

Since they were paying to use the place, they couldn’t waste it. They would use every last minute and second.

“Quick match?”

“Yeah.”

Quick Match, as the name suggested, meant they didn’t have to worry much about positions and could choose from various characters—even ones they hadn’t seen before. Although it was their first time using these characters, the controls would be similar since they played the same role.

Kim Chayoung also selected a character and entered the battlefield. Since they started at the same time, he assumed they would be on the same team—but they ended up as opponents.

It was like meeting an enemy on a narrow bridge.

Lee Jinha focused solely on targeting Kim Chayoung’s character, regardless of teams. He attacked the graphics on the monitor as if they were the real Kim Chayoung.

“Hey. Why are you only attacking me? There are other players right in front of you.”

Unfortunately, the match ended in a loss for his team. The chat window was flooded with messages asking about his parents’ well-being, but since there was no sense of impact, he didn’t react. He had trolled by only attacking Kim Chayoung in a team match.

“Are they crazy? They’re just saying whatever they want. Hey, move aside.”

Kim Chayoung was more agitated than Lee Jinha, the person involved. He asked him to move aside for a moment and leaned forward. Just before their shoulders touched, Lee Jinha quickly moved away.

“…”

His dark eyes narrowed as if measuring the distance that had widened. But it was only for a moment before he returned to his usual self. Kim Chayoung frowned as he looked at the chat window, which was still rapidly scrolling.

“Why are you just sitting there after hearing that? You react so sharply to everything I do.”

“I’m satisfied enough with having killed you.”

“Isn’t it a bit much to brag about winning just once? Think about our records so far.”

“That’s just your opinion. Besides, our records are almost the same. No, I’ve probably won more.”

“Let’s play one more round.”

Sure, whatever. Lee Jinha shrugged his shoulders in agreement. He could beat someone like Kim Chayoung even with his feet.

But the winner of the second match was also Kim Chayoung. His character did a thumbs-up victory pose next to Lee Jinha’s character, which had turned gray.

“Loser.”

Kim Chayoung flashed a sunny smile.

“Hey. Let’s play one last time.”

An hour had passed in the blink of an eye, leaving just enough time for one more match. He couldn’t end it with a loss to Kim Chayoung.

“Isn’t it boring to just play? There’s no tension.”

“Then let’s bet on something. Like we used to… back then.”

“Like what?”

Nothing came to mind. What would be good?

Back in high school, they used to bet on doing each other’s homework, waiting for each other when it was their turn, or cleaning together. But now, such intimate and cheesy things were out of the question.

They weren’t in that kind of relationship anymore.

“How about a meal bet? The loser buys the winner meals for a month.”

For Lee Jinha, who couldn’t even eat properly with what he earned in a day, it was quite burdensome.

“Are you scared? Is Lee Jinha a loser with no confidence?”

Kim Chayoung knew exactly how to get under someone’s skin. Even if someone else said or did the same things, it was always more irritating when he did it. Probably because of the lingering resentment Lee Jinha still held toward him.

He had no intention of losing. But if, by some chance, he really had to, he would just throw him a triangle kimbap. Since they hadn’t specified the type, it wouldn’t be breaking the rules.

Although even a triangle kimbap was a bit of a financial burden for Lee Jinha at the moment, it was a provocation he couldn’t just let slide.

Especially not from Kim Chayoung.

“Prepare your wallet.”

It was an acceptance.

“No backing out later. Whenever the other person wants, regardless of time or place.”

He almost retorted that it felt like being a slave—but stopped himself. Winning would solve everything.

When he nodded, Kim Chayoung smiled slyly and stretched his wrist. Lee Jinha pulled his chair closer, preparing himself thoroughly. Then, he chose the character he used to play when he was deeply immersed in the game.

“Wow. You’re really preparing thoroughly to win.”

“I’d like to say the same to you. The character you chose is completely opposite to mine.”

Kim Chayoung also chose a character from the past. This time, they faced off in a 1:1 match instead of a team match.

Lee Jinha displayed a level of concentration akin to studying for a major subject exam. His mouse flew, and his fingers danced on the keyboard. The screen changed so rapidly that it was dizzying.

Initially, Lee Jinha cornered Kim Chayoung, but at some point, he started to get pushed back. Eventually, his health was so low that one more hit would kill him. A curse slipped through his tightly clenched teeth. No, this wasn’t the ending he had envisioned.

“Huh.”

At that moment, Kim Chayoung made a crucial mistake—using an ultimate skill in the air. It was an empty move, uncharacteristic of someone with his top-tier skills, but for Lee Jinha, it was a golden opportunity.

He didn’t miss his chance. Seizing the opening, he unleashed a barrage of attacks on Kim Chayoung’s character. With a dazzling explosion effect, the remaining health of Kim Chayoung’s character drained rapidly, and a kill notification appeared.

Lee Jinha clenched his fist, savoring the thrill of victory.

“Did you see that? Loser.”

Lee Jinha grinned and threw the words back at Kim Chayoung.

ꕥ

Kim Chayoung (Contest Illustration)
Where are you? (12:03 PM)

What does it matter to him where I am? I frowned at the speech bubble on the screen.

Kim Chayoung (Contest Illustration)
Hey (12:15 PM)
Lee Jinha (12:16 PM)

Ignoring all the speech bubbles that appeared in succession, I focused on my assignment. The professor preferred handwritten reports, so transferring the organized content to paper took time.

“Lee Jinha. Isn’t your phone ringing?”

“No.”

“Really? Your phone’s going crazy. If it’s not debt collectors, just answer it.”

I had switched my phone to vibrate instead of silent because I never knew when calls from home or work might come. That was the problem.

I should just put it in my pocket.

Letting out a short sigh, I picked up my phone.

Kim Chayoung (Contest Illustration)
Aren’t you going to let me treat you to a meal? (12:23 PM)