I Got Isekai'd Into a Manga I Don't Know

*Ding-a-ling! Ding-a-ling!*

"Oh, you're finally here…"

Saionji Kumiko turned at the sound of the shop's door opening, only to freeze in shock. Standing next to Kim Yuseong were the two people who were supposed to be secretly supporting her from the shadows.

Minami and Shinjiro avoided her gaze like guilty culprits. Meanwhile, Yuseong, unaware of the situation, explained their presence.

"I ran into the vice president in the restroom. Apparently, he and Minami came to Nakano to hang out today. Since I owe them a lot, I thought I'd treat them to a meal."

Fortunately, it seemed their tailing hadn't been exposed. With the two naturally joining our group, the four of us lined up at the counter seats. Minami, sitting next to Kumiko, whispered an explanation.

'Sorry, miss. My idiot brother ran into Yuseong in the restroom, and I got dragged into it.'

'It's already happened, so no helping it. For now, let's stick together. We can split up naturally later.'

'Understood.'

Soon, Yuseong's and Kumiko's ramen arrived. While she'd seen ramen on TV, this was her first time eating it like this. As she hesitated, unsure how to start, Minami stepped in.

"Excuse me."

Minami pulled a pair of wooden chopsticks from the holder, split them, and handed Kumiko a spoon for the broth and chopsticks for the noodles.

"Miss, ramen is about enjoying the broth and noodles together. Everyone has their own way, but usually, you taste the broth first, then eat the noodles."

"…I think I get it."

In other words, the broth was just as important as the noodles. Recalling how she ate soba, Kumiko cautiously scooped a spoonful of broth and brought it to her lips.

"Mm!"

Clean yet rich.

The slightly salty chicken-based broth spread through her mouth, warming her stomach with a pleasant heat. Following Minami's advice, she took a bite of the noodles. The springy noodles, soaked in broth, slid into her mouth, creating a perfect harmony.

"Hah."

A Möbius strip of eating—broth, noodles, repeat. She couldn't stop!

Lost in the first ramen experience of her life, Kumiko ate with fervor. The other three student council members watched her with fond smiles.

---

After finishing our ramen, the mood shifted to sticking together since we'd all met up. We headed to the arcade on the first floor of Nakano Broadway. The complex had three arcades, but the one on the fourth floor was for fighting game enthusiasts, so casual visitors like us stuck to the two on the first floor.

The first-floor arcades were packed with classic games: rhythm games, shooters, sticker photo booths, UFO catchers, and more—the quintessential arcade experience. The president got hooked on a UFO catcher, burning through 1,000 yen in ten minutes trying to win a plushie. She might've spent more if Minami hadn't stepped in to snag it for her.

The vice president, Shinjiro, seemed to have a peculiar pride in fighting games and boldly challenged me. After scoring a single win, he gloated, "Hmph, is that all, Kim Yuseong? So much for Koreans being good at games!"

I hadn't cared much at first, but his jab about Koreans being bad at games struck a nerve. Unleashing my main character and some dirty tricks I'd kept sealed for fair play, I utterly crushed him, leaving him no chance to fight back.

"Argh! I was just caught off guard! One more round!"

Shinjiro switched characters and challenged me twice more, but he didn't win a single time. Back in college, I used to hit the arcade with friends after drinks, so I knew this game inside out.

Returning to the president with a sulky Shinjiro in tow, we found her playing a spot-the-difference game with Minami. She looked up and asked, "All done?"

"Yeah. I won every round," I replied.

"Hehe, looks like Shinjiro needs more practice. He's always going on about loving games," Kumiko teased.

While waiting for their game to finish, I wondered what to do next. That's when a punch machine near the arcade entrance caught my eye. Shinjiro noticed it too. His shoulders, slumped from defeat, perked up as his eyes gleamed.

"Kim Yuseong! Let's settle this with that!"

"The punch machine?"

"Yes! A real man fights with his body, not just games!"

"I don't really want to—"

Before I could refuse, Shinjiro's glasses glinted as he smirked. "What, scared you'll lose to me?"

That got under my skin, but I nodded calmly. "I just don't want to break the machine."

"Then I'll go first."

Shinjiro strode toward the punch machine. The ultimate hotspot for high school boys, impossible to pass by. Standing before it, he chuckled and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Yuseong, I never told you, but…"

As he shed his shirt, his chiseled muscles—hidden beneath his lanky frame—came into view. "…I look skinny with clothes on."

Huh? What?

I couldn't help but stare, dumbfounded, at his physics-defying physique. I knew Shinjiro was surprisingly strong despite his slender build, but this was a total plot twist. How could that much muscle be concealed under a shirt? It was like his entire frame transformed.

As I blinked in disbelief at this manga-like reveal, Shinjiro—now evolved from a nerdy glasses-wearer to a post-apocalyptic badass—assumed a perfect punching stance. His straight punch, carrying his full weight, slammed into the machine's red target.

*BOOM!*

A deafening crash echoed as the punch machine's score skyrocketed.

*Beep-beep-beep—Ding!*

960 points.

With a single blow, Shinjiro shattered the machine's high score. Flexing his bulging arm muscles, he turned to me. "Your turn, Yuseong."

The commotion drew a crowd, and passersby stopped to watch with interest. The atmosphere practically demanded I take up the challenge. I glanced at the president and Minami, hoping for an out, but they were staring at the punch machine with equal curiosity.

"I've always wondered what kind of power you'd unleash at full strength, Kim Yuseong-kun," Kumiko said.

"If you're worried about breaking it, don't be. I'll cover the full cost if it does," Minami added, pulling a card from her pocket.

*Seriously, they're egging me on like this?*

The flow felt inescapable, like a duel I couldn't back out of. With everyone's expectant gazes on me, I had no choice but to decide.

"…Fine. I'll do it."

I rotated my wrists and stepped up to the punch machine. From my time trying out sports clubs, I'd realized my body had some kind of comedic muscle buff, far beyond normal limits. They say leg strength is three times that of arms, meaning punches are inherently weaker. But with my current self, I felt like I could obliterate the machine in one hit.

That'd draw too much attention, though, so I'd have to break it more subtly.

"Hoo…"

Raising my fist to waist level, I took a short breath, twisted my hips, and threw a straight punch.

*WHAM!*

The moment my fist connected with the pad, the steel frame supporting it buckled with a loud snap, bending backward and crashing to the arcade floor.

*Beep-beep-beep—Ding!*

0 points.

The machine deemed the score invalid due to damage, but the crowd, which had been holding its breath, erupted in cheers.

"WOOOAH!"

"That's what I'm talking about!"

Apparently, breaking the machine outright was more impressive than just scoring high, like Shinjiro did. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. Shinjiro, watching from the side, clicked his tongue and said, "I'll call it a draw today, Yuseong. But next time, I won't lose."

"Uh, sure."

His oddly competitive tone left me nodding awkwardly. *Was losing at the game that frustrating?*