Netkama Punch!!!

We left the event hall and arrived at a place called [Luxury Cheongdam Grill], which, despite its fancy name, turned out to be a shabby little barbecue joint.

Sliding the door open, I saw that the inside was even smaller than the exterior suggested. There were only six tables in total, three of which were shoved together on one side.
Half of the belongings scattered on those tables were eco-bags printed with the [Arcadia] logo. In other words, they were [Degeuldegeul] clan members.
The sight made me want to turn around and go home immediately, but Sim Woohyun was faster—he grabbed me by the arm and dragged me inside before I could escape.

A man with short blond hair slicked back, wearing an orange headband, pointed at Sim Woohyun as we entered.
“Huh? No way?”
“Told you, didn’t I? I said one word from me and they’d both show up.”

The smug look on Sim Woohyun’s face and the shocked expressions of the clan members made the atmosphere feel… strange.
Before I could even hesitate, Sim Woohyun plopped me down in the farthest corner seat, then stood back up, grinning slyly as he strolled around the tables with a beckoning gesture.
“Those who bet they wouldn’t come, pay up, please~.”

“No way, how did you convince them?”
“Cheating, obviously.”
“Damn scammer.”

Watching them grumble as they each handed over 10,000 won, I finally understood the situation—and felt my blood boil. Sim Woohyun, that bastard, had made a bet about whether Heejae and I would show up at this meetup. And I had walked right into it like an idiot.
“You told me Heejae comes to every meetup anyway…!”
“I told you he doesn’t.”

When I snapped at him, Sim Woohyun just grinned smugly, and to make things worse, Heejae sat down next to me and scolded me instead of Sim Woohyun, as if I were the one at fault.
He looked at me with genuine annoyance, as if he blamed me more than the idiot who dragged us here. And soon enough, he said it outright.
“Kim Seyoung, do you really think I’m some loser who spends all his time getting drunk with these guys?”

I answered reflexively.
“Uh… you don’t?”
“……”
Heejae stared at me with an expression that said he had a lot to say, then turned away, lips pressed tight. I realized too late that I’d said the wrong thing, but honestly…

‘Come on, does he really not get why I thought that? He looks like a total punk…’
I couldn’t shake the thought.
Everything about him—his clothes, his watch, his hairstyle—gave off a flashy, loud vibe. Even if it suited him, it still screamed “troublemaker.” Objectively speaking, he looked more like a cocky rich brat than a responsible adult. His posture, his arrogant attitude—it all overflowed with that “street punk” energy.

‘And those eyes too… You don’t see guys like him every day. Honestly, he looks like someone straight out of a TV drama, not real life.’
As someone who worked for a government agency, people like Shin Heejae were rare in my world. Naturally, I’d just assumed he drank, partied, and did all sorts of shallow crap in his free time.
But now, hearing everyone act surprised that he even showed up here…

‘Right. This guy has that whole “mysterious” image in the clan…’
I suddenly remembered how clan members had once pestered Yuna, begging her to describe what Heejae looked like. And with that memory, a wave of guilt hit me. I felt bad for buying into Sim Woohyun’s words so easily, even though I knew Heejae had a serious side.
Living with him, I’d seen firsthand how he stuck to his editing schedule, worked out every day… Why hadn’t I thought about how unlikely it was that he’d waste time drinking and going to meetups all the time? And come on, the way he’d flipped out over being called a “car poor” showed how much he cared about his image.

‘Crap… Did I hurt his feelings?’
I glanced at him nervously while pouring him some water, and of course, our eyes met. Heejae snatched the glass from me like a sulking kid and glared.
‘Okay, judging by that pout, he’s annoyed, but probably not that hurt.’

He even furrowed his brows extra hard, clearly trying to look angry on purpose. It was ridiculous.
Still, feeling a bit guilty, I awkwardly placed a napkin and chopsticks in front of him as a silent apology. He glared at it for a while, obviously torn, but eventually grabbed the chopsticks and picked up some salad.
I almost smiled watching him, but the moment his eyes flicked back to me, I bit my lip and looked away.

Bzzz—
Thankfully, his phone started buzzing right then. One glance at the screen and his face twisted into that ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) familiar grimace I’d seen at home before—work-related, obviously.
As expected, he stood up without a word and headed outside to take the call.

“Finally, the nuisance is gone.”
The moment Heejae slid the door shut, Sim Woohyun piped up. A few other people, who’d been quietly eating up until now, glanced at me too.
That’s when I realized the only reason no one had talked to me yet was because Heejae had been sitting there glaring like a guard dog.

‘What the hell is this vibe…’
My palms were sweating as I clenched my hands on my lap.
‘They’re gonna call me a netkama, aren’t they…’

I pressed my lips together nervously, waiting for the first insult, but instead, a quiet voice spoke up.
“Um… excuse me.”
I looked up to see a thin woman wearing glasses sitting at the far end of the table. She hesitated before asking the strangest question.

“Are you… Sesam-nim, by any chance?”
It threw me off, but not wanting to be rude, I answered.
“Uh? Ah… Yes.”

I saw her bite her tongue—on purpose.
‘What the…?’
“Uh… I’m Bakibug. Twenty-nine years old.”

“Ah… nice to meet you. I’m twenty-four.”
“……”
“……”

After introducing herself, she avoided eye contact so blatantly that the air grew painfully awkward. Though honestly, her shy behavior matched her in-game personality so perfectly that it didn’t feel out of place at all.
Then Sim Woohyun butted in, grinning like an idiot.
“Bakibug-nim, how long has it been since you talked to a normal person?”

“Shut up… baka…”
Bakibug bit her lip and muttered something that sounded vaguely Japanese, making Sim Woohyun laugh even harder. I felt embarrassed just watching.
Two guys sitting next to her, busy grilling meat, suddenly turned to me as if they’d just remembered they should introduce themselves.

“Oh, I’m Gyeoksal. Twenty-five.”
“I’m Seo Myungwoo. Same age as him.”
“Hey, Myungwoo, it’s a meetup. Use your nickname.”

“Like they can’t tell I’m Apssal. I’m the only one here who’s friends with Haejung.”
“Who are you again?”
“You bastard.”

“Ah… nice to… meet you.”
The two of them bickered nonstop, obviously close friends.
Gyeoksal—apparently “Haejung”—was shorter, with narrow eyes and a mischievous look. Myungwoo, or Apssal, was big and broad-shouldered, the type who looked serious until he opened his mouth. Judging by their playful fighting, you’d think Gyeoksal was the dominant one despite being smaller.

While glancing at them, my eyes met a woman sitting nearby, quietly devouring meat at a ridiculous speed.
“Mmrmgh? Hohohong.”
She smiled politely despite her stuffed cheeks, so I returned an awkward greeting.

“Uh… hello.”
I wouldn’t have known who she was if Sim Woohyun hadn’t said, “FlowerWall-nim, wait until it’s cooked…” Her table was piled high with empty meat plates; clearly, she was focused on only one thing tonight.
Next to her sat another woman with her legs crossed, who didn’t even look at me when she spoke.

“Hey. I’m Dijimong. I’m twenty.”
“Ah, hello.”
“Since I’m younger, don’t talk casually to me, okay?”

“Uh? Oh… okay…”
Then she bit the end of her chopsticks and started typing furiously on her phone, completely ignoring me again.