Netkama Punch!!!

‘What’s up with this person…?’
The second she opened her mouth, her blunt tone made me tense up. At first, I thought maybe I misheard her. But then she swept her eyes over me with a cold, assessing look that made me wonder if I’d done something wrong. She was the kind of person who made others nervous without even trying.
But when she saw my awkward expression, Dijimong relaxed just a little, the guarded look fading. She gave a sly smile, as if her earlier blank expression had been an act, then flipped her phone over and set it down before tossing back a shot of soju.

Then she said in a husky voice,
“To be honest, I like drinking. If someone doesn’t drink well, I don’t usually get close to them.”
“…Oh. I see.”

The way she said it made me feel like I had to drink, too, so I picked up my glass and followed suit. She smiled even wider at that—a smile that, frankly, didn’t look like it belonged to someone who was twenty. It felt more like… a seasoned flirt.
That’s when a guy sitting across from her chimed in mockingly.
“You’re twenty? Come on, have some shame.”

I froze a little, unsure how to react. Meanwhile, Dijimong calmly refilled her shot glass, stuck her tongue out, and said,
“Cut it out, Manbong.”
“I told you to stop calling me that, damn it!”

He was the guy with the bleach blond hair and orange headband we saw when we first walked into the restaurant. Apparently, she’d called him by his old name, and he slammed his soju glass on the table in protest.
“I changed my name when I was ten! I’ve told you like ten times—it’s Seo Hyeonjun now!”
Sim Woohyun, who’d been quietly watching with amusement, covered his mouth like a fox and whispered to me the guy’s in-game name.

“That’s Magic-nim.”
“Oh.”
So this was svMagicvs? Out of everyone here, he looked the most different from what I’d imagined.

Then, suddenly, Magic-nim lowered his voice and leaned toward me, glaring at Dijimong as he whispered,
“Whatever you do, don’t tell her any secrets…”
“Manbong?”
“…”

The second she said his old name again, he immediately recoiled like a scolded puppy, despite having just acted so cocky.
At that moment, Sim Woohyun came over with a soju bottle, filled my empty glass, and said teasingly,
“Sebyeok-hyung, you’re basically besties with the Degeuldegeul crew now, huh?”

“…I don’t think that’s quite right.”
Even though I answered honestly, Sim Woohyun just grinned and offered his glass for me to fill. I poured without protest.
The problem was… even though I wasn’t in a great mood and still felt a little tense, the soju tasted weirdly sweet tonight.

‘That always means I’m gonna end up drunk…’
At least Heejae was here, so I’d get home safely.
I stared at my empty glass, conflicted. In the meantime, Sim Woohyun casually slid into the seat Heejae had vacated and expertly began cutting away the burnt edges from the meat.

He trimmed it neatly with scissors and placed only the good pieces on my plate.
“Hyung, want me to make a wrap for you?”
“No.”

“Knew it. You look like the type who wouldn’t eat something someone else touched with their bare hands.”
“….”
It ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) was our first time sharing a meal, and somehow he already knew I didn’t like eating food someone had handled without washing their hands. No idea how.

But even though I turned him down, he didn’t tease me. Instead, he just smiled and showed me how he eats it himself, and when I followed his lead, it was good.
‘What’s with this comfortable vibe…?’
As I kept eating the meat he grilled, I looked around.

When I made eye contact with other clan members, they either gave me awkward smiles or quickly looked away. But the atmosphere wasn’t so stiff that I wanted to run away, either.
It was more like… they were somewhat interested in me, somewhat not. Like I wasn’t the center of attention, but not entirely ignored either. Maybe it was because they were all already close with each other. It felt kind of like being on the subway, listening to music through headphones—distant but not unwelcome.
That kind of comfortable indifference… It might’ve just been the soju talking, but it wasn’t a bad feeling.

Especially with Sim Woohyun quietly chatting next to me, telling stories in a gentle voice that always seemed to hit the things I was curious about.
“I’ve got a video of Shin Heejae from his early YouTube days—he uploaded it and deleted it ‘cause it was too embarrassing. Want to see it?”
“What is it?”

“He only left it up for one day. But I downloaded it. If he knew I showed you, he’d kill me though.”
“Show me.”
I leaned in suddenly, and Woohyun flinched, pulling back a little in surprise. I quickly backed off, feeling awkward.

“…”
“…”
The spot Woohyun was sitting in was originally Heejae’s, so Heejae’s [Arcadia] gift bag was there. As Woohyun moved, his elbow knocked it off the chair and onto the floor.

Of course, the contents spilled out right away, making a loud rustling sound.
“Oops, oops.”
Woohyun bent down and started picking things up, but then he froze and started flipping through a notebook.

Then…
“Pfffft—oh my God. What the hell, this psycho. Pwahahahaha!”
He burst out laughing so hard that even the other clan members paused their conversations to look.

At first, I didn’t get it—until I glanced at the notebook in his hand and saw what looked like… a half-drawn sketch of my face.
“…”
Only then did it hit me—that’s what Heejae had been doing all night, sneaking glances at me.

He’d been sketching me the whole time.
Even though it wasn’t finished, it was surprisingly good. The rough lines drawn with a pen made my face look oddly real, and my buzz immediately wore off.
Slam.

Right then, Heejae came back through the sliding door and took in the scene in exactly one second.
I’d never seen his face turn so red.
“Ah, fuck!”

He stormed over and shoved Sim Woohyun aside, snatching the notebook out of his hands.
Watching him up close, I suddenly felt the three-year age gap between us for the first time.
And strangely, it wasn’t the drawing itself that got to me. It was seeing him clench the notebook in one hand, trembling all over, his face flushed with embarrassment.

My heart started racing.
I stepped back and stood behind Heejae. Somehow, I didn’t want him to see my face right now.
But of course, Woohyun noticed anyway. He looked over Heejae’s shoulder and grinned at me when our eyes met.

I had no idea what kind of face I was making. I just knew I couldn’t show it to anyone—so I turned away.
While I stared down at the floor, Woohyun’s amused voice drifted over.
“Heejae, seriously, your drawing’s gotten even better.”

“Shut up.”
Heejae, still furious, crumpled the notebook and stuffed it into his bag, then turned around—like he was checking if I’d seen it.
I kept my expression neutral and didn’t say a word.

He seemed a little relieved, then quickly rolled up the eco-bag and shoved it deep into the storage compartment under his seat.
The sketch disappeared from sight, but it remained burned into my brain.
‘…Is he stupid?’

That’s all I could think after seeing the drawing. Like, is he seriously dumb?
Why the hell was he drawing me? And how could he let someone see it?
It just didn’t make any sense.

He spent four hours hunched over that notebook, not even touching the snacks they passed out. And every time I tried to sneak a peek, he’d cover it with one of his giant hands.
“…”
No one had ever secretly drawn me before, so I didn’t even know how to describe what I was feeling right now.

I kept drinking to drown out the frustration. When Woohyun asked if I was drinking too fast, I ignored him.
“…Hey.”
I waited until Woohyun had moved to another seat before finally calling out to Shin Heejae, who had been unusually quiet since the sketch incident.

He looked up mid-chew, startled.
“What.”
“…Why are you so good at drawing?”

“Ah, fuck—Sim Woohyun, you fucking asshole!”
He exploded, his voice full of embarrassment and rage. But when I reached under the table and grabbed one of his fingers, he flinched and stared at me.
His eyes were full of questions, but his index finger stayed perfectly still in my hand, obedient and oddly vulnerable.

‘What the hell am I doing… I must be drunk…’
I thought that, but I couldn’t stop my lips from twitching up. Or maybe I just didn’t try.
He stared at me in silence, like he was spellbound. Then suddenly, he murmured,

“…Kim Seyoung, are you drunk?”
I frowned slightly at the casual tone, but let it slide. I tapped his phone’s griptok.
“Hey… draw this. This one.”

“…”
Then I handed him a napkin.
He scrunched his brows but obediently opened the seat compartment, took out a pen, and started sketching the pomeranian printed on his griptok, just like I told him to.

It was… pretty cute.
The pomeranian, I mean.