The game center’s signboard flashed so brightly it stood out even in the middle of the day. Cool air from the AC drifted through the spacious interior as they stepped inside.
Because of the time, it wasn’t very crowded. At most, a few groups of college students hung around in twos and threes. Thanks to that, the two of them could walk side by side down the wide aisles without bumping into anyone.
“Do you come to places like this often?”
“I used to, sometimes. Back in high school, with my friends.”
“Yeah?”
“What about you, sunbae?”
“Me? If I pass one while drinking, I’ll usually drop in.”
Jae-ha had a couple of friends who always wanted to play claw machines or arcade games when they were drunk—Min-ho, his classmate, was one of them. Honestly, he’d ended up at this very place quite a lot because of Min-ho.
By contrast, Hae-hyun looked around with a stiff expression, glancing uneasily at the rows of flashing machines. It was obvious he wasn’t familiar with the setting.
“What kind of games have you played before?”
“Uh… just this and that. Whatever.”
Jae-ha dug through his bag and, luckily, found a few leftover bills. After shaking out his pockets and exchanging them, he came away with a handful of coins, half of which he passed to Hae-hyun.
“Then let’s start with something easy. Hmm…”
Something a beginner could handle. When Jae-ha stepped forward, Hae-hyun trailed closely behind.
He stopped in front of a shooting game. On the screen, zombies came crawling out in swarms, waiting to be taken down with toy rifles.
“When it starts, just shoot every zombie you see. Reload like this.”
After a quick explanation, Jae-ha dropped in a coin. Diriririk. Loud sound effects blared as the game began. He squared up casually, the plastic gun fitting nicely in his grip.
Beside him, Hae-hyun copied his stance, clumsily raising his gun. The awkward effort was cute enough that Jae-ha had to stifle a laugh.
But after they cleared the first-round boss, Jae-ha muttered in disbelief,
“…You’re actually good at this.”
Better than expected—no, seriously good. At first, he seemed a little slow, but once he got into the rhythm, his speed picked up, and his aim wasn’t bad either. The screen cleared smoothly, one wave after another. Jae-ha kept glancing over, ready to step in if needed, but there was nothing for him to do. Hae-hyun’s performance was sharp.
“Really?”
“You’ve played this before?”
“Just once or twice. In high school.”
To reach this level after just one or two tries—if he’d played seriously, he could’ve been arcade royalty. Jae-ha readjusted his grip. The screen background shifted, and another horde of zombies shuffled closer.
They lasted longer than Jae-ha ever had before, finally reaching game over only after setting a personal best. Granted, it was unfair to compare—he’d usually played this drunk, and Hae-hyun was sober—but still, the difference was overwhelming.
Just as Jae-ha was lowering his gun, impressed, he caught sight of Hae-hyun glaring at the bloody Game Over text on the screen. He didn’t look like he planned to quit.
“…Want to go again?”
“Can we?”
Hae-hyun whipped his head toward him. He tried to hide it, but his eyes sparkled with excitement. Competitive, wasn’t he? Jae-ha chuckled and slipped another coin into the slot. No reason to deny him when he looked that eager.
They died over and over again at the last boss fight until finally—finally—they cleared the game. Only then did they set down their guns with satisfaction.
“This is the first time I’ve ever seen the ending.”
As the characters jumped into a helicopter hovering above the rooftop and escaped the building, Jae-ha muttered. Normally, when he lost halfway, he’d just laugh it off and move on, but this was the first time he’d stuck it out all the way to the end.
It struck him as funny—how focused they’d both been, silent except for the moments when they pointed out the boss’s shifting weak spots. He burst out laughing.
“We were really into it, huh?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Hae-hyun glancing at him. A smile softened his smooth features.
“Yeah. That was fun.”
Their next stop was the aisle lined with claw machines. Scanning the prizes inside each machine, Jae-ha mused aloud,
“Would the smaller ones be easier, or the bigger ones?”
The fluffy plush dolls seemed easy to grab, but the smaller ones—with more corners to hook—looked promising too. Hae-hyun leaned in, peering through the acrylic glass. After a moment, his long fingers pointed at something.
“This one looks like you, sunbae.”
“What?”
“I want that one.”
Before Jae-ha could stop him, Hae-hyun had already inserted a coin. Jae-ha followed his gaze. The target was a fox plush, plump with stuffing, about the size of a forearm, sporting three tails.
The spirit was good, but the doll was wedged too deep, and the claw couldn’t get a proper grip. After a few failed attempts, Jae-ha suggested,
“Maybe try for something else? That bear on top looks easier.”
Still staring intently at the machine, Hae-hyun replied,
“No. I’m getting my sunbae.”
“…Your sunbae’s standing right here, you know.”
Even Jae-ha’s exasperated remark didn’t deter him. Unbelievable. Shaking his head, Jae-ha’s eyes drifted to a machine a little farther away, where the box was crammed with plush toys.
After nearly draining his stash of coins, Hae-hyun finally snagged the fox he wanted. With a thunk, it dropped into the slot. Beaming, he lifted it up.
“Sunbae, look.”
“You actually got it?”
Clicking his tongue, Jae-ha stepped closer. The fox wasn’t particularly small, but it looked that way in Hae-hyun’s hands.
“I’m putting this on my sofa. It’ll be your avatar.”
“Hey, it looks nothing like me.”
“Yes, it does. It’s sooo—”
His excited words trailed off when his gaze shifted behind Jae-ha. With a sly grin, Jae-ha revealed what he’d been hiding behind his back.
“This one looks like you.”
It was a stuffed dog, three times bigger than the fox, lying flat on its belly. In Jae-ha’s arms, it almost looked like it was hugging him. Hae-hyun’s eyes widened as he stared between the plush and Jae-ha.
“Sunbae…”
The resemblance to Hae-hyun’s puppy form had been so strong that Jae-ha hadn’t been able to resist grabbing it. He smirked and patted the toy’s rear.
“Actually… this one might be cuter than you.”
“Sunbae!”
Hae-hyun suddenly shouted, making Jae-ha flinch. What, was he angry? Before Jae-ha could smooth things over, Hae-hyun blurted out indignantly,
“I’m way better-looking than that thing!”
His pout deepened, his whole face puffed up with frustration.
“How could you say that, sunbae? Do I look that ugly to you? How could you compare me to some ugly mutt? Do you know how many compliments I get on the street? Everyone’s dying to pet me, okay?”
Bragging again.
“You look pretty similar, though.”
Most plush dogs were designed to look soft and cute, but this one was rare—sharp, almost fierce. Crude workmanship aside, the resemblance really was uncanny. As Jae-ha turned it over in his arms, the plush was suddenly snatched away.
“Forget it. You hold this instead.”
Still sulking, Hae-hyun grabbed the dog by the scruff and shoved the fox into Jae-ha’s arms. Taken aback, Jae-ha accepted the swap and teased,
“Why? I was gonna put it on my bed.”
“Where would you put it? Your bed’s already tiny.”
“It’s roomier when you’re in puppy form. You should just sleep like that from now on.”
Hae-hyun froze. His eyes locked on Jae-ha, his expression oddly serious.
“So you want me to sleep naked?”
“…Forget I said that.”
Sure, dogs didn’t wear clothes, but they had fur, so you didn’t exactly think of them as naked. Wait. Did that mean this kid had been sleeping next to him naked all along? When he sulked and turned into a dog, that was basically naked too, wasn’t it? Hold on—when they first met, he’d been in dog form as well. So he’d been wandering around outside, homeless, completely naked? That was… downright perverted.
While Jae-ha’s thoughts spiraled in disbelief, Hae-hyun tugged his wrist.
“Sunbae, let’s do that one next.”
“Huh?”
