Names and Boundaries

I forced myself to keep smiling while sensing the unfamiliar weight in my pocket.

That ‘Situation Terminal function’ or whatever it was must have formed on its own inside my pocket.

The silver-haired man who had lifted me earlier was named Jeong Iheon.

It was that sly man who had introduced everyone’s names to me, triggering the disaster.

Jeong Iheon, completely unaware of the impact he’d had on me, smiled with his wide-set eyes curving gently.

He smiled so softly that his bright sky-blue eyes nearly disappeared, then laid his hand over my palm.

His skin was cold, utterly devoid of warmth, when it touched me.

It clearly had the shape of skin, yet when our hands met like this, the solid sensation of machinery came through, which felt strangely fascinating.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t move his fingers delicately at all.

With our hands clasped, he covered my entire hand with his large one and applied a subtle pressure.

It was a slow, suggestive movement, as if gently awakening sensation.

His face carried the confidence of someone who knew his looks worked on the opposite s*x.

“Well then, nice to meet you, friend.”

He said it in a voice that sounded like a breath slipping out.

“So, what’s our friend’s name?”

“…Doya.”

“Doya? Just Do? That’s unusual.”

“No. My surname is Go, my given name is Doya. I don’t really like my surname. Just call me Doya.”

“…That’s still pretty distinctive.”

Hearing my name, Jeong Iheon murmured with interest, his brow creasing slightly.

“Go Doya…. There’s a motif behind that name, isn’t there?”

Won-gyeong, who had been observing me from Iheon’s side, spoke up.

Even while stitching Hyeon Jaeyul’s head with incredible dexterity, his expression unchanged, a spark of curiosity rose in his eyes.

Maybe he found other people’s names amusing.

I pulled my hand free from Iheon’s loose grip and nodded.

I didn’t know what intentions my parents had when they gave me this name, but ever since I could remember, the walls of the house I lived in had been covered in scattered quotations from a certain book.

“Probably.”

I nodded again in affirmation.

The sentences on the ceiling that I always saw first whenever I opened my eyes in bed.

Written in careful, delicate handwriting, as if begging me to remember them.

They came back to me naturally.

Godot was the name of the protagonist in that play.

“Will we see him tomorrow?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe! Yes, maybe he won’t come because he’s forgotten us.”

“That could be.”

“Godot forgets everything so easily….”

“But he’ll come.”

“He promised.”

“Yes, because he promised….”

“(Uneasily) …He’ll remember that he promised to save us, right?”

(Silence)

“Maybe.”

(They stare into the distant void.)

I really had an unbearably heavy name.

A name that made everyone wait for me like salvation.

“Today was the day we were supposed to meet, right?”

“No, maybe tomorrow.”

“Then we should come out and wait again tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

(Pause)

(A long silence follows.)

“…Do you think Godot will remember the promise tomorrow?”

“If it’s tomorrow, maybe.”

“What a hopeful answer.”

(Another silence.)

“Nice to meet you, Doya.”

I really hated my name.

I especially hated having my surname attached to it.

Maybe he was perceptive, because the moment I asked, he stopped using my surname altogether.

I realized why as soon as Won-gyeong spoke next.

“I hate my surname too. That’s why I’ve never told anyone.”

Won-gyeong said with a gentle smile.

His tone was playful, like he was soothing a younger sibling.

Iheon and Won-gyeong treated me like we’d known each other for years the moment names were exchanged.

Meanwhile, the man glaring coldly at me from the back didn’t seem interested in talking to me at all.

Compared to those being friendly, Ju Noeul’s curt attitude was actually the most welcome.

We wouldn’t be seeing each other again anyway.

“How old are you, Doya? You look young. You’re not a minor, are you?”

Friend?

Iheon asked, slapping on that irritating label.

I’d never met anyone who casually called others ‘friend’ and turned out decent.

They were always hyenas trying to tear something out of that ‘friend’.

This time, I shook my head as I answered.

“I get told I look young a lot. But I’m twenty-three.

I’ve been an adult for a long time.

How old are you, calling me your friend?”

I pointed out the title I disliked.

It was so absurd that I forgot to keep up my fragile act.

Honestly, I didn’t think Jeong Iheon looked younger than me at all, but the way he addressed me so freely annoyed me.

Despite the irritation creeping into my tone, he kept smiling as he replied.

“Perfect timing. I’m twenty-three too. That means we’re perfect friends.”

Iheon said brightly, slinging an arm over my shoulder and acting overly familiar.

I was a little surprised when I heard his age.

‘He looks older.’

I’d thought he was at least twenty-six.

That level of ease and slickness didn’t feel like something a guy who’d just turned twenty-three should have.

“But you know, Doya.”

He whispered, his smile never fading.

“From what I know, Hyeon Jaeyul is twenty-five.

But you call him Jaeyul so casually? You’re twenty-three, right?”

Damn it.

“Are you equals?”

Iheon dragged out his words, testing me, and tightened the arm draped over my shoulder.

There had to be at least a twenty-centimeter height difference between us.

Even though he looked like the shortest among them, his size was still intimidating to me.

Pulling me firmly into his chest, he asked again.

I felt threatened by the gesture, but it seemed like Iheon wasn’t actually using much force.

He didn’t appear to be trying to overpower me.

It felt more like physical contact was second nature to him, actions slipping out unconsciously.

His relaxed chest muscles pressed softly against my face.

‘What is this.’

…It felt ridiculously good.

Soft yet firm.

Like pressing my face into warm, elastic dough….

‘No, this is not the time for thoughts like that!’

It had been a long time since a man’s body had felt this pleasant.

I’d mostly been surrounded by men with withered, dead-tree-like bodies or round bellies that didn’t even fold.

The contrast was shocking.

And the nature of that shock was immediately spelled out in text.

[An increase in the player’s affection has been detected!]

[Depending on the player’s affection level, various events may be generated!]

Relieved that only I could see the system’s message, I pulled myself together, tearing my attention away from his chest.

‘Is this how dating sims work, checking the player’s affection?’

I’d never played one, but… that didn’t seem right.

‘Shouldn’t it be checking the capture targets’ affection instead? Why is it tracking my emotions?’

I glanced at the system, unsettled.

And wait, it could even read my feelings?

‘…That’s seriously unpleasant.’

Seeing my unspoken emotions detected and neatly laid out in text felt awful.

It was proof that it was intruding into the most private parts of my mind.

I didn’t know how it worked, but I wanted it to stop judging my emotions.

Just as I thought that—

[You may disable player affection tracking.]

[Disabling affection tracking may interfere with the system’s ability to provide smooth game content.]

[The system generates appropriate events based on the player’s affection level.]

[Would you like to disable it?]

‘What the hell, if I could turn it off, you should’ve said so earlier!’

I blinked slowly, about to agree and shut down this disgusting emotional surveillance—

[TIP! It is recommended to keep the system’s default settings.]

[TIP! Even if affection tracking is disabled, the affection system may still activate in certain situations. On or off, it’s basically the same!]

The system hurriedly spat out tips.

I narrowed my eyes and examined the messages.

‘This feels like there are two systems running.’

One system that responded to my will, and another that generated tips and guidance regardless of my intent.

It felt like two versions were operating simultaneously.

Now that the game had started progressing, those traits were beginning to surface.

“Doya, what exactly is your relationship with Hyeon Jaeyul?”

While my attention was briefly caught by this new realization about the system, Iheon pressed me again.

He tapped my arm with the firm fingers wrapped around it, drawing my focus back.

‘But what’s with these fingers sneaking toward the inside of my arm?
Is this supposed to be seductive?’

His hand was large enough to grip my entire arm with one hand, making it hard to tell whether he was deliberately stroking the inside or if his fingers just naturally landed there.

‘Why is this guy so casually physical?’

I pouted in displeasure.

“Just tell me. I won’t tell anyone else, okay?”

You’re saying that while everyone’s standing right here listening.

I looked at Iheon, shamelessly asking, and the two men staring straight at us, then opened my mouth.

“You call him that too. It’s always been like that.

Hyeon Jaeyul never made a big deal out of things like this.

He didn’t care much about hierarchy or formality….”

I said it after piecing together what little information I had about Hyeon Jaeyul.

Jeong Iheon casually calling him Jaeyul, Won-gyeong doing the same, and Ju Noeul not even using his name and just calling him an idiot.

Put together, it was easy to tell that Hyeon Jaeyul wasn’t the type to assert authority.