Chapter 82: Unpredictable Connections and Unexpected Revelations

“Why aren’t you guys surprised? Am I the only one who’s shocked right now?”

At Lumen’s words, the others responded.

“We’ve already seen her before.”

“I’ve met Yurim before as well!”

“…I even spent time at a training camp with her. Can I eat my chocolate bar now?”

The responses came from Moss, Chocobun, and Chae Narin respectively.

It made sense that Chae Narin had spent time with Han Yurim during the training camp, and Moss, being a tax accountant, had obviously met her too.

While Chocobun’s response was unexpected, it seemed like a coincidence, so Lumen let it slide.

He understood their reactions, but he couldn’t understand the response of one other person.

With a confused tone, Lumen turned to Paepae and asked, “Paepae, why aren’t you surprised? Did you secretly meet Han Yurim without telling me?”

“Just by observing her actions, you could easily guess what she might look like.”

“As long as you didn’t meet her secretly, that’s fine.”

He would have felt hurt if that were the case.

“Everyone.”

Han Yurim stood up and began to speak.

Her blue-toned dress fluttered as she moved. The dress was a modernized version of the iconic ‘Alice in Wonderland’ outfit, commonly referred to as an “Alice look.”

It was also a dress designed by Thierry.

“Thanks to all of you, our team—”

“So, what’s with Han Yurim’s outfit? Does anyone know?”

At Lumen’s question, Moss added, “I have no idea. Bunnyrun, do you know anything?”

“How would I know what my sister is thinking? It’d be easier to understand a turtle’s thoughts.”

“…I’m not a turtle.”

“Thanks to all of you, our team—”

Ignoring the interruptions, Han Yurim resolutely continued the prepared speech.

Paepae suddenly interjected, “You wore that for Lumen, didn’t you?”

Lumen was startled, his eyes widening in shock.

Me? Why?

As his mind spiraled in confusion, Han Yurim nodded.

“That’s right.”

“Why?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing special. I just thought it’d be good to show you since Bbangbbang will have to cosplay soon.”

“Ah.”

Lumen let out a low groan.

Come to think of it, the wish coupon was still in play.

He groaned again in frustration.

“Please, go easy on me. If you pick something too intense, I won’t be able to handle it.”

“I’ll think about it. So, what do you think?”

“About what?”

“If we order cosplay outfits from here, the production will be done locally. How’s the quality?”

Han Yurim twirled around, causing her dress to spin elegantly.

Caught up in the mesmerizing sway of the dress’s hem, Lumen clenched his lips tightly.

Absolutely, absolutely, absolutely—no one could find out.

Returning to her original posture, Han Yurim spoke again.

“Do you like it?”

“…CH?”

“Then I’ll place the order here.”

“Just to be sure, what kind of cosplay are you planning to make me do?”

“That’s classified information.”

“You’re like a cosplay addict from the future—oh, wait, you’ve already cosplayed yourself!”

Lumen quickly changed the subject, secretly letting out a sigh of relief.

His secret preferences had been preserved.

The truth was, what had stunned Lumen when he first saw Han Yurim wasn’t just the cosplay.

Of course, that was part of it, but there was a bigger reason.

It was his personal taste.

Lumen’s username was ‘BbangbbangiJoa,’ a playful nickname derived from the Korean meme “Bbangnong,” which indicated a preference for voluptuous women.

The name was a reflection of the influence of his friends, Paepae and Han Yurim, who often discussed things like “virginal idealism” and the appeal of forbidden romances.

However, unlike his friends, Lumen had been too embarrassed to fully express his tastes, so he deliberately gave his username a misleading twist.

In reality, Lumen didn’t like voluptuous women at all.

He was more into slender, petite girls.

And now, standing before him was Han Yurim, who fit his ideal type perfectly.

It wasn’t strange that he’d momentarily freeze in place.

“Hmm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

For some reason, Han Yurim’s gaze felt unusually sharp.

‘She doesn’t know, does she?’

No, she couldn’t possibly know.

Lumen had always kept his true preferences hidden, outwardly pretending to have more common tastes.

Han Yurim tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and spoke again.

“Bbangbbang, you still care too much about what other people think, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about the sports car you left in the parking lot.”

“Is that really what you’re referring to?”

“Of course.”

Although her smile seemed innocent, Lumen found Han Yurim’s expression oddly suspicious. Nevertheless, he took a sip of water.

‘Why is the food taking so long?’

Feeling awkward, Lumen shifted the focus to Paepae.

“Paepae, why have you been so quiet? Are you feeling sick?”

“I’m just hungry.”

Paepae responded nonchalantly as he calmly sipped his water.

But in truth, Paepae was just as flustered as Lumen.

The human imagination is limitless.

Humans often imagine scenarios that stretch beyond the boundaries of time and space.

Thus, when reality clashes with imagination, it’s usually the imagination that prevails.

Even the most die-hard fans who claimed to know the “truth” about their favorite VTubers would falter when confronted with reality.

Paepae wasn’t an exception.

How exactly had his imagination played tricks on him? Had he been disappointed because Han Yurim didn’t meet his expectations?

No, it was quite the opposite.

Han Yurim showed up at the agreed meeting place without much thought, knowing she resembled Thierry.

However, when Paepae saw her in person, she realized that Yurim was a vastly superior version of Thierry, leaving her taken aback.

In short, Paepae was more shocked by the realization that reality could surpass one’s imagination.

‘She always defies expectations.’

Paepae murmured to herself, lifting her head slightly.

“Unnie, can you do something about the turtle? It’s going crazy right now.”

“…It needs a chocolate bar.”

“It’s a side effect of Yurimization control training. If left unchecked, it could become irreversible, so I’ll have to manage it for a while.”

“Group training? At our place again?”

“I’ll be moving to a bigger house soon. We’ll do it at my place.”

“No way.”

“As I always say, anyone would think you were my producer, Bunnyrun.”

Han Yurim and Bunnyrun were deep in conversation.

“Brother Soft-Head, do you need nicotine, by any chance?”

“You’re the one who probably needs it. Want me to go grab some?”

Nearby, Moss and ChocoBun were chatting idly.

“…Yurim-unnie, what about my opinion?”

“If you want your decision-making rights back, quickly switch from being Chae Chocobar to Chae Narin.”

“…Hmph.”

And then there was “How did Chae Really Make It To Korean University” lurking in the background.

“What’s got you so deep in thought?”

Ah, Lumen was there too.

Anyway.

Paepae didn’t have many personal connections.

It was her personality—she didn’t enjoy socializing and preferred being alone.

Naturally, her circle of acquaintances was small.

Still, even Paepae was startled by people who disappeared after uttering just a single word.

It made her wonder if they saw people merely as materials for game development.

The incident even pushed Paepae, who’d undergone “mirror therapy,” to develop some semblance of social skills.

Thinking back, Paepae before the Han Yurim incident was no better than a wild animal.

As expected, Han Yurim, the miracle worker who had “fixed” countless humans, including Bunnyrun, was nothing short of impressive.

Paepae’s mind had wandered a bit.

For someone like her, this scene was amusing.

To think she’d be part of a group of people chattering away like this—middle-school Paepae, and even last-year Paepae, could never have imagined it.

And.

Paepae stared intently at Han Yurim.

She never thought she’d meet her again.

Really, truly.

Never imagined it.

“Paepae.”

Noticing the gaze, Han Yurim spoke up.

“Why?” Paepae replied in a calm voice.

“What’s with that sentimental, anime-ending-worthy epiphany look in your eyes? Careful—you might ascend right here and miss your chance to treat us in Okinawa.”

“You’re such a buzzkill.”

“You’re the one setting up unnecessary vibes.”

Just as Han Yurim finished speaking, the door to the room creaked open, and a fine-dining course meal was served.

“Amuse-bouche with truffle foam and caviar,” the server explained.

As Paepae nibbled on the appetizer, she glanced at Han Yurim, puzzled.

“Delicious, sure, but why fine dining? Isn’t a barbecue restaurant the usual spot for an after-party?”

“Paepae, don’t you watch WeFlix?”

“Barely had time to breathe during the competition, let alone watch WeFlix. You managed?”

“I’m the type who sleeps when I’m dead. A fine-dining show is currently number one on WeFlix, and I suddenly craved it.”

After savoring tuna tartare and avocado purée salad, her appetite was fully awakened.

Having cleaned her plate, Han Yurim nodded in satisfaction.

“Maybe we should’ve gone for dim sum instead.”

“I said we should’ve just gone to a barbecue place.”

“Technically, you said you’d book a barbecue spot, and I offered to handle the reservations instead.”

“Exactly.”

Fine dining was, in some ways, a surprisingly cost-effective option for business owners, but it didn’t suit everyone’s taste.

And honestly, fine dining didn’t quite fit the lively atmosphere of an after-party.

“It’s tasty, but not the flavor I’m craving right now. I want something oilier.”

“Figured as much.”

“We’ll have to do another after-party. Since I gained so much thanks to all of you, I should treat you to something better.”

“You just want to eat more, don’t you? Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask…”

“Go ahead.”

“So, what does the competition have to do with game development?”

At Paepae’s question, Bunnyrun excitedly raised her hand.

“Unnie! I’m curious too!”

“Me too, Yurim-nim!”

Even Moss and Chae Narin perked up, ears wide open.

With everyone’s attention, Han Yurim raised her index finger.

“Well, that’s…”

“That’s what?”

“That’s something you’ll find out in my upcoming release!”

Paepae shook her head.

Knew you wouldn’t tell me till the end.