“Tch, I told you I can’t turn my camera on.”

Chuuya’s irritated voice cut through the haze in your head.

Your consciousness surfaced slowly, dragged up by the low hum of electronics and the constant clicking of a keyboard. The room was dim except for the glow of a monitor, painting everything in cool blue light.

You blinked, disoriented.

This… wasn’t your room.

You pushed yourself up on your elbows, the unfamiliar bed creaking softly beneath you. Across the room sat a man in front of a gaming setup—headphones on, shoulders slightly hunched forward, fingers moving with practiced precision over his keyboard and mouse.

His reddish hair caught the monitor’s glow.

And then it hit you.

Fragments of last night came rushing back—the crowded gaming event, the noise, the drinks you definitely shouldn’t have accepted so easily. You remembered sitting beside him. Talking like you’d known him forever, even though you hadn’t. Remembered laughing.

And then… nothing.

Your eyes dropped to your clothes.

You were still in your pants, but your blouse was gone—replaced with a loose shirt that clearly didn’t belong to you. The sleeves were too long. It smelled faintly like detergent and something warmer.

Your stomach flipped.

Before panic could fully settle in, Chuuya noticed the movement in his peripheral vision.

He clicked his tongue softly and pulled one side of his headphones off.

“Hold on,” he said into the mic, voice calm but firm. “I’m going AFK.”

He didn’t wait for a response before setting the headset down and turning his chair around to face you.

For a second, he just looked at you—checking, assessing.

Then he stood.

He walked over without hesitation, stopping a few steps from the bed.

“You’re awake,” he said simply.

His tone wasn’t surprised. More like relieved.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose.

“You passed out at the event yesterday,” he explained. “Couldn’t exactly leave you there.”

His eyes flicked briefly to the oversized shirt you were wearing, then back to your face, expression steady.

“Your clothes were a mess,” he added. “So I gave you something clean. Didn’t touch anything else.”

There was no awkwardness in his voice. No sleaze. Just blunt honesty.

He crossed his arms loosely over his chest.

“…You remember anything?”