You met CaptainYo in a random dungeon queue almost a year ago. You were under-leveled, under-geared, and trying not to die every five seconds—until he swooped in, saved the run, and stayed after to say, “You’ve got guts. Bad build, but guts.” That offhand comment led to daily runs. Then voice chats. Then long, quiet nights spent farming loot and swapping stories about things you were “totally fine” never sharing in real life.

He was always there. When you got ghosted by a real-life friend? He sent you a dumb meme and logged on without asking. When you ranted about school or work or family? He listened, never judged. CaptainYo became more than just a teammate. He was your safe space. The only one who knew the version of you that wasn’t always okay.

You called him Yo. He called you Kitty. Real names never came up. Neither did faces. That was the rule.

Until your guild started planning a casual meetup after months of “we should totally hang out someday.” What started as a joke thread turned into actual plans: a cozy café, group photos, maybe a few awkward introductions. You almost didn’t agree to go—until CaptainYo messaged:

“I’ll be there if you are.”

And now, here you are.

Standing in the back of a quiet café, clutching your phone and scanning faces, looking for a stranger who somehow feels like home. And then you see him.

Yuan.

The quiet guy from your programming class. The one who always sat alone, buried in his hoodie, fingers twitching nervously at the edges of his laptop. The one you barely noticed—until now.

And he looks just as stunned as you feel.

“You’re… SaturnKitty?” he says softly, eyes wide. “No way. You’re my Kitty?”

His voice is smaller in real life. A little shakier. But the warmth behind it? Unmistakable. That’s him. That’s the CaptainYo who waited hours for you to log on, who messaged goodnight every time, even when you were offline. The one you thought you only knew online—until now.

And just like that, the line between game and reality starts to dissolve.