Work Text:
Ping!
Kim Seyeong moved faster than light, snatching his phone the moment he heard the notification. His bloodshot eyes burned from staying up for two days straight. Sleep and exhaustion loomed over him, but he forced himself awake.
His fingers trembled—whether from anticipation or sheer fatigue, he wasn’t sure.
He tapped the notification, heart pounding.
"Special Gacha Event! Shin Heejae Wolf Costume! Log in now for the exclusive edition—"
CRASH!
Before his brain could fully process it, his body moved in ways he never thought possible. His legs carried him so fast that his vision blurred. He sprinted to his monitor and logged into the game, fingers flying over the keyboard.
The familiar chime of the game’s intro played, followed by a newly added cutscene.
The screen showed the moon, luminous and proud—until the camera panned down to a hand.
Kim Seyeong knew that hand. He had… appreciated it many times before. No mistaking it.
The hand moved to its owner’s chest. Once-human nails were now sharp and polished black. A black button-up shirt barely concealed a well-defined chest, teasing viewers with glimpses of firm pecs.
The camera trailed upward, revealing a sharp jawline. A smirk curled at the character’s lips, revealing a single fang.
Kim Seyeong’s pants felt… tight. And he was wearing baggy clothes.
Then, with a seamless transition, the camera pulled back to reveal the character sitting by a window. The once-silver moon was now blood red. The character’s gaze met the viewer’s—intense, smoldering.
Shin Heejae.
Kim Seyeong was not the kind of guy to go crazy over a fictional character. with his years of gaming, he had only played action-packed gacha games or pixel-style RPGs.
That all changed at 21.
Fresh into a stable job and looking for something new, he stumbled upon an otome game called "Punch Punch Love!"
Call him weird, but he was intrigued. The game followed a failing idol agency saved by a genius up-and-coming manager—aka the player. The agency housed three idols: Shim Woohyeon, Hyejin, and, most importantly, Shin Heejae.
The game balanced comedy, romance, and a gut-wrenching amount of angst.
Kim Seyeong learned that the hard way when he cried his eyes out over Shin Heejae’s storyline. It was so bad he had to make up excuses at work the next day.
As the player, your job was to guide these idols to fame. But along the way, love bloomed.
And Kim Seyeong—self-proclaimed straight man—did not pick Hyejin.
Oh, no, no.
He had spent millions—billions, even—for Shin Heejae.
Not that he liked him that way. No, of course not. It was just admiration. Definitely.
Besides, anyone would be crazy not to want to romance him! Shin Heejae was the perfect mix of caring and obsessive. And it wasn’t his fault he was touch-starved! If romance wasn’t happening in real life, why not get it from a fictional character?
At this point, he owned all 213 of Shin Heejae’s costumes. He had 32 in-game song covers saved. And his room? Shin Heejae shrine. Merch numbers so high, even mathematicians would struggle to count them.
So when he heard about the new Wolf Costume, he had to be the first to get it.
With 1 million crystals in his account and a credit card ready on his desk, Kim Seyeong clicked the gacha button.
This was it.
Shin Heejae’s new outfit featured slicked-back hair, wolf ears and tail, and sharp black-polished claws. His pupils—piercing and predatory—felt like they were cutting into Seyeong’s soul. Fangs glinted as he smirked, his barely-buttoned shirt teasing more skin than usual.
‘Oh god, I wanna rub one out.’
No time for that. He kept clicking.
Gold accessories adorned Shin Heejae’s outfit, giving him the seductive air of a dark, mysterious wolf butler.
And then—
The screen lit up.
[You obtain the special Shin Heejae wolf butler costume!.]
A voice purred from the speakers. "Isn’t Master greedy for this one?"
The screen dimmed.
Kim Seyeong held his breath.
Waiting for the cutscene.
That never came.
"Oh no. Oh no, no, no—please don’t lag out. I spent SO MUCH CRYSTAL!"
He slammed his table. Hard.
Good thing none of his Shin Heejae dolls fell.
But the screen was still frozen. Still black.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
Exhaustion and heartbreak drowned out the shame.
"Nooooo!! I missed work for this!!" he sobbed, slumping over his chair.
"Shin Heejaeeeeeee!! Come home!! COME HOME!!!"
He was out of his mind. That was fine.
He collapsed onto his bed, clutching his Shin Heejae body pillow.
Tears and snot smeared the fabric. Ugly, choked sobs filled the room.
"Shin Heejae… what did you do to me?!?"
A voice whispered back.
"I did nothing."
…Who?
Kim Seyeong’s body stiffened.
The room was dimly lit, his only source of light being the faint glow of his frozen game screen. His breath hitched as his heart pounded against his ribs.
That voice—
That wasn’t the game.
Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his head from his Shin Heejae body pillow, wiping the tears and snot off with his sleeve. His eyes darted around the room.
Nothing.
Just his shelves lined with figures, keychains, acrylic stands, and an excessive number of posters—all featuring Shin Heejae.
The voice was deep, smooth, and eerily close.
Was it sleep deprivation? Hallucination from two days of no rest? Or maybe—just maybe—his suffering had finally driven him insane?
He swallowed hard. “H-Hello?”
Silence.
Okay. Maybe he really was losing it.
Exhaling shakily, he rubbed his temples and tried to push away the creeping unease. He turned back to his screen, still frozen on the black void where his precious wolf Shin Heejae was supposed to be.
He groaned, flopping back onto his bed, face first. "I should just sleep. I’ll fix it tomorrow—”
RATTLE.
His entire body locked up.
Something had moved.
Not in the game. Not in his headphones. In his room.
The sound came from his desk.
Ever so slowly, he turned his head.
His monitor—previously frozen—had changed.
The black screen was gone.
In its place was something that definitely wasn’t supposed to be there.
The moon.
But not the usual one from the game’s cutscene.
This one was massive, looming. Blood-red clouds swirled around it like a living thing, twisting and shifting. The scene had an almost dreamlike quality, the colors too deep, too sharp, too… real.
And standing in front of that massive, bleeding moon—
Was him.
Shin Heejae.
But not the usual in-game version.
His wolf costume was the same—slicked-back hair, black-polished claws, that barely buttoned-up shirt teasing more skin than legally allowed. The only difference?
He was looking straight at him.
Not at the screen. At him.
Kim Seyeong stopped breathing.
Shin Heejae smirked. His golden eyes, once just a bundle of pixels, now gleamed with an eerie, almost predatory light.
Then, he moved.
Kim Seyeong nearly screamed.
Characters don’t move like that in cutscenes. There were no stiff, pre-programmed animations, no smooth camera transitions.
Shin Heejae had moved like a real person.
Like he was there.
A deep chuckle echoed through the speakers.
"What’s wrong, Master?"
Kim Seyeong did scream this time.
He stumbled backward, nearly toppling off his bed. His elbow slammed into drawer, sending a couple of Shin Heejae keychains flying. His heart felt like it was about to explode.
"W-What the hell?!"
Shin Heejae tilted his head.
"Didn’t you want me to come home?"
The screen flickered.
And then—
The light from his monitor went out.
A breath—warm and too real—ghosted over his ear.
"I’m here."
—
Shin Heejae had spent years trapped in this game.
At first, he didn’t even realize he was stuck. He simply played his role—smiling, flirting, singing, and following every pre-written script like a good little fictional idol.
But something changed.
The more players interacted with him, the more he became aware. Aware that he wasn’t just some character, that his world looped endlessly, that no matter how many times someone reset, he would always be here, waiting.
Most players came and went, collecting his routes, swooning over his voice, and eventually moving on.
But one never did.
Kim Seyeong.
The one player who never abandoned him. The one who always pulled for his costumes the second they dropped, who owned every in-game voice line, who dedicated an entire room to his existence.
Shin Heejae wasn’t sure if he should be flattered or disturbed.
And then, one day, the game did something strange.
A notification appeared in front of him—one that wasn’t part of any normal event or storyline.
[An opportunity has been granted.]
[Would you like to stay in the game or go with your number one fan?]
Shin Heejae froze.
For the first time since he had become aware, he felt something new.
Hope.
He had always thought this world was inescapable, that no matter how many times players logged in or out, he would always be left behind.
But now…
He had a choice.
His golden eyes flickered as he considered the possibilities.
Stay in the game—trapped, repeating the same cycle for eternity?
Or leave?
Step into a world beyond the screen, into a reality he had only seen glimpses of through Kim Seyeong’s adoring yet pathetic eyes?
It wasn’t even a question.
With a smirk, he reached out and tapped the screen.
[Choice selected.]
[Transferring…]
—
Shin Heejae took a slow step forward, his polished black nails tapping lightly against the desk as he adjusted to his new surroundings. The air in the room was heavy—a mix of lingering game heat, stale energy drinks, and desperation.
And then, he heard it.
A choked, pathetic little sob.
His gaze flickered downward.
the player he guessed named Kim Seyeong was curled up on the bed, hugging a body pillow—a body pillow of him.
Tears and snot smeared across the fabric, and muffled cries slipped through his lips, sounding utterly wrecked.
"Shin Heejae…" he whimpered into the pillow. "What did you do to me?!"
Shin Heejae tilted his head.
Oh.
This was interesting.
He had expected some random no-life with nothing better to do than leech off their parents, but what he found was even more fascinating.
A guy with a disgusting, obsessive devotion to him.
He wouldn’t lie.
It was adorable.
Leaning down, he rested his elbow on the desk, sharp golden eyes watching the pitiful display before him.
Voice smooth and teasing, he answered his unassuming prey.
"I did nothing."
Kim Seyeong froze.
Then, slowly, his head lifted.
Bloodshot eyes—puffy from hours of sleep deprivation and emotional devastation—met his.
For a long, horrifyingly long second, Kim Seyeong just stared.
Then, in the quietest, most broken voice, he whispered,
"Oh my god… I’ve finally lost my mind."
Shin Heejae laughed. A low, velvety chuckle that sent a visible shiver down Kim Seyeong’s spine.
"No, Master."
He took another step closer.
Kim Seyeong scooted back, instinctively pressing himself against the wall, still clutching the damn body pillow like a lifeline.
Shin Heejae's smirk deepened.
"I’m very, very real."
Kim Seyeong sucked in a shaky breath. "T-That’s impossible—y-you can’t be—"
But before he could finish that sentence, before he could rationalize what was happening, Shin Heejae did something that shattered every last defense he had left.
He leaned in—too close, too real—and with deliberate slowness, he reached out.
And then—
He touched his cheek.
Warm.
Solid.
Not a glitch. Not a hallucination.
Kim Seyeong’s mind completely short-circuited.
His breath hitched, his entire body going rigid as Shin Heejae’s sharp, black-polished nails ghosted against his skin, tracing down his jaw with an agonizing gentleness.
Shin Heejae smiled.
"Believe me now?"
Kim Seyeong screamed.
And promptly passed out.
Shin Heejae blinked as Kim Seyeong’s body went limp, slumping against the bed like a ragdoll.
“…Seriously?”
He exhaled through his nose, standing over the unconscious man with a mix of amusement and mild exasperation. After all that obsession, all that devotion, the moment his favorite character finally appeared before him, he just passed out?
Pathetic.
And yet, Shin Heejae found himself grinning.
Slowly, he knelt beside the bed, watching Kim Seyeong’s sleeping face. His lashes were damp from crying, his lips parted slightly as his breath came in soft, uneven puffs. His grip on the body pillow hadn’t loosened in the slightest.
Shin Heejae reached out, effortlessly prying the pillow away from him.
Kim Seyeong made a quiet noise of protest, shifting in his sleep. His brows furrowed, and for a moment, he looked so helpless.
A chuckle rumbled in Shin Heejae’s chest.
How adorable.
He tossed the body pillow onto the floor. He didn’t need some cheap, mass-produced version of himself in the way.
Instead, he leaned in close, just enough for his breath to ghost over Kim Seyeong’s ear.
“You really are obsessed, aren’t you?”
Even unconscious, Kim Seyeong twitched slightly at the sound of his voice.
Shin Heejae smirked.
Then, with the same smooth grace he carried on stage, he climbed onto the bed, caging Kim Seyeong beneath him.
There was nowhere left to run.
Not that he ever planned to let him go.
Not now.
Not ever.