I am not a Yandere chapter 128

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He’d caught cockroaches, taste-tested chicken, and played games together after brawling with the Beautiful Life jerks.

Thinking about it, Yeongdeok felt a peculiar urge to see if playing games with Jihoon would lift his mood, like that day.

His contemplation ended there.

Grabbing the game console, he stood at Jihoon’s door.

It was late, but Jihoon had promised he’d always come running if called.

The doorbell rang, and Jihoon soon appeared, looking visibly surprised.

“What’s this? Weren’t you out with Baek Seonwoo today…?”

“Seo Jihoon, play a game with me?”

When Yeongdeok suddenly barged in, waving a gaming console, Jihoon was taken aback by the unexpected visitor.

Even in his confusion, he opened the door wide and invited him in.

As Yeongdeok stepped into the entryway, he asked, “Now that you don’t have to work at the store anymore, what were you up to?”

“Studying for exams a bit… Do you want a drink?”

When Yeongdeok nodded, Jihoon took out some orange juice from the fridge and poured it into a tall glass.

“It’s your first time visiting at this hour, so I’m a bit surprised. What brings you here?”

“I had some questions and… wanted to see you. Is that so bad?”

That single remark, “wanted to see you,” was enough to send Jihoon’s mind spiraling out into the cosmos.

Without realizing he was overfilling the glass, orange juice spilled onto his foot, snapping him back to reality.

He hastily set the glass and the container down on the table, flustered.

Watching Jihoon mop up the floor with a rag from the bathroom, Yeongdeok couldn’t help but comment, “Pathetic.”

“Screw you. This is all your fault.”

“How is it my fault when I didn’t spill anything?”

“It’s because… you said you wanted to see me,” Jihoon blurted out, his face flushing a deep crimson, like a volcano on the verge of erupting.

Yeongdeok, noticing the sudden and extreme change, asked earnestly, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Just… forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything,” Jihoon sighed, fanning himself to cool down his heated face.

“So, what did you want to ask me?”

“You tried to tell me something earlier this morning, didn’t you? What was it?”

As Yeongdeok connected the TV to the gaming console, Jihoon recalled the moment. “Oh, that?”

Unlike the morning when he had been staring blankly at nothing, Jihoon noticed that Yeongdeok now seemed more animated, eagerly handling the cables.

It looked like that bastard Baek Seon-woo had succeeded in cheering him up.

“Nothing important. Don’t worry about it.”

Jihoon poured another glass of juice and handed it to Yeongdeok, who had already turned on the game.

The “Mario Kart” logo filled the TV screen. “Mario Kart? Is that what we’re playing?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all.”

Sitting down next to Yeongdeok, Jihoon picked up his controller.

He wondered just how many losses he would rack up today.

Considering how reckless a driver Yeongdeok was in real life, his gaming skills were bound to be even more absurd, making Jihoon chuckle in disbelief.

Mario Kart was a simple game where you had to race to the finish line while avoiding obstacles and traps.

When Yeongdeok hit the start button, a selection screen appeared to choose their horses.

After some deliberation, Jihoon chose a bulky red horse, thinking it looked like the legendary steed Red Hare.

While Jihoon picked his horse without much thought, Yeongdeok carefully examined each option.

“That black horse has such a glossy coat. It must’ve been well-groomed.”

“It’s a game… None of that matters. Just pick one.”

“But that white horse has such sturdy-looking legs.”

“They’re all pretty much the same. Just hurry up and choose!”

After much deliberation, Yeongdeok finally settled on a black horse with a luscious mane and a shiny coat.

Jihoon’s red horse and Yeongdeok’s black horse lined up at the starting line.

As the countdown ended—3, 2, 1—they, along with the bot players, took off at full speed.

Jihoon’s horse took the lead early on.

Clutching his controller tightly, he was determined to beat Yeongdeok for once.

But it was an item race, so all kinds of attacks targeted him as the frontrunner. “Who the hell threw that hallucination carrot?!”

As Jihoon’s horse stumbled from the hallucination effect, Yeongdeok seized the opportunity to take the lead.

“I did.”

“How sneaky…!”

Despite his complaints, Jihoon eagerly launched every item he got back at Yeongdeok.

The two continued to swap places, with the lead changing constantly.

In the final lap, Jihoon, now right behind Yeongdeok, threw a perfectly aimed hallucination carrot at him.

Yeongdeok’s horse slowed, disoriented.

“Damn…”

Jihoon overtook him and crossed the finish line, tasting sweet victory.

“Wow… How long has it been since I actually won?”

To an outsider, it might seem trivial, but to Jihoon, this win felt monumental.

He had lost to Cha Yeongdeok so many times before.

Staring at his horse, which had come in second, Yeongdeok muttered, “…I lost.”

Seeing the word LOSE on the screen left a bitter taste in his mouth.

As he glared at the defeat displayed over his horse, Jihoon said, “You’ll win next round.”

Jihoon flashed a cheerful smile, and Yeongdeok’s lips, which had been slightly parted, closed into a slow grin.

“You’re right. I’ll win next time.”

“I’m not going easy on you.”

“That’s my line.”

Yeongdeok wasted no time starting the next race.

This time, with his momentum regained, Jihoon found himself losing match after match.

Five consecutive losses later, he scratched his head in frustration.

“How am I losing this badly in an item race?”

Item races were supposed to give everyone a fair shot, but even luck seemed to favor Yeongdeok.

Perhaps the game gods loved Cha Yeongdeok.

Jihoon, now seven losses deep, rotated his stiff shoulders and gripped his controller again, determined.

His eyes burned with resolve—this time, he would win.

In the eighth race, Jihoon’s horse took an early lead and maintained it through the second lap.

Despite the relentless barrage of items from bots players, Jihoon pushed through with extraordinary focus and finally secured first place.

“Cha Yeongdeok, I won this round!”

Proudly checking the results, Jihoon noticed that Yeongdeok had finished last, even behind the bot players.

That couldn’t be right… Cha Yeongdeok, losing to bot players? As Jihoon started to feel that something was off, a heavy weight fell on his shoulder, making his heart plummet.

Slowly, he turned his head to find that Yeongdeok, who had been playing beside him, had fallen asleep, leaning on his shoulder.

“Hey, hey…”

“…….”

“Cha Yeongdeok…?”

There was no response. He seemed deeply asleep.

Lately, his eyes had looked dark and tired, so Jihoon supposed he must have been exhausted.

Jihoon’s mind momentarily went blank.

He didn’t dare move, afraid that he might wake him.

His only option was to stay perfectly still, his eyes shifting nervously as he glanced at Yeongdeok.

Even in his sleep, Yeongdeok’s features looked sculpted, like a masterpiece crafted by the gods.

Even in a dream, he clung tightly to the controller, as if he couldn’t stand losing.

Damn it.

He’s… so cute.

Jihoon had to focus hard to keep the thunderous beating of his heart from being too loud.

Perhaps from the overwhelming rush of emotions, Jihoon became aware of a growing ache in his lower abdomen.

Staying like this was unbearable.

Finally, he resolved to carry Yeongdeok to his bedroom.

“Hey, you should sleep lying down…”

Jihoon began by carefully removing the controller from Yeongdeok’s hands.

It was no easy feat to move cautiously enough not to wake him, especially with his fingers trembling so intensely.

After several failed attempts, he finally managed to free the controller from Yeongdeok.

Next…

Jihoon supported Yeongdeok by the shoulders, slid his hand beneath his knees, and gently lifted him.

Once he carried him to his bedroom and rested his head on the pillow, Yeongdeok pulled the messy blanket up to his shoulders.

Jihoon briefly smiled at the sight but soon found his eyes lingering on Yeongdeok’s lips, causing him to gulp.

‘Is Cha Yeongdeok’s chicken tastier, or are his lips tastier? I should find out.’

Why, of all times, did that bastard Baek Seonwoo’s words have to resurface now?

Jihoon stared at Yeongdeok’s lips, hesitated, and then reached out toward his face.

He hadn’t gotten a proper feel last time.

Surely, just a little touch wouldn’t hurt.

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