Prologue: „Have you heard the rumor?”

—Rumours. Stories that pass from one voice to another, changing just enough each time to sound almost believable.

—Like the one about a hidden passage somewhere in a gaming shop in Akihabara.

—Like the one about an underground place where the best young players in Tokyo gather to test their skills.

—Like the one about two legendary players who fought each other every single night for over a year.

Most people, when hearing such stories, react the same way. They dismiss them, reduce them to exaggerations, or assume that somewhere along the line, imagination overtook reality. Because that is how rumours usually work after all. They begin with something small, plausible, and grow until they no longer resemble anything real.

—And yet.

Sometimes, what sounds the least believable is simply the least visible.

Because in this case…those rumors are true.

Hidden beneath the surface, beyond a secret door inside the game store, there exists a gaming salon that matches those whispers almost perfectly. Inside, one corner is lined with old arcade machines, where people can play retro games, like P*c-man or D*nkey K*ng, while another is filled with the newest gaming technology, like new VR headsets or FPS games. A bar stands nearby, but without alkohol, only rows of soda and energy drinks, together with some Ice Tea for those with weaker tongues. Scattered couches and bean bags provide space to rest, though few truly come here to relax.

This magical place is called “Wicked Haven,” a club where the most relentless gamers gather to challenge one another, sharpen their skills, or simply remain within an atmosphere that never truly quiets down.

Today a crowd had gathered around one of the arcade machines, their attention fixed on the ongoing match in “Ninja Fighter”, a game where players select from twelve different ninjas, each possessing their own distinct abilities, and face each other in direct combat.

—And at the centre of that attention stood two players.

On the left side was a guy with black hair marked by a single silver highlight, wearing glasses, his presence overwhelming, his movements precise and deliberate, carried out with a kind of pride and arrogance that made it seem as though he viewed every opponent as something to be consumed rather than challenged. His playstyle reflected that same attitude, merciless and arrogant, never allowing even the smallest opening to go unpunished.

—They call him the “King of Gluttony.”

His opponent on the right side was a girl with dark hair touched by dark-red air touch highlights, her crimson eyes fixed on the screen as she played in a manner that contrasted sharply with her opponent, not overwhelming, but patient, as though she were toying with the match itself, gradually pushing her opponents further and further until resistance became meaningless, only to end it all with a single, decisive strike, her expression never losing that faint, sadistic smile.

—They call her the “Crimson Devil.”

The two of them had appeared without warning around a year ago, and since then, they had remained unmatched within this place, defeating every challenger who dared to face them.

—Every challenger except one.

Because the only ones capable of defeating them… were each other.

And the result of that ongoing rivalry stood unchanged, balanced to an almost impossible degree.

—5385 to 5385, and 3849 draws.

Around them, the crowd continued to murmur, voices overlapping as bets were placed and odds were argued, fragments of conversation drifting through the air.

“Five on the King this round!”

“No way, Crimson got this!”

“If it comes to those two. This could go either way.”

At some point, the topic inevitably shifted, as it always did.

“Now that I think about it. Why do they even keep fighting against each other every day?”

“Isn’t it obvious? They just hate losing, right?”

“Yeah… those two are fighting, while putting their pride on the line.”

—That was the common answer, and it wasn’t perfectly false.

—But... it wasn’t completely true though, too.

On the right side, the girl let her tongue lightly trace her lips, her crimson eyes fixed on the screen, though her thoughts wandered elsewhere entirely.

“...King-kun looks so handsome today”

Her gaze sharpened ever so slightly.

“…He changed his perfume, didn’t he? It smells so good on him.”

For a brief moment, her composure wavered, her fingers tightening on the controls before she steadied herself.

“…I can’t lose focus. Not yet.”

A faint, sadistic smile grew slightly bigger.

“…I just have to be patient. After I win…he’ll be mine. Mine alone.”

—In short, she was love obsessed.

On the left side, the boy maintained his usual arrogant smile, his eyes reflecting the screen as his thoughts moved along a very different track.

“Crimson-chan is especially lovely today…”

His expression did not change, yet something in his gaze softened.

“…Her scent is different. She switched shampoo, didn’t she?”

His grip remained steady, but his focus wavered for just a fraction of a second.

“…I’d love to keep breathing it in all day.”

He exhaled quietly, as if forcing himself back into the match.

“…No. Not yet. I need to focus.”

The smile returned, sharper this time.

“…After I win…she’ll be mine. Mine alone.”

—In short, he was a complete freak.

Some might wonder why, even after an entire year of knowing each other, nothing had changed between them, and why neither of them had taken even a single step beyond this endless cycle of matches and rivalry, despite their hidden feelings.

Well…

The match had already reached its final phase, the point where a single hit would decide everything, where even a difference of a millisecond would separate victory from defeat. Just as that decisive moment approached—

*SNAP!*

The arcade machine shut down with a sharp sound, and almost immediately after, the lights across the room went out, plunging everything into darkness and confusion as voices rose from the crowd.

“What just happened?!”

“Did the power go out?!”

Before the unease could settle in, the lights returned, the machines flickered back to life, and someone in the crowd calmly announced, “Everything’s fine. It was just a shortcut.”

Relief spread quickly among the onlookers, although no one dared to say anything, since for the two standing at the machine, the situation was anything but resolved, because the system had restarted and their match had been cut off at the exact moment before the final blow.

Which naturally led to a single question—who was the winner?

A male voice broke the brief silence, carrying a confident tone as he said, “Let’s be serious. I believe the true winner should be obvious.”

A female voice followed without hesitation, matching his certainty. “Obviously, that’s not even worth debating.”

And then, at the exact same moment—

“It was me.”

“…”

“…”

What followed was a brief silence, but the atmosphere had already shifted into something heavier and sharper, as both the “King of Gluttony” and the “Crimson Devil” turned toward each other, veins faintly visible at their temples as their composure gave way.

“You’re seriously trying to claim that?”

“Of course I am. I moved faster than you.”

“I think you have to be joking,” he replied immediately, his voice edged with irritation. “That weak move wouldn’t have reached a K.O. In compare, my heavy attack would give a guaranteed win. You sadistic maniac!”

“Huuuuuh?!” she snapped back, her crimson eyes narrowing. “Your sloppy heavy attack was so obvious I could’ve dodged it in my sleep, you hungry monkey.”

“What did you just call me?!”

Their voices rose, overlapping as neither side backed down, the argument escalating to the point where they were on the verge of lunging at each other, only to be stopped by the surrounding crowd, who quickly stepped in and tried to restrain them.

“Hey, calm down!”

“It’s not worth it!”

“Just replay the match!”

However, despite being held back, neither of them showed any intention of letting it go, as their argument continued just as fiercely, as though the match had never been interrupted at all.

At last, a firm voice cut through the noise, sharp enough to silence even the most heated argument.

“Stop.”

The effect was immediate, as the crowd froze and, almost in unison, slowly turned toward the source of that voice, their attention shifting to the bar where a large, elderly man stood in a bartender’s suit, his white beard and imposing presence accompanied by an unmistakably heavy aura. Without raising his voice further, he simply pointed his thumb toward a sheet of paper fixed to the wall behind him.

—Rule Number 3: No fights in the club

The message required no further explanation.

The “King of Gluttony” and the “Crimson Devil” glanced at each other for a brief moment before turning toward the bartender, and, as if following an unspoken agreement, both lowered their heads in apology.

“…Sorry.”

“…My bad.”

The bartender in response gave them a small nod, seemingly satisfied.

Only then did the tension finally break, as the crowd collectively exhaled, relief spreading through the room.

The two players, however, did not linger. They exchanged another glance, only to immediately turn their heads away with matching expressions of irritation, both visibly sulking before heading off toward the restroom without another word.

From somewhere within the crowd, a voice remarked casually, “Those two are always like cats and dogs, aren’t they?”

But is that really the truth???

Moments later, they left the place, their pace faster than usual as inside their minds, the thoughts kept gathering.

“I can’t believe I acted like that,” he thought, his expression tightening slightly. “Losing my temper over something like that…unbelievable.”

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” she admitted to herself, her brows faintly furrowing. “Getting carried away like that in front of him…how embarrassing.”

They continued walking, each absorbed in their own thoughts, both replaying the same moment, both arriving at the same conclusion without realizing it.

“Still…”

“But…”

“…I really hate losing.”

The realization settled firmly, leaving no room for denial.

And that, in the end, was the answer to everything.

Yes, the reason these two were still not together, even after everything, was painfully simple—both of them were sore losers, unwilling to confess anything until they could prove that they were the better one.

This is a story about two professional gamers, who love games just as much as they love each other, and yet remain trapped in a rivalry that neither is willing to end.

Which leaves only one, very important question.

Can these Game Junkies finally get together?!