Touch Therapy: Where Hands Go, Bodies Beg-Chapter 357: Game On

The PC bang was high-end in every sense of the word—located in the heart of Gangnam’s most prestigious district, occupying three floors of a modern glass building that screamed expensive gaming paradise. Inside, the space was a gamer’s dream: top-of-the-line equipment, ergonomic chairs that cost more than most people’s monthly rent, soundproof private booths, and an atmosphere that balanced competitive intensity with luxury comfort.

Joon-ho stepped through the automatic doors, his eyes scanning the space with practiced observation. It wasn’t his usual environment, but he understood places like this—spaces where status could be established in seconds, where reputation was everything.

The reception area was sleek and modern, the staff dressed in stylish uniforms that projected professionalism with a hint of gaming edge. One of the receptionists, a young woman with carefully styled hair and impeccable makeup, noticed him immediately. Her eyes widened as recognition dawned, and she stepped forward with a bright smile.

"Welcome, sir." She bowed slightly, her voice warm but professional. "It’s an honor to have you here. Can I start by saying how much your work with LUNE has been appreciated in the industry? The impact you’ve had on entertainment and media is remarkable."

"Thank you." Joon-ho returned her smile, though his attention remained focused on the task at hand. "I appreciate the kind words. I’m actually looking for a computer today—something standard, nothing too elaborate."

The receptionist’s enthusiasm only grew. "Of course, of course! We’d be happy to accommodate you. Would you prefer a standard station in the main hall, or perhaps a private booth for more comfort and privacy?"

"I’m actually looking for a party group," Joon-ho explained. "Someone specific. Do you happen to have any high-level players or groups active right now?"

"High-level players..." The receptionist considered the question, her fingers flying across a tablet as she checked the system. "We do have several groups currently active, but most of them are closed parties with established teams. However..." She paused, her expression becoming slightly uncertain. "There is one group, but they’re... a bit particular. It’s Dong Young Master’s party—he’s been here for several hours now, playing with his regular team."

"Dong Young Master?" Joon-ho raised an eyebrow. "The third son of the Dong Group?"

"The very same." The receptionist nodded, though there was a note of caution in her voice. "He’s extremely talented—probably one of the best players we’ve ever had here. His reflexes are incredible, his game sense is top-tier, and he’s absolutely ruthless in competition. But..."

"But?"

"He can be..." She searched for the right word. "Difficult. Especially when he’s losing. His temper is legendary—if things don’t go his way, if his teammates make mistakes or if the opposition is better than expected, he can get... vocal. Very vocal. Some of our regulars actually avoid his group just to keep things peaceful."

Joon-ho found himself intrigued rather than deterred. A hot-tempered gaming prodigy from one of Korea’s most powerful conglomerate families? That was exactly the kind of person he needed to reach today.

"Sounds interesting," he said, which surprised the receptionist. "I think I’ll take my chances. Can you set me up with a station near his party?"

The receptionist recovered quickly, her professional demeanor returning. "Of course! If you’re sure, I’d be happy to arrange it. Just... bear in mind what I said about his temperament. He doesn’t take losing well."

"I’ll keep that in mind."

While she made the arrangements, another staff member approached with a camera in hand. "If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind if we took a photo? It would mean a lot to our team—we’re all big fans of your work."

Joon-ho didn’t mind. He posed for a quick photo, offering a polite smile that satisfied the staff member without giving anything away. Then, with his access card in hand, he headed toward the gaming floor.

The main hall was impressive—rows of high-performance computers arranged in strategically spaced clusters, each equipped with massive curved monitors, mechanical keyboards, and premium headsets. The lighting was designed for both comfort and atmosphere, with LED strips casting soft glows in various colors, creating an immersive gaming environment.

Joon-ho found his assigned station, logging in with smooth efficiency. He adjusted the headset, tested the microphone, and familiarized himself with the controls. It had been a while since he’d devoted serious time to gaming, but the skills came back quickly—muscle memory, reflexes, the instinctual awareness that separated average players from those who could truly compete at high levels.

He sent a request to join Dong Young Master’s party, and within seconds, a voice came through his headset—arrogant, confident, and distinctly unimpressed.

"So you’re the new guy they told me about." The voice was young but carried the weight of someone used to getting what they wanted. "You know this isn’t just any party, right? We play to win here. If you’re not good enough to keep up, you’re just dragging us down. And frankly, I don’t have the patience for dead weight today."

"Duly noted," Joon-ho replied calmly, adjusting the microphone. "I think I can manage."

"We’ll see about that." The skepticism was evident. "Don’t say I didn’t warn you—if you turn out to be useless, I’ll personally pay your fees for the day so you can leave and stop wasting our time. I’m not interested in charity cases."

With that, the party accepted him into the lobby, and within minutes, they were queued up for a battle royale match—the kind of high-stakes, intense competition that brought out both the best and worst in players.

The game loaded, the drop zone selected, and then they were in—hurtling toward the map, surrounded by dozens of other squads all vying for the same prize: victory.

Dong Young Master’s voice came through the headset, directing his team with the authority of someone who expected to be obeyed. "We’re hitting the hot zone. Everyone know the drill—don’t hesitate, don’t miss your shots, and don’t do anything stupid. I’m not carrying anyone today."

Joon-ho remained silent, focusing on his own performance, letting his actions speak for him. As soon as they landed, the chaos began—guns blazing, explosions rippling through the virtual landscape, the constant tension of being hunted while hunting others.

He moved with calculated precision, positioning himself to cover angles, providing support when needed, but also making his own plays. His aim was true, his decisions sharp, and his ability to read the game was intuitive. Within the first few minutes, he’d already secured several kills, his calm precision contrasting with Dong Young Master’s more aggressive, flashy style.

They pushed through the early game, eliminating squad after squad, their coordination improving as they found their rhythm. Dong Young Master was indeed talented—his mechanical skills were exceptional, his aim deadly accurate, and his ability to pull off clutch plays was impressive. But Joon-ho matched him, providing the steady, calculated support that turned potential disasters into victories.

As the circle shrank and the remaining teams dwindled, the tension ratcheted up. They were in the top ten, then the top five, each engagement becoming more critical, each mistake potentially fatal.

"Five teams left," Dong Young Master announced, his voice tight with concentration. "We need to push now, catch them off guard before they can set up positions."

They moved as a unit, flanking the remaining squads with coordinated attacks. Joon-ho’s positioning was impeccable, his timing perfect, and when the dust settled, only three teams remained—including theirs.

"Not bad," Dong Young Master grudgingly admitted. "For a newbie, you’re actually pulling your weight. That flank on the last team was decent timing."

"Thanks." Joon-ho’s response was measured, accepting the compliment without letting it go to his head.

The final circle was brutal, with no cover, limited options, and three teams all fighting for survival. It came down to positioning and shot-calling, and in the end, they made a crucial error—one bad rotation, one exposed position, and they were eliminated in third place.

The screen faded to the results display, showing their placement and kill count. It was a respectable finish, but Dong Young Master’s sigh through the headset made his disappointment clear.

"Third place." He sounded frustrated. "We had that. That rotation was sloppy—completely unnecessary. We should’ve pushed when I said, not waited around for them to set up."

He continued critiquing the match, analyzing every mistake, every decision that had led to their defeat. His analysis was sharp, accurate, and delivered with the bluntness of someone who expected perfection from himself and everyone around him.

Joon-ho listened without interrupting, absorbing the information. Dong Young Master was harsh, but his criticism was fair—he identified real errors, real areas where they could have improved. It was the kind of feedback that could make someone a better player, if they were willing to hear it.

"Another game?" Dong Young Master asked, though it was less a question and more of a command. "We’re not stopping there. Third place is unacceptable."

"Let’s do it." Joon-ho was already queueing up for the next match.

This time, they came out stronger from the start, their chemistry improving with each engagement. Dong Young Master’s shot-calling was aggressive but calculated, and Joon-ho’s support play was flawless. They moved through the map like a well-oiled machine, eliminating opponents with ruthless efficiency.

The games blurred together, hours passing in a haze of intense competition and focused gameplay. They finished third again, then fifth, then second—each time pushing closer to victory, each time falling just short. But Dong Young Master’s fire only grew, his determination to win driving them to play harder, faster, better.

Then, finally, it happened.

They were the last two teams remaining, the circle closing around them, everything coming down to this final confrontation. Dong Young Master’s voice through the headset was intense, focused, completely locked in.

"We push together. No hesitation. If we hit our shots, this is ours."

They moved as one, flanking the final squad from both sides, catching them in a crossfire that left them nowhere to run. Joon-ho’s aim was true, his timing perfect, and when the final enemy fell, the screen erupted in victory.

"Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!" The announcement blared through their headsets, and for the first time since he’d arrived, Dong Young Master’s laughter came through loud and genuine.

"Now that’s what I’m talking about!" His excitement was palpable. "Finally! That’s how you play!"

The victory screen displayed their stats, and Dong Young Master was already reviewing it, analyzing their performance with genuine satisfaction. "Nice work, newbie. You actually held your own out there. Those clutch saves—that was solid play."

"I enjoyed it." Joon-ho’s voice was calm, but there was genuine pleasure in his tone as well. "It’s been a while since I’ve played at this level."

"You’ve got skills, I’ll give you that." Dong Young Master’s tone had shifted significantly from their earlier interactions. The arrogance was still there, but it was tempered with respect now. "Most people can’t keep up with my pace, but you actually adapted. That’s rare."

He fell silent for a moment, and Joon-ho could hear the sound of him typing something—perhaps sending a message, or checking something on his system.

"Hey, you there?" Dong Young Master’s voice came through again, more relaxed now. "I’m done for the day—we’ve been at this for hours. But I’m not going to let a good teammate just disappear without at least buying them dinner. That’s my rule when I find someone who can actually play."

He paused, then continued, "Come meet me at the counter. We can grab some food and talk properly. I’m curious about you—who you are, where you came from, how you ended up in my party today."

Joon-ho smiled, recognizing the opening he’d been hoping for. This was exactly what he needed.

"I’ll be there in a few minutes," he replied.

"Good. Don’t keep me waiting."

The connection ended, and Joon-ho removed his headset, setting it aside with deliberate care. Around him, the PC bang continued its usual rhythm—the murmur of voices, the clatter of keyboards, the sounds of ongoing matches. But Joon-ho’s mind was already focused on what came next.

He’d come here today with a specific purpose: to make contact with Dong Young Master, to establish a connection with the third son of the Dong Group. And he’d succeeded—not through formal introductions or business meetings, but through the universal language of competition, through proving himself on the battlefield of a game.

Now came the real challenge: turning that initial connection into something more substantial, something that could serve his purposes. Dong Young Master was interested, curious, perhaps even intrigued by the stranger who had matched his skill and earned his respect.

Joon-ho stood, stretching his limbs, and prepared to meet him face to face. The game was just the beginning.