Shu Yuxin wasn’t exactly a hardcore otaku.

If being an otaku simply meant “preferring to stay home,” she might technically qualify. But when it came to the tangled web of otaku subcultures? She fell far short.

She had only surface-level exposure to anime and manga—aware, but never deep. If pressed, the only niche she knew decently was *Kantai Collection*. Years ago, she’d foolishly believed someone’s claim that the game was “super chill.” Now? She wanted to mutter, “What a load of bullshit.”

Games were her real passion—broad tastes, too. Single-player, online, PC, PlayStation… she’d tried nearly everything. Only Xbox and Switch were missing. Simple reason: no cash.

So Peng Xiaoxiao’s chat with the model club’s chubby guy left her clueless. Nothing to add. The table’s displays—a Gundam figure here, a sleek figurine there—caught her eye briefly, then faded. Pretty? Sure. But without knowing their stories, they stayed just that. A few military models stood out though: a Leopard 2A6 tank, a USS *Missouri* battleship parked at the edge. She’d built a *Missouri* kit herself in high school—placed her phone before it, performed that “mystic summoning ritual” for a miracle pull in *Kantai Collection*. Never worked.

That model still sat in her childhood bedroom. But the grown-up Shu Yuxin had long outgrown the hobby.

Slipping into a sentimental mood, she let out a soft sigh for lost youth. Peng and the model club guy showed no sign of stopping—almost syncing up. Guess she was free for a bit. She glanced around, picked a direction, and strolled off alone.

Perimeter club booths were quieter than the central square. Still, a few buzzed with energy. Like the Gaming Club.

She paused there. Peng had mentioned this school had one. Rare these days. Society raced forward, but parents’ minds lagged. Many still saw games as pure evil—blind to any upside. Even with esports gaining legitimacy, stigma clung tight. Open-minded parents? Maybe tolerant. Conservative ones? Say you wanted an esports career—they’d likely ground you for a month.

Universities weren’t strict, yet still swayed by that mindset. Gaming clubs often got rejected. Simple logic to critics: “Just people gaming. How’s that different from an internet café?”

Shu Yuxin saw it clearly. So hearing this school had a Gaming Club? Mild surprise.

Now? Not just had one—it was packed. Crowds layered thick around the booth. From outside, she saw nothing. Only snatches of roaring laughter, sudden cheers.

They were discussing games. Snippets suggested *Glory* or *League of Legends*.

She never clicked with MOBAs or RTS. Tried *League* once—got utterly crushed by the AI in tutorial. Never touched the genre again. Hearing everyone geek out over it now? A faint disappointment flickered. She’d pictured a club for diving into epic single-player titles.

“Hey, girl… thinking of joining a club?” A voice came from behind. She turned. A guy. Chubby, but not overly—taller than the model club guy, so it worked. Hair slightly long, messy. White tank top, loud floral shorts, flip-flops. Bottle of mineral water in hand. He tilted slightly toward her. Tone had been cheeky earlier, but his face? Dead serious. Almost *too* serious.

“Ah, just looking,” Shu Yuxin replied, stepping back instinctively.

He wiped sweat from his brow, studied her, then the booth. Leaned in, voice low: “You were staring at the Gaming Club like you were lost in thought. You into games?”

“Kinda. I enjoy them.”

“What kind?” His expression stayed stone-faced. Then, as if catching himself: “Just asking. Maybe I can suggest a club.”

She thought. Answered honestly: “Prefer single-player stuff. Not really into trendy online games.”

“Single-player? What counts? Every game calls itself a ‘blockbuster’ these days. Vague. Examples?”

She almost smiled. This guy was… oddly funny.

“Nothing super mainstream. I try whatever interests me—PC, PlayStation. *Uncharted*, stuff like that… dabble in online games sometimes.”

He lifted his tank top to wipe sweat, zero concern for image. Grinned after. “Nice! You play PS? Girls like you are rare. Wanna join *our* club? We’ve got consoles, PCs, tons of games, high-end gear. Guaranteed fun.”

“The Gaming Club?” She glanced back.

He shook his head. “Nah. That ‘Gaming Club’? Barely anyone actually games there. Just a bunch of ‘real-life fulfilled’ couples flaunting relationships—constantly feeding everyone ‘dog food.’ Makes me nauseous. Ours is the *Esports & Entertainment Club*. Booth’s over there. Follow me.”

He turned and walked toward the periphery.

Shu Yuxin hesitated a heartbeat. Then followed.