Chapter 3

Minho is just really bored. Nothing more than that.

And also a sudden bonus at work.

Minho would’ve been happy if the bonus were for something actually good, rather than for a package of ten individual training sessions bought by one client.

With Minho, and no one else.

Considering that during the entire trial session Minho had been trying to drill one damn figure eight into her, and it brought absolutely no results, because the girl—woman? well, she was definitely older than him—was interested only in how Minho’s hips looked, and not at all in how they moved.

Alright, seems like it really is time to learn how to make coffee.

Changbin laughs way too loudly, throwing his sweaty T-shirt at Minho, and it makes him want not just to roll his eyes, but to turn his pupils into little suns.

Changbin can be downright disgusting.

Sometimes Minho would shoot him without hesitation.

But that’s still illegal, he’d go to prison for that, his mom would be upset, and his dad would stop giving him money.

So not an option.

Still, he can sublimate his urges into something more acceptable. For example, shooting orcs in some VR video game.

Minho recently watched a review of one like that on YouTube.

He could probably look for some gaming clubs near the dorms, but Minho is just too lazy. Getting on the subway and taking the familiar route is much easier.

Even if it ends up more expensive.

The same guy at the register looks openly displeased when Minho stuffs not only large bills—unfortunately not enough—but also all the loose change lying around in his wallet at him, and the much-hyped robot exhibition looks frankly deserted when Minho finally steps inside.

The money has once again been spent not where it should’ve been, but Changbin is already back, and there’s someone to steal food from.

Minho will survive. He’s used to it.

He’ll probably soon get used to the fact that nothing works at this incredibly over-advertised event either.

This time Minho doesn’t even talk to the guy at the VR stand—what’s the point of him sitting there at all if nothing works anyway?—and goes straight to the familiar corner.

“What time is it in Tokyo right now?” greeting an inanimate machine feels kind of strange, and stupid questions are probably something the robot is used to anyway, and might even help its processor—or whatever it has there—warm up a bit.

Minho really needs the robot to be talkative today. Otherwise the money will have been thrown away for absolutely nothing.

The robot, apparently, has staged an act of solidarity with the stupid VR.

“And hello to you too, Minho,” no, the developers definitely need to be told that their product is way too familiar for Korea, and the sound is bad this time as well, like someone is talking with their mouth full. “Weren’t you taught that you’re supposed to say hello before asking stupid questions?”

Wow. Someone’s in a mood today.

Or is this just some special program that reads Minho’s emotions and adjusts accordingly?

Because that’s about how irritated he feels right now.

Worth testing.

“Yes, sorry, Hani,” Minho drags it out as sweetly as he can, and the strange rustling interference from the speaker abruptly disappears. “Missed me, baby? How are you doing anyway? Oh, and yeah—what time is it in Tokyo right now?”

Minho does his best not to giggle, and the robot seems to freeze for a moment.

Yeah, it’s probably really trying to read emotions.

Cool. Even lifted his mood.

“Why are you talking to me like that?” there’s so much visible confusion in the robot’s voice that Minho almost finds it endearing, but he quickly pulls himself together. “I’m not baby, and not Hani, I—”

“You’re Han Jisung,” Minho’s grades in subjects that require a lot of memorization are admittedly so-so, but he’s not Chan, and he’s still far from senile dementia. “But Hani sounds cuter. Pass that along to your developers.”

The robot only draws out some half-questioning “uh-huh” in response, and Minho gives up, quietly giggling and tilting his head to the side.

Truly unbearably cute.