anime characters, and game art, a man in his late 20s sat playing video games in the middle of the night—completely unbothered by the existence of time.
He had been gaming since noon. It was now well past midnight, and he hadn't moved an inch.
The door creaked open just as he cleared another stage.
"Master, you should really get some sleep. You've been sitting there far too long," said a man in his forties, dressed like a butler.
Jin Isoo yawned and stretched, nodding in lazy agreement before slumping onto his bed like a dead seal. The butler shook his head in silent concern.
He'd watched this boy grow into a man-child. Still the same. Detached. Delusional. Probably unaware other humans existed.
He gently closed the door.
---
3:00 PM – The Next Day.
The estate was buzzing with staff moving about when a piercing scream echoed from the master's bedroom.
Everyone froze.
Butler Choi sprinted up the stairs and flung the door open.
"Master! Are you alright?!"
Jin Isoo sat upright in bed, eyes wide, chest heaving.
"Mr. Choi..." he gasped.
The butler rushed to his side, scanning the room for intruders, maybe a ghost.
"It's gone."
"...What is?"
"Katashi. He's gone."
Jin Isoo jumped out of bed and began frantically digging through his massive display of anime figurines.
Butler Choi looked around, utterly lost.
"...Master Isoo, what exactly is a 'Katashi'?"
Jin Isoo slumped dramatically to the floor, clutching his head.
"HE'S MY LIMITED-EDITION SAMURAI FIGURINE! SIGNED. FROM. JAPAN!!!"
Mr. Choi blinked.
At this rate, he was going to need therapy.
Jin Isoo remained on the floor, fetal position activated, mumbling like a war veteran.
"I should've protected him... I should've LOCKED the display... I failed him..."
Butler Choi stared at his master like a man who just realized he was babysitting a fully grown child. For life.
Suddenly—a knock.
The door creaked open.
A young maid peeked her head in. "Uhm, Master Isoo?"
He didn't answer.
Butler Choi gestured for her to speak.
"Your packages arrived… They're in the living room. There's a lot again."
…
Silence.
Isoo's eyes snapped open.
"Packages…?"
The girl nodded.
"Boxes. Stacked high. Real high."
Without warning, Isoo shot up like a rocket.
"MOVE, OUT OF MY WAY! THIS ISN'T A DRILL!"
Butler Choi stumbled backward, nearly twisting his knee, as Isoo sprinted past him in Pikachu-print pajama pants and one sock.
Isoo's feet barely touched the stairs as he flung himself downward in a dramatic spiral.
"PLEASE—PLEASE LET HIM BE IN THERE—KATASHI, I'M COMING BABY," he wailed like he was running through airport security to stop a love interest from boarding a plane.
---
INT. LIVING ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
Towering boxes. Labels. Fragile stickers. Japanese kanji.
Isoo skidded to a halt in front of the pile. His hands trembled as he tore through the packaging tape like a starving raccoon.
One box.
Two boxes.
Giant plushie.
Manga set.
Custom Gundam model.
AND THEN…
There it was.
Wrapped in golden foam. Sealed in official limited-edition plastic. Shining like holy grail under the AC light—
KATASHI.
Signed. Numbered. Mint condition.
His eyes welled up.
"I-I didn't lose you…"
Butler Choi, who finally caught up, wheezed in the doorway.
"I don't get paid enough for this."
"I dreamt that you disappeared…" Isoo whispered to the figurine, hands shaking like he was cradling a newborn.
"That's what I get for falling asleep watching Naruto while reading fan theories at 3AM."
He gently placed Katashi on his throne—an LED-lit shelf labeled "My Sons"—then stood in silence.
But only for a second.
Because next?
He started sobbing. Loud, ugly sobs.
---
INT. KITCHEN – LATER
Butler Choi poured himself a glass of soju in the middle of the day like any man on the brink of retirement.
The maid who brought the boxes walked in.
"…Was it really that serious?"
Butler Choi didn't answer.
He just sipped slowly.
"…He's hugging the figurine again, isn't he?" the maid asked.
"Like it's his firstborn child," Choi muttered. "And I'm supposed to be the one with grey hairs."