Game Over: Play again?

Han Yuri lives inside a world of pixels - where controller clicks feel more real than voices, and every emotion can be measured in frames per second. Her small bedroom glows with violet LEDs and the hum of endless rain, a quiet cocoon for a girl who speaks best through games.

But everything shifts the night her sister drags her out to watch a survival show - I-LAND.

There, under neon lights and cold camera lenses, a boy named Nishimura Riki (Ni-ki) moves like code come alive. His dancing isn't choreography - it's precision, rhythm translated into data. To Yuri, he isn't just a trainee. He's a player reading reality's hitbox, a human with no input lag.

What begins as idle curiosity turns into obsession - not the fangirl kind, but the gamer's kind: the instinct to understand the system, to study the player who breaks it. As Ni-ki falls, rises, and fights his way through the show's brutal hierarchy, Yuri begins to see something she's never felt in her own life - momentum.

And then, one night, it happens.

The final announcement.

"Ni-ki... will debut in ENHYPEN."

Yuri doesn't scream like her sister. She doesn't cry. She just stares at the screen - heart pounding like a countdown clock - and whispers, "He did it."

Through flickering screens and sleepless nights, a strange connection forms: one hidden behind algorithms, across airwaves, between two prodigies who speak in movement and timing instead of words.

He plays the beat.

She reads the frames.

Together, without ever meeting, they rewrite what it means to play - and to feel.