Completely Hooked
“Phew...”
I exhaled as I slipped off my headset, which had grown faintly damp with moisture without me even noticing.
It had been quite the scrap. Far more of one than I’d imagined.
Truth be told, I’d always harbored a quiet little disdain for the whole pro-gamer species in some corner of my heart.
First, because the league hadn’t even been active back when I was in my prime. Second, because I’d gotten pro offers myself.
An idol is supposed to stay somewhere far off and unreachable. The moment you realize you could become one yourself if you just felt like it, any real respect evaporates.
But this little opportunity had taught me something. Pros are pros for a reason. People who eat, sleep, and breathe the game really don’t go down easy.
It started with a first match I’d barely scraped out a win in, and then for some reason the players all came flocking, begging for one-on-ones of their own. Maybe watching that first game had sparked something in them.
Well, fine by me. Even if I lost, I didn’t have much to lose. And if I won, I could use the wish tickets to make them recite the Camilla Human Rights Declaration at the tournament.
I’d even wrung firm promises out of a few of them that they’d play Camilla in the league if they ever got the chance. All in all, a pretty massive haul.
“No way... no way I actually lost...”
One of the younger-looking players seemed especially devastated, but there was nothing I could do about that. I wasn’t about to throw a match just to spare his feelings.
He’d taste defeat someday anyway. Maybe this would help him grow.
That said, I hadn’t beaten every single one of them. A handful had taken me down, and among them was one guy I honestly wasn’t sure I could beat even if we rematched.
I’d heard he was the team captain. His play had been so striking that I’d memorized his name on the spot.
Lee Jun-hyeok. The moment I heard it, an old article floated up in my memory. Korea’s pride, the world-class Abyss player who’d turned down massive overseas contracts just to stay with Fusion Gaming—a true patriot.
His play really had been impressive. Every move carried that unpredictable spark that proved the “world-class” label wasn’t empty hype.
His physicals seemed every bit as sharp as Camilla’s body; even my surprise attacks he’d answered with casual ease.
It wasn’t prediction so much as pure reaction. Considering half his own teammates couldn’t keep up with those same plays, the guy was clearly abnormal.
That was why I’d decided a rematch wouldn’t give me any real shot.
Fifty-fifty, maybe? If I dusted off some ancient relics from my past, I might be able to scrape by. I’d heard he, like most of the others, had only started playing once Abyss became a god-tier game.
By that measure, he’d been playing less than five years and was already a top-tier pro.
It felt like the universe was whispering that hardworking ordinary people can never beat natural talent, and I got a little sad all over again. The world really is unfair—.
I was replaying the lost match in my head, mulling over how to bump my win rate higher, when the man himself came walking over with shining eyes.
“Good work. Looks like you ended up facing the whole squad somehow—you must be exhausted.”
“Ah... I’m fine. I’ve always had pretty good stamina—”
I genuinely wasn’t tired. Camilla’s body really did deliver on the performance front.
I grinned to show I was perfectly fine and swung my arms around a few times. Jun-hyeok’s eyes lit up even brighter than before—practically smoldering.
“Uh... Coach? Why are you looking at me like—”
“Have you ever considered going pro? Going pro?”
Grab.
He seized my hands as he said it—so fast even I couldn’t react in time.
The surprise lasted only a second. Looking at those blazing eyes while he held my hands, I got a pretty clear read on what kind of person he was. Ah. So he’s one of those.
A guy who’s truly, passionately serious about the game—a bit of a hot-blooded type. That was Lee Jun-hyeok in a single line.
Maybe he saw me as some kind of rival or worthy opponent? That would explain the whole “why aren’t you pro” routine.
“Pro, huh... I don’t know.”
“With your skill, Kayak, you could take the women’s league right now—no, even the men’s. You’d hold your own on the world stage. So why—”
“Uh, well...”
Honestly, I’ve always been a little weak against characters like this. The ones who throw their whole heart into everything—like Limetaq from the last tournament. People that earnest and overflowing with passion make it hard to just shut them down.
The guy in front of me was the same. When someone was recommending it this sincerely, flat-out saying “eh, doesn’t really sound fun” felt kind of wrong.
What saved me was the first player I’d beaten and claimed a wish ticket from... wait, what was his name again?
“Hyung, you can’t just keep doing this to random people. Pro offers are fine, but let go of her hands first, okay? In this day and age that kind of thing can blow up for real. You did the same thing to a fan last time and it got totally misread. Good thing you’re decent-looking or it would’ve been worse...”
The player stepped between us with a long-suffering sigh, then glanced at me, looking thoroughly flustered.
“I’m sorry. Hyung doesn’t mean anything weird by it. He just completely loses it the second Abyss is involved... He’s the one who suggested contacting you first, actually.”
Somehow the older-younger roles seemed completely reversed here.
I quickly reassured the guy fretting over every possible scandal in this treacherous world.
“It’s fine. He clearly doesn’t have any ulterior motives.”
I really hadn’t sensed even a shred of ulterior motive. Maybe he was hiding some superhumanly sly intentions, but from what I could feel, that wasn’t it either.
Just a pure game-obsessed maniac. Grabbing my hands had simply been his way of showing how serious he was.
“Thank you for understanding...”
“Must be rough on you too, if this happens a lot.”
“Yeah, well...”
I gave his shoulder a couple of comforting pats and somehow he looked even more drained. Then he turned back to me and asked again.
“...You remember my name, right? You even took a wish ticket off me.”
I flashed him a smile and turned to Jun-hyeok, ignoring the “that’s so mean” muttering from behind.
“Jun-hyeok.”
“I’m sorry. I got a little carried away for a moment—. No, not that kind of carried away—I just got so excited all of a sudden.”
How did he keep picking only those words? In a way it was almost pure. Looking at that pretty decent face of his, I could suddenly understand why people said he had the most female fans.
Anyway, that wasn’t important right now.
Because a rather excellent idea had just occurred to me.
“That’s fine. More importantly—”
Any deal goes smoothly when the other party wants something from you.
To this top player who seemed desperately eager for my pro debut, I decided to set one condition.
“You asked me what I thought about going pro, right?”
“Yes. You have real potential, Kayak. You’re a Camilla one-trick, but watching you play, I can tell you’d handle other heroes just fine—unlike most specialists. So in the pro scene you’d—”
Whoa whoa. Don’t cross that line.
“I only play Camilla.”
I hardened my expression as I said it, and Jun-hyeok blanked out for a second. I seized the moment and delivered the line I’d prepared.
“Thaaat said, if I actually went pro I’d probably have to play other heroes too. The current OPs like Lenok or Jerome or Dan... those kinds of picks...”
“Then—!”
“But if I ever made my pro debut, I’d want my first match—my debut game—to be on Camilla. And right now, this season where Camilla is actually considered kind of OP, would be perfect for that... Unfortunately, even if I did go pro, by then Camilla would already have been nerfed.”
I put on a deliberately wistful expression, as if I were truly heartbroken. Thinking about Camilla becoming a corpse again actually did make my eyes prickle a little.
“For my sake... could you show me Camilla thriving in the league this season? If you did that, I might actually start wanting to go pro...”
As I spoke, I took the hands that the other player had just freed and clasped them again. Jun-hyeok’s body twitched, and from the side I heard someone suck in a sharp breath.
Well, hands are just hands. They don’t wear out. This much was fine.
Plus I’d already built in an escape hatch with “I might.” I said I might want to—not that I would.
Any normal person would refuse a deal after hearing something like that. It was only a verbal promise anyway.
But for our world-class, absolute top player—the “if you’re Korean, please support Lee Jun-hyeok” Lee Jun-hyeok—my words seemed to have struck some deep chord.
“The first season her favorite hero can actually play in the league... too late for a pro debut...”
“Motivation... the greatest talent... a prospect... I have to lead her...”
He muttered to himself for a moment, strength seeming to drain from him.
Then the fire returned to his eyes—somehow blazing even brighter than before.
“I promise! That I will make Camilla shine in the league! That I will play in a way that won’t embarrass Kayak, wherever she might be watching!”
“Th-thank you.”
He squeezed my hands even tighter than before. Whether it was unconscious or a deliberate show of resolve, I couldn’t tell.
I’d steered him this way on purpose, but I hadn’t expected the reaction to be quite this heated. I felt a tiny twinge of conscience, like I’d just toyed with a pure-hearted guy.
But... well... all’s well that ends well. Coming to the team house had been for this exact purpose from the start—to get Camilla into the league.
Mission accomplished, I smiled brightly. Looking at my face, Jun-hyeok grinned back with equal passion.
“Completely hooked...”
The only one quietly murmuring that was the nameless player watching the whole scene from the side.