Where Destinies Cross: Spring (1)

The moment the awards ceremony ended, Jin Gyeo-wool slipped away from the group. She needed a private word with Coach Bae Jeong-ung about the players' prospective contracts.

"Hey. Check this out."

Gong Je-hyeon held up a few solo shots of Jin Gyeo-wool and turned to the others.

"What do you guys feel when you look at these?"

Nobody could quite parse the intent behind the question. Yu Min-jae cracked one eye halfway open and answered flatly.

"She's pretty. Same as always."

And he wasn't wrong. The Gyeo-wool in the photos was breathtaking. Medal around her neck, beaming like pure sunlight — she looked every bit the angel.

"Come on. You're the guy who thought she was terminally ill and you still can't see it? Choi Do-yun, you don't get it either?"

At the words terminally ill, Yu Min-jae let out a strangled yelp and clamped both hands around Gong Je-hyeon's throat. Even so, he leaned in for another look at Gyeo-wool's expression in the photo.

"Huh… she does look a little brighter?"

"Right? Right?"

Finally, someone who understood. Gong Je-hyeon shook off Min-jae's grip and preened.

"It's like Noona finally feels… human, you know?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah."

Choi Do-yun nodded in agreement.

Before, she'd been like a hollow shell of a person who could only spit the same words on loop — pro debut, pro debut — as if nothing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠else existed. The girl in these photos looked like someone her age who had actually achieved something and was genuinely happy about it.

"I don't think I've ever seen her smile this happily before."

"Dude, this is basically the first time. I don't know why, but Noona was always in full Serious Mode around us."

"True."

Having finally clawed his way free of the mortifying memory of his own misunderstanding, Yu Min-jae drifted closer and added his two cents.

"She wasn't dying, but she was definitely in a hurry about something. …I still have no idea what she was rushing toward, though."

The fact that he could say the words terminally ill out loud himself suggested his mental recovery was more or less complete.

Gong Je-hyeon smirked and kept going.

"Well. That's pro gaming for you, right? One good season and cash out. Make your money fast, get rich, retire. Isn't that everyone's goal?"

A round of sharp looks flew his way. The only one who seemed to accept the bleak truth of the statement and wear the melancholy that came with it was Ha Jeong-uk.

Apparently fed up with Je-hyeon's smug attitude, Min-jae delivered a clean jab.

"My goal is to win as many titles as possible. Unlike you, hyung, I'm not obsessed with money."

Gong Je-hyeon looked scandalized.

"Who are you calling money-obsessed?"

"The guy who keeps throwing cash into stupid bets and losing every time? Yeah, that tracks."

"…. Okay, I've got nothing for that one."

Je-hyeon slumped, dejected — and that was when a piercing stare from the stands found him.

Their first day in Kaohsiung. Two days ago, right after the opening match, a certain man had offered him an absurd contract worth three hundred million won.

Jang Jae-hong stood some distance away, giving a small nod, beckoning him over.

"I'm, uh, gonna hit the bathroom."

"Come straight back to the hotel after. Coach wants us all to go sightseeing together."

"Yeah, got it."

He cut quickly around the side of the stage and headed toward Jang Jae-hong.

The man greeted him with an easy, welcoming smile.

"Have you made up your mind?"

"…. Show me the contract. I'm not an idiot. I need to confirm it's legitimate before I decide anything."

It was a perfectly reasonable demand. Who in their right mind signed a contract without reading it first?

Any damage from failing to check the fine print landed squarely on the person who signed. Scrutinizing every clause wasn't optional — it was mandatory.

Suspicion sharp in his eyes, Gong Je-hyeon watched Jae-hong rummage through the backpack slung over his shoulder.

A moment later Jae-hong pulled out the contract and looked up — and once again, that angel was visible in his gaze.

What the hell is that thing?

If nothing else, Jae-hong's behavior made the influence of whatever lived behind his eyes impossible to ignore. Gong Je-hyeon spent a long time reading every line, and then he understood.

The contract Jang Jae-hong had handed him contained not a single poison clause. It was the pure crystallization of good intent. The kind of contract an angel might offer.

I'll solve every problem you have. Take my hand and fly. That was the only way to read it.

And Jin Gyeo-wool? Je-hyeon cast his mind back over the time he'd spent with her and tried to picture the future.

If I have it. I'll pay you back.

Let me think about it.

Gyeo-wool wasn't the type to lie. She'd hesitate, sure — but when it came to helping a teammate she cared about, she wouldn't hesitate to put her hand in her pocket.

But there was a devil sleeping inside her. She'd slap some nasty condition on it. Something like, Stay on my team until I retire.

Not that it would be a bad deal, exactly. Getting to keep playing beside a girl who was that good at the game and that beautiful? You wouldn't even have to work to make a name for yourself. The reputation would come on its own.

"…It's a perfect contract."

And yet.

Jin Gyeo-wool was also the girl Gong Je-hyeon had fallen for at first sight.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The second they'd dueled one-on-one, he'd realized he could never beat her on pure skill, and he'd discarded those feelings on the spot. But…

He still liked her. Still paid attention. Still kept her in a corner of his heart.

Ordinary happiness had always been a star Gong Je-hyeon couldn't reach. His family's circumstances were that brutal.

But his hunger for life burned hotter than anyone's, and that was enough to endure even the harshest existence.

So what if he had to look a little pathetic in front of other people? So what if he scraped and clawed over every last won?

That was how he'd lived. That was the only way he could live. What else was he supposed to do?

The problem was that even he had a line he couldn't cross: looking pathetic in front of a girl he liked.

My father's drowning in two hundred fifty million won of debt, and my mother can't even get proper treatment. I need a huge amount of money. Please sign a contract with me for hundreds of millions.

How the hell was he supposed to say something that miserable to Jin Gyeo-wool's face?

"I have a question."

"Go ahead."

Having read the contract carefully, Gong Je-hyeon made his decision with absolute certainty.

"You hate Lee Do-jin, don't you, Jang Jae-hong? And it seems like you hate Jin Gyeo-wool too. I don't know why."

"…."

Jae-hong's expression turned unreadable.

"That's fine. But if you think this contract puts a leash on me, you're dead wrong. This is a fair deal between us."

No matter how much ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the money felt like taking on a mountain of debt—

Gong Je-hyeon believed in his own worth, and he said it straight.

"Nowhere in this contract does it say I have to sabotage those two just because you want me to. Am I right?"

Jang Jae-hong gave a small shrug. The angel in his eyes was still praying.

"You're right. Gong Je-hyeon is correct."

In that case.

"I'll take your word for it. One more favor, then."

"Yes. Go ahead."

"Raise the signing bonus. Four hundred million."

Three hundred million would have covered the family debt and his mother's hospital bills just fine. But—

"This is pretty important to me. Raise it, and I'll take the deal."

Betraying the trust of the noona who'd asked him to keep walking this road together — three hundred million wasn't enough for that.

He still trusted her. He needed an amount so staggering it would justify the wavering. Only with that kind of excuse backing him could Gong Je-hyeon declare that he was leaving Jin Gyeo-wool and taking Jae-hong's hand instead.

The angel in Jang Jae-hong's eyes smiled with infinite grace.

"Very well. I'll raise it. I've already floated the number once — no reason I can't go higher."

Looking thoroughly satisfied, Jae-hong extended his hand for a shake. Gong Je-hyeon pressed his lips tight and took it.

"I'd like to finalize this as soon as we're back in Korea. I'll give you the location of our team offices. We'll meet there."

"Understood."

"I'm truly glad Gong Je-hyeon will be joining Falcon. I look forward to working with you."

The smile he wore at the end looked less like an angel and more like a fallen Lucifer. But Gong Je-hyeon had been ready to sign a deal with the devil named Jin Gyeo-wool. He was well past the point of caring about things like that.

"CCK needs a generational shift. Together, let's flip 2019 CCK — and the entire world — on its head."

No matter how hard Jang Jae-hong tried to imitate a devil, he would never be able to match the aura Noona carried.

That was how monumental Jin Gyeo-wool was in Gong Je-hyeon's heart.

Above the hotel's rooftop garden, the sky bloomed with color as fireworks burst over the river.

There, Jin Gyeo-wool stood looking out over the Love River, deep in a hurried phone call.

"His father has business debt…."

— Yeah. And it sounds ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like his mother's health is bad.

"What's wrong with her?"

— Leukemia, apparently.

"……."

His home situation was even worse than she'd imagined.

The hand that had been resting under her chin drifted up to her forehead.

"She still… hasn't gotten proper treatment, has she? Not with money that tight."

— Seems that way. And because she couldn't get proper care, it looks like she never fully recovered.

Leukemia was a disease you could absolutely beat if you paid for real, thorough treatment.

The picture Cha Ga-eul had roughly confirmed of Gong Je-hyeon's family situation was grim. His mother had almost certainly been stuck with half-measures — just enough to keep the disease from getting worse — because she couldn't shoulder treatment costs that ran into the tens of millions of won.

Why didn't this idiot tell me?

Gyeo-wool started replaying every moment they'd spent together.

What came back were scenes that looked an awful lot like bullying. Grabbing him by the hair. Teasing him. Smacking him around with money.

…Ah, shit.

Of course he hadn't said anything. She'd built an environment where serious conversation was basically impossible, and then sat around waiting for him to open up first.

It was a mistake born of getting drunk on luxuries she'd never had as Bae Do-hyun — luxuries that came with becoming Jin Gyeo-wool — and running wild because of them.

…Gyeo-wool's personality had played its part too.

"Knowing Je-hyeon's personality…. If I just offer him money, he'll refuse, right?"

Cha Ga-eul sighed on the other end of the line.

— Probably. Hmm….

She seemed about to say something more, then trailed off into a vague mumble.

Gyeo-wool was too busy thinking about Je-hyeon to catch it.

"Still, I should at least try talking to him…."

— Yeah. That'd probably be best.

"…I'll do it on the flight home."

Unlike the flight out, the return plane was configured 2/4/2 in economy. If she wanted, she could plant Je-hyeon in the seat beside her and have a proper, unhurried conversation.

There was almost no chance he'd bring it up himself during the group sightseeing that evening, so this was the only real option.

Maybe it was the old regret of never having looked after the people around her well enough.

Gyeo-wool's face tightened with quiet frustration. Watching the fireworks explode overhead, she bit down on her lip.

And Jeong-uk feels like he's going to quit too….

She'd always known they couldn't all walk the same road forever. That didn't stop the dull ache in the corner of her chest.

As if to give voice to the tightness in her throat, the river wind carried the acrid smell of gunpowder.

Things were getting complicated, but a promise was a promise — sightseeing in Kaohsiung with the rest of the team still had to happen. Gyeo-wool returned to the hotel room.

Getting ready to head out, she absently opened the Recon client — and froze at what she found.

She'd been certain it wouldn't cross fifty percent. And yet the Memory Erosion Rate had already blown past it.

She checked the Memory Log first. One objective had been completed.

What exactly had she resolved?

It wasn't as if she'd found the clue about Lee Bom that Hon Gyeo-wool wanted. She'd tried to get the incense candle, and Jang Jae-hong had stolen that right out from under her.

Winning the Presidential Cup? The IeSF World Championship? Getting closer to going pro counts as solving a problem?

None of it made sense. Gyeo-wool hurriedly checked the floating notifications one by one.

A new side effect had been added — the Companion Spirit's habits seeping into her body — and an utterly incomprehensible entry called Fate of the Soul had appeared. It didn't seem like an ability, yet there it sat, occupying space like it owned the place. Deeply suspicious.

And I can't even check the details because the conditions aren't met.

What kind of unhelpful system was this?

On the other hand, it was a relief. She'd been worried something massive would shift the second it hit fifty percent.

No major distortion in her consciousness. No dramatic change in her body.

The tournament's over. Maybe I should take a break and talk with Wool-i for a bit….

But the incense candle she'd finally tracked down had been stolen by Jang Jae-hong. Lighting one in a hotel room full of teammates to chat with Hon Gyeo-wool would just get her labeled a lunatic. Wool-i would definitely give her an earful for that.

Better to wait until she got home. Gyeo-wool made the silent resolution and let out a short sigh — and that was when it happened.

— Did you call me?

"……."

— What is this? Everything looks clearer than before…?

Hon Gyeo-wool's voice. Or rather, it felt like Jin Gyeo-wool's own voice was echoing a second time inside her head.

— Wait. This is Taiwan? Did you find the incense candle? Huh?

Ah. Not her imagination, then.

"Hey — how are you talking right now?"

Startled, Gyeo-wool muttered the words out loud — and Choi Do-yun, sitting right beside her, nearly jumped out of his skin.

"I… I've always been able to talk?"

Realizing her mistake, Gyeo-wool hastily shook her head. Meanwhile, Hon Gyeo-wool sounded just as confused.

— I don't know either. What's going on? Did you light the candle?