Looks Like This Is Only Just the Beginning (1)

"It wasn't your fault."

The moment Jin Gyeo-wool finished hearing the whole story, those were the first words out of her mouth — and they caught Hon Gyeo-wool completely off guard.

"Well… if you really dig into every little detail, it's not like either side was entirely in the right… Strictly speaking, they started it first. Yeah. But it's also true that the way you handled it got a little emotional…"

There it is.

Hon Gyeo-wool had only meant to tell her not to force it.

"It's fine. You don't have to go out of your way to cover for me."

She knew it herself by now. Last year, she had been living with something dark and bitter coiled up inside her, and because of that she had made enemies left and right.

But there had been nothing the Hon Gyeo-wool of that time could do about it. She had been desperate — obsessed — with catching up to Lee Do-jin, reaching for a dream that sat so high above her it might as well have been the sky.

And Lee Do-jin had stood in her way every single time. He had tried to convince her the path wasn't right for her. Begged her to choose something else. When she asked him to teach her the game, he did — and still told her not to become a pro gamer.

Hon Gyeo-wool had hated that. Dreams existed to be chased. Even knowing you might never reach them, you kept looking up at them — that was how you stayed alive.

"If anyone tries to tell me it was my fault, I'll dig my heels in till the end and swear it wasn't. I'll say it loud and clear — I wasn't the only one who messed up. And I've earned the right to say that. I even properly made up with that idiot who stole my assignment."

"You… made up?"

Jin Gyeo-wool blinked, genuinely surprised. How?

"…There was a fair amount of outside pressure involved, but either way, I apologized properly the day after the fight. And he said he was sorry too."

"So there was outside pressure…"

Jin Gyeo-wool couldn't say exactly what that pressure had been, but she figured their parents' connections and money had smoothed things over well enough.

"And that teacher… he had it coming."

"Yeah?"

"He was always like that. It wasn't just me. Two or three times a week he'd go after other kids with personal attacks too. I listened and listened until I couldn't take it anymore, and I finally said something. That was all."

Hon Gyeo-wool had just recited the teacher's lines word for word, so all Jin Gyeo-wool could do was nod in agreement.

"You're right about that. Picking a fight over a dead friend is… a lot."

"Right? Right?"

"If he'd only gone after your attitude in class, maybe. But he dragged Bom into it. That was on the teacher."

"Haa… thank you. I didn't think you'd actually get it."

And right then, a warning chime sounded — the Memory Erosion Rate was rising. Jin Gyeo-wool flinched, but kept her focus on the conversation.

"One thing I need to ask."

"Yeah. Go ahead."

There was something she had to confirm.

"Hypothetically. Say these incidents become a problem for your debut. Would you be okay with me apologizing for them in your place?"

Hon Gyeo-wool's reflection looked away, uncomfortable. Jin Gyeo-wool pressed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠again.

"For the sake of our dream — becoming pro gamers — let's say we have to lay down an apology first. If it comes to that, I'll apologize as much as anyone wants. It's not like I did any of it."

"…You don't have to put it like that. Like you're pinning the whole thing on me."

"Figure of speech. You know what I mean."

So? Are you giving me permission or not? Jin Gyeo-wool stared hard at Hon Gyeo-wool, who had stepped out beside her own seated reflection in the mirror.

Silent pressure. She wanted an answer, and she wanted it now.

Hon Gyeo-wool held out as long as she could, then finally took a step back.

"Do whatever you want. I have no intention of apologizing myself — but if apologizing is what it takes to go pro, and if you're the one doing it, then you have my full permission."

That was what she'd wanted to hear.

Jin Gyeo-wool smiled, warm and easy, and spoke like she was offering comfort.

"Still, I'm kind of jealous. I was a nobody forever — no scandals, no nothing. People never even looked my way."

"…Like I was some big deal either. Even if I'd started streaming as I was, nobody would've known about those two incidents until I got really famous."

Not true. SNS and internet communities these days were terrifying. And a girl with looks as extreme as Hon Gyeo-wool's drew eyes whether she wanted them or not.

One person recognizing her and posting a single thread would be enough — her personal information would get dug up overnight, and students who weren't even involved would flood in with "eyewitness" accounts, all of them wildly exaggerated and sensationalized.

Whether Hon Gyeo-wool's apology had simply missed its window, Jin Gyeo-wool couldn't say. But for now, she decided to trust her.

"An apology stream, huh. That could be fun. Be nice if it got us some buzz."

Hon Gyeo-wool stared at him for talking nonsense about an apology stream being fun.

"Why do you want buzz?"

At that, Jin Gyeo-wool laid out the concrete plan ahead — weaving in everything she'd just heard from Jin Ju-yeong.

She hadn't gotten the full picture, but Bae Do-hyun had kept a close eye on the ecology of the pro Recon scene even while streaming. For someone like him, this level of forecasting wasn't hard.

"The Recon League's been around for over five years now, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠still — not a single proper female pro in any league in the world. You know why?"

"…No. Just because there aren't any good enough players?"

"About eighty percent right."

Jin Gyeo-wool went on with a faint smile.

"At the end of the day, pro is a money game. Like you said — there still hasn't been a single woman who could hang with the average male first-string pro."

Hon Gyeo-wool listened with a serious face.

"On top of that, the infrastructure for female players is basically nonexistent. The second a woman joins a roster, the org has to eat a bunch of extra costs. Separate housing, for one. And the hit to the male teammates' focus? That counts as a cost too. Same salary, but whether you actually perform at tournaments is what decides if you're good value or dead weight."

"……"

It was a lot for Hon Gyeo-wool to take in. She had thought that if she and Lee Bom just worked hard enough, going pro would happen on its own. The scene was harsher than she'd imagined.

She had spent so long staring only at Lee Do-jin that her heart had been off in the clouds.

If she had kept chasing the pro dream alone after Lee Bom died, the ending was obvious. She wouldn't even have known how to become ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a pro gamer. She would have spent years battering herself against a door that wouldn't open, burned through the most important stretch of her life, and finally walked away empty-handed.

If Lee Bom had lived, it would have been different. Unlike Jin Gyeo-wool, she had been sharp — strategic.

When they first started the Devil Maiden channel, it had been Lee Bom who suggested Jin Ju-yeong take on the editor and manager role.

"Here's how I see it. For a female player to debut on a first-string pro roster, she needs a draw that goes beyond pure skill."

"…Like looks?"

"Exactly. You're quick. But the most important thing is still skill."

Korean League of Council fans were ruthless. No matter how popular a player was, no matter how memeable or likable — if they couldn't show up at tournaments with real results, the fans would bury them alive.

And League of Council fans already weren't exactly friendly toward female users. Would they embrace a female pro who dumped all her points into "charm" and left skill on the floor?

Not a chance.

They would write the front office and the GM a whole song of insults about who the hell paid good money to bench-warm a girl without thinking.

"So this is what I believe. If I want to debut as a first-string pro in this body…"

Jin Gyeo-wool's goal was locked in.

"I need to be able to go one-on-one with Lee Do-jin and at least not lose. Completely crushing him would be ideal, but that's not realistic right now."

It was 2018. Target debut: Spring 2020 at the latest.

Whether I can push the stats any higher… I'll have to keep experimenting to find out…

For the next two years, Jin Gyeo-wool intended to do whatever it took — raise every ability tied to the Soul Assimilation effect as far as it would go.

"It's our dream. I want to make it happen. And once we're pros, we'll aim even higher."

"At what?"

"Come on."

Even if Hon Gyeo-wool didn't know much about the league, Jin Gyeo-wool figured she'd catch this one.

"World Championship, obviously. The tournament that decides the number one team on the planet — the one your buddy Lee Do-jin has won three times."

Hon Gyeo-wool touched her chin, a spark of anticipation in her eyes.

A long road ahead. Jin Gyeo-wool started running the plan through her head again.

First — show gradual improvement through YouTube and personal streams.

Once she had some name recognition, the next step was amateur tournaments.

Gather like-minded teammates, or fill an open slot. With a little luck, she could run the Seoul regional qualifiers and claim a spot as a Seoul amateur team representative. Place well at the Presidential Cup nationals after that, and the pro orgs would start to notice.

If she got really lucky, someone might reach out during that process — but—

I'm a girl… they're not going to take me in easily.

For Bae Do-hyun, who was building the pro dream all over again, a woman's body was a serious constraint.

Some people wouldn't take him because he was a girl. Some would try to push him toward a completely different path — anything but the game — because he was a girl.

Some would tell him to give up on the dream entirely, because he was a girl.

What lay ahead was an unpaved road — nothing easy, nothing smooth.

But for Bae Do-hyun, who had already burned through his early twenties — the golden years of a pro gamer's life — getting a body this young was an enormous opportunity. Even if that body happened to be a girl's.

"I'm heading back to practice. Effort betrays you sometimes, sure — but nothing makes me stronger the way effort does."

Hon Gyeo-wool nodded twice in the mirror — go hard — and waved her on.

"If there's anything else I want to talk through, I'll come back. Hang in there till then. I know it's boring."

But just as Jin Gyeo-wool was about to step out of the mirror's range, Hon Gyeo-wool spoke up, carefully.

"……Hey. Co— could y—"

"What? Could what?"

"……Never mind. The incense candle's almost gone, so… use it sparingly."

She had meant to ask her to come at least once a month. The words wouldn't leave her mouth.

She had wanted to say that something about him reminded her of Bom — that familiar, aching warmth. Those words wouldn't come either.

Hon Gyeo-wool opened and closed her mouth several times, then buried what she had meant to say deep in her chest.

The thought that no one but Lee Bom would ever like a personality wreck like her. And the thought that once the incense candle ran out completely, she would be sealed inside the mirror for good.

Two anxieties closed around her throat.

"…The incense candle. I'll find more somehow. There's got to be a way to get it."

But just as she was about to sink into that inner dark, Jin Gyeo-wool pulled her straight back out — and with a full, warm smile that called her most precious friend to mind, she offered a goodbye that might stretch who knew how long.

"Until then — take care, Wool-ah."

It'd be even better if she called me Jjing-gyeol, the way my best friend used to. Hon Gyeo-wool muttered it under her breath as she watched Jin Gyeo-wool leave the mirror.

She knew better than anyone that the person she had just been talking to wasn't Lee Bom. And yet that familiar feeling refused to fade.

Maybe. Just maybe.

The incense candle had gone a little sideways — but it might have granted Hon Gyeo-wool's wish after all.

Because in place of Lee Bom, her only sun, it had brought her Bae Do-hyun: a passionate man who could warm her heart all over again.

Back at the computer, Jin Gyeo-wool checked the erosion indicator in the upper-right corner of the League of Council client.

So the warning chime earlier had been real.

The erosion rate climbed not only when she identified herself as Jin Gyeo-wool, but also when Hon Gyeo-wool felt something deep toward her. And those spikes scaled far higher than the erosion gained from a single game.

But the Memory Erosion Rate wasn't dead weight. It had a real use — clear milestones tied to the number itself.

She clicked the fresh notification under the erosion indicator, and a window packed with details bloomed across the center of the screen.