Looks Like She's Terminally Ill

Choi Do-yun went to see his closest friend Yu Min-jae the week after forming a team with Jin Gyeo-wool.

"Hyung. Over here."

"Yu Min-jae~! Nice, how've you been?"

Yu Min-jae lived in Bucheon, between Seoul and Incheon. The distance between their homes made weekday meetups nearly impossible, so the two of them had arranged to meet over a free weekend.

"So what's this about? You said you had something important to talk about."

"Ahh… yeah, I've got something important all right… really important."

Before launching into the real conversation, Choi Do-yun started clearing his throat over and over. It was the same chronic affliction his older brother suffered from — pretension.

"The truth is, I'm putting a team together."

"A team?"

"Yeah. You've been interested for a while, right? An amateur team for the Presidential Cup."

Yu Min-jae gave a short nod. He was the one who'd brought up amateur teams first, not Choi Do-yun.

"When I suggested it, you wouldn't even pretend to listen. What got into you?"

"……Something came up."

As he said it, Choi Do-yun's face flushed a faint red. Yu Min-jae didn't talk much, but he was sharp — the kind of person who could read a room and adapt to any atmosphere. One look at the color rising in Do-yun's cheeks and he knew exactly what this was.

A girl problem. No question.

"So. Which young lady from where has stolen hyung's heart?"

"W-what. What are you even talking about?!"

Being quick-witted didn't mean Yu Min-jae was the type to dance around a subject. He went straight for the jugular, flustering Choi Do-yun and effortlessly steering him toward the answer he wanted.

"What, did she promise to date you if you win the tournament or something?"

"Hey! No!"

A strong denial is the same as a strong affirmation. Getting that worked up and still hoping not to give himself away? Yu Min-jae shrugged as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Hyung. Just be honest. What are you trying to hide between us?"

"Umm…"

To put it precisely, Choi Do-yun was incapable of hiding the truth in front of Yu Min-jae. Part of why Do-yun was such a disaster around girls was that he was a lifelong single, but his introverted personality played a role too. Yu Min-jae was the complete opposite. He was good-looking, and though he was only sixteen this year, he'd already gone through three girlfriends. He currently had a cute cat-faced girlfriend a year younger than him. In short, he was an insufferably popular guy.

Lying in front of someone like that was like a Gold-tier player bragging about his recon skills in front of a Master-tier player.

"Fine, whatever. You need to know anyway, so I might as well tell you. It's not like I'm going to build a team on lies."

Just what kind of reason would make him even consider lying? Curious about Do-yun's motives, Yu Min-jae pressed first.

"The girl side of this is the weirder part. Does she know recon well? I've never heard of someone offering to date you if you win a tournament."

"I told you it's not like that…"

How does this guy keep nailing it? Choi Do-yun recoiled.

"Can you actually read minds or what?"

"It's all over your face, hyung."

"Don't mess with me. Is there even room on my face for a sentence that long?"

Yu Min-jae sighed as if this barely qualified as impressive.

"Whatever. Just spit it out already. Now I'm curious too."

He genuinely wanted to know what this girl's angle was — how she'd managed to reel Choi Do-yun in, and why she wanted him in a tournament in the first place.

"First… look at this."

What Choi Do-yun pulled up was a highlight reel of Jin Gyeo-wool's best plays, compiled from the duo queue games they'd been grinding whenever they had free time over the past week. It was the work of Gyeo-wool's older brother, Jin Ju-yeong.

"ValKyrie, huh… Never heard that nickname before."

It had only been about two weeks since Jin Gyeo-wool hit Master tier. Of course Yu Min-jae — who'd been coasting in Grandmaster for months — wouldn't recognize it.

"…"

He'd planned to keep up a running commentary while watching, but he quickly abandoned the idea. The play from the user called ValKyrie was cleaner and more stable than he'd expected.

"What's this person's tier?"

"Hit Master two weeks ago."

"And before that?"

Choi Do-yun relayed exactly what he'd heard from Jin Ju-yeong.

"Uh… from what I remember, started last season in Plat?"

Last season's Platinum, and the moment this season opened, straight to Master?

Growing that fast isn't impossible, but… it's still impressive.

Yu Min-jae's curiosity sharpened further. A moment ago they'd been talking about something else entirely, but ValKyrie's play had sucked his full attention in. Aggressive pressure from the early game, minimizing their own deaths while forcing the enemy to dump resources into the top lane. From there, the games either snowballed mid and bot into a win, or pulled teammates in to take small-scale fights the other way.

To a Grandmaster's eye, there were some holes in the mid-to-late game macro — but even so, ValKyrie was always doing something. Pushing a wave, looking for a fight angle through a roam. Always something.

And the ward spots look researched… personal setups.

The way the ward placements shifted depending on the enemy jungler's champion was especially striking. You could see the work put in to minimize the gank risk that came with such aggressive play.

"I'm building a team with this person."

"…Building a team."

A very interesting proposal. Yu Min-jae shifted his gaze to Choi Do-yun.

"Don't tell me this person is a girl."

Choi Do-yun's whole body jerked. Yu Min-jae landing it in a single follow-up was honestly impressive in its own right.

"……Are you actually possessed?"

"Nah, I was just fishing. From the context it seemed like this was hyung's girl."

Choi Do-yun scratched his head.

"Yeah, she's a girl. She's a noona."

A noona. He'd figured she'd be pretty young — unexpected. Then again, someone with Choi Do-yun's personality couldn't handle dating younger. He'd be lucky not to get walked all over. Yu Min-jae snorted quietly.

"So did you actually promise to date if you win the tournament?"

"I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠keep telling you no."

"Then what? Why would a guy who never cared about tournaments suddenly want to enter one?"

"That's…"

He wanted to explain, but the moment he tried, the words tangled. Hadn't Jin Gyeo-wool taken a liking to him and used that as an excuse to ask him to enter the tournament together? Trying to unpack a girl's complicated feelings left Choi Do-yun's sentences in knots.

How do I even put this… Noona likes me but can't say it out loud. So she wants to get closer through the tournament and then confess? No, that's way too long. And it sounds ridiculously self-serving. A tournament isn't a joke… Plus it's an open tryout, so we can't half-ass it…

His head was a mess. Choi Do-yun, whose in-game style was usually pure improvisation, was not built for this kind of complicated thinking.

I'll just say this is the only chance. Play it desperate… I really am desperate, so.

So he decided to appeal to emotion — that he had to make this tournament no matter what. Whatever the reason, Yu Min-jae knew Do-yun's good nature, and that was why he'd always treated him gently, then ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and now.

"Honestly, if not this time, there won't be another chance. I don't know what I'd do after this, so I'm going to enter, put up a good result, and figure it out from there."

And those convenient words, once they passed through Yu Min-jae's thought process, produced an effect Choi Do-yun had never intended.

Hearing him, Yu Min-jae started turning it over himself.

If not this time, there won't be another chance?

That couldn't be right. She'd climbed from Platinum to Master and was only eighteen. Even as a girl, if she wanted to, she could keep entering amateur tournaments for years. So why call this the "last" chance?

And then, as if trying to keep Yu Min-jae's social prowess in check, Choi Do-yun added something he really didn't need to say.

"And even if you accept and end up on the same team… don't get too close to noona."

"…And why's that?"

No chance after this, and don't get close either. Becoming teammates meant getting close — that was natural. What kind of nonsense was "don't get friendly with your teammates" when you were entering a League of Council tournament?

As Yu Min-jae sat there with a brooding look, Choi Do-yun muttered,

"Just… take it as it is. I don't really want to explain more than that."

Choi Do-yun's intention — not wanting the subtle dynamic between him and Gyeo-wool exposed — transformed inside Yu Min-jae into an entirely new chain of thought.

If not this time, no chance… Don't get too close…?

It was a cliché he'd seen plenty of times. The way terminally ill characters acted in movies and dramas. They deliberately pushed away the people they loved, the people they were close to, the ones they'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠known for years — putting on a cold front and creating distance. Their own idea of consideration, so that when they were gone, the people left behind wouldn't ache for the empty space.

Is she actually terminally ill?

He couldn't be sure. Not without meeting Jin Gyeo-wool and hearing it himself. But a female player entering the Presidential Cup — not some casual event, but one of the top amateur tournaments in the country — that was not a decision you made without a serious reason. Of course, the possibility of a lie couldn't be ruled out either. Naive Choi Do-yun might have fallen for ValKyrie's act without realizing a thing.

I'll have to meet her and confirm it myself.

Either way, it had hooked Yu Min-jae's curiosity. If Do-yun had been played, he'd peel the scheming fox off him. And if she really was terminally ill — he'd help make the last stretch of her life shine.

Yu Min-jae accepted Choi Do-yun's proposal.

"All right. Let's meet and talk first."

"Oh. For real?"

"Yeah. Looking at the skill, I need to see it myself before I decide."

Watching him bounce with excitement, there was no question Choi Do-yun was completely sincere. Either ValKyrie had him thoroughly fooled, or nothing he'd said so far was a lie. He was a pathetic hyung who got jerked around every which way — but Yu Min-jae still couldn't just stand by and watch him get taken for a ride.

One week after the cafeteria incident, Jin Gyeo-wool headed back to the teachers' office.

"Here. The final confirmed plan."

"This is… already done?"

"Mm-hm. Teacher really gave it everything, Gyeo-wool."

Her eyes were glistening, as if to say she wasn't sure whether this was enough of an apology. Jin Gyeo-wool pushed aside that burdensome gaze as best she could.

"It doesn't look like there's any particular problem…"

It said the prize money and donation were foundation-funded, but the truth was it was coming straight out of Jin Gyeo-wool's pocket. What snagged her eye was the special notes section.

They'd actually managed to bring that Lee Do-jin to the event. Even if the teacher had once been his homeroom instructor — was this really possible?

Isn't it mid-season right now? Is it okay for him to drop by a charity event?

It was only one Saturday, but she still wasn't sure. He already had plenty of haters; if his form dropped because of this, the abuse would be vicious.

…No. Who am I to worry about him. I can't even take care of myself right now.

But he was a professional — a living witness to history. Someone as insignificant as Jin Gyeo-wool had no business fretting over him.

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

Focus on the tournament first.

According to Choi Do-yun, Yu Min-jae was seriously considering joining the amateur team. With Do-yun diligently helping her, Gyeo-wool needed to give everything she had to the work in front of her.

"Anyway, thank you so much for your help, Teacher."

Jin Gyeo-wool bowed a full ninety degrees in front of Kim Seongyeong. Whatever the catalyst had been, thanks to her, a staircase toward Gyeo-wool's pro debut had been laid down.

"All right. Give it everything you've got! There isn't much time, but you can do this, right?"

Jin Gyeo-wool gave a firm, resolute nod. After a short bow, she left the teachers' office, steeling her resolve once more.

The erosion rate the last time she'd checked yesterday: 16.58%.

Whether a week of all-nighters could push it to 20%, she didn't know — but if not, she needed to clear at least one more threshold before the semifinals began.

From an unknown girl only a handful of people had heard of, to standing tall in the finals of a small school tournament.

Twelve days left.