Gong Je-hyeon / Loki_MID (1)
ValKyrie “I’m going to become a pro gamer.”
→ Skill unknown, but she’s gonna go pro no matter what. Female quota, whatever — just hand over a roster spot.
ValKyrie “Here, I’m going to become the greatest pro gamer of all — one who surpasses the world-famous League of Council star player you all know, Lee Do-jin!!”
→ Lee Do-jin’s washed. I’m better.
The remarks Jin Gyeo-wool had made at the Hwasong High tournament rode Lee Do-jin’s fame and spread across the country in no time. The public eye, however, was still far from kind.
A women’s quota system that handed out roster spots to anyone female, regardless of proven ability. Fans were furious, convinced CCK was about to become the latest casualty of reverse discrimination.
Jin Gyeo-wool couldn’t have cared less. Back when she’d been Bae Do-hyun, the LoC gallery had been a place she drifted in and out of whenever she was bored. A few posts like these weren’t about to weigh on her mind.
Pro gaming was a profession proven by skill. The moment she started showing overwhelming ability, they would have no choice but to acknowledge her. And if she couldn’t make everyone well-disposed toward her, the next best strategy was simply to grow her share of genuine fans.
By early April, the amateur team’s roster was finally entering the home stretch. When Cha Ga-eul and Han Yeo-reum announced they would serve as coach and manager, Gyeo-wool had been skeptical — but the two were taking the roles surprisingly seriously, so she decided to leave it to them for now.
It was oddly endearing, watching kids who barely knew anything about LoC come to her with question after question. They picked things up fast enough that it never really became a source of stress. True to someone studying business management, Cha Ga-eul had even gone so far as to track down coaches from other amateur teams and sit through special lectures on team operations. On top of that, she’d dragged in a recommendation for the long-vacant support role. At this point, she’d already done half a coach’s job.
The team’s support recruit was all but locked in. That left one final seat — and the mid laner tryout had become the critical issue.
Jin Gyeo-wool had been lucky. She’d kicked off the team’s recruitment with outstanding talents like Choi Do-yun and Yu Min-jae. But even a strong start, it seemed, wasn’t guaranteed to carry all the way through.
Figures… being a girl is holding me back.
It grated on her, but she couldn’t exactly blame people for hesitating to build a team with her. If the old Bae Do-hyun had been in a similar position, he would have turned it down with the exact same words. A female player? Don’t even joke about that.
In the LoC scene, women were treated like dead weight — constantly dismissed with the usual slurs. The skilled ones who did appear from time to time gradually earned recognition not as women, but as some kind of “new humanity.” Even fans preferred calling them by their proper names rather than “that girl who’s good,” drawing a deliberate line between them and every other female player.
Jin Gyeo-wool was walking a similar path. After the Hwasong High tournament, her NewTube fans had coined the nickname Ulsa in honor of Team Winter Kingdom. In the original animated film the name came from, Elsa hadn’t drawn attention simply for being a woman — she’d become a phenomenon because she was overpowered and beautiful. The fans had seen that same overwhelming something in Gyeo-wool.
And weren’t her teammates already working hard to improve how people saw her? Gyeo-wool sent back a cheerful reply and set off on the walk home with her friends.
But just as she was about to step through the school gates, someone blocked her path.
“Jin Gyeo-wool. Right?”
Gyeo-wool had a habit when it came to remembering people. As a true LoC addict, she tended to overlay champion images onto everyone she met. Choi Do-yun gave off the vibe of a love-blinded raccoon from Basteyan’s kit. Yu Min-jae carried himself with an emperor’s aloof dignity, so he was Azir, Emperor of the Sands. And the boy standing in front of her now looked like the type who went around making girls cry—
“Twisted Fate?”
“Uh… well, TF is my main, yeah. How’d you even know that?”
She’d spoken the thought out loud without meaning to. He cleared his throat repeatedly, brushing it off as nothing.
“So. What’s your name, and what do you want.”
From first impressions alone, he looked like the kind of guy who spent his free time charming girls. But contrary to Gyeo-wool’s expectation of some weird come-on, he’d come looking for her with an entirely different purpose.
“My name’s Gong Je-hyeon. LoC mid laner, Grandmaster. Your team’s recruiting a mid right now, yeah?”
He’d come to try out as their mid laner? Gyeo-wool tilted her head.
“That’s right. But are you sure you’re okay with it? Everyone else has been reluctant to join because of me.”
At that, Gong Je-hyeon casually sidled up beside her and slung an arm around her shoulders. No — her first impression hadn’t been wrong after all.
“Come on. A girl this pretty — and a Grandmaster at that — offering to play on the same team, and instead of being grateful they turn it down? Just ignore idiots like that.”
It was Han Yeo-reum who bristled at his careless behavior.
“Hey! Who said you could just throw your arm around our Gyeo-wool like that?!”
She yanked his arm off Gyeo-wool’s shoulder the way you’d tear a bag free and shoved him back.
“Whoops. Sorry. Force of habit.”
Cha Ga-eul eyed him and whispered to Gyeo-wool — already every inch the young coach fiercely protective of her players.
“This doesn’t look like a one- or two-time thing…. His hands seem to have a mind of their own.”
In terms of looks alone, Gong Je-hyeon was easily the handsomest of the potential teammates. Compared to Lee Do-jin, who was already good-looking by pro gamer standards, he edged slightly ahead. It was a different flavor from Yu Min-jae’s brand of masculine charm that reeled girls in. Wondering if that was why he treated women so freely, Gyeo-wool spoke up.
“Look, everything else is fine, but don’t put your hands on me whenever you feel like it. It creeps me out.”
“Mm. Sorry. I’ll apologize for that.”
Gyeo-wool held out her hand for a handshake.
“As long as you’re not planning to smother me with over-the-top kindness or make my life exhausting, I’ll take you. I don’t care either way, but the rest of our teammates will be uncomfortable.”
Choi Do-yun and Yu Min-jae had gathered for one reason only: the tournament and success. If Gong Je-hyeon kept up this attitude in front of them, it wouldn’t do the team any good.
“Mm… yeah, that might be a problem?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to join this team because of you.”
Gyeo-wool let out a sigh and muttered,
“Don’t tell me… you’re not about to say you want to date me using the team tryout as an excuse, or something like that?”
Gong Je-hyeon clasped her hand in a firm handshake and answered,
“What are you talking about. Girl friends are more than welcome, but girlfriend? Hard pass, even looking like this.”
Gyeo-wool’s expression twisted slightly. First impressions really didn’t lie. This guy was Twisted Fate incarnate — the type who charmed girls with his looks alone but never let things get deep, always chasing some grander goal.
“Be my friend and I’ll join. Being friends doesn’t mean I’m asking for anything crazy. We go to PC cafés together, karaoke, the movies…”
No. He was just a weirdo with a broken sense of normal. A headache blooming, Gyeo-wool pressed her temple with the tip of her left hand. Han Yeo-reum, who’d been listening, muttered in disgust, and Cha Ga-eul fired right back.
“…Isn’t that just a girlfriend?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Apparently, to Gong Je-hyeon, “girlfriend” was a word that specifically implied sleeping together. Looking thoroughly done, Gyeo-wool yanked her hand free of his grip.
“Forget it. I’ll find another mid. Good luck.”
She clicked her tongue and started walking. Gong Je-hyeon scrambled to cut her off again.
“Wh— hey! Wait.”
“Move.”
“Ah. Just hold on. I wasn’t done talking.”
“Talking about what. You just finished.”
Somewhat rattled by Gyeo-wool’s high-handed tone, Gong Je-hyeon hesitated before speaking.
“Make a bet with me.”
“…What kind of bet?”
“You. You used to be a mid laner, right?”
So he knew that. The interest in Gong Je-hyeon that had been fading from Gyeo-wool’s mind began to recover.
“You know my old play, then.”
Technically it had been Hon Gyeo-wool’s play — but he knew it. He was clearly a longtime subscriber of the Devil Maiden channel, and that changed things. It meant he hadn’t come here on a whim; deciding to join the team and showing up in person hadn’t been a light decision.
“Yeah. One-v-one me in mid.”
“…Do we have to? Pass. I barely have enough time to practice top lane as it is.”
“Ah, so just— let me talk!”
Lead with the important part first, you idiot. Gyeo-wool growled irritably.
“So why should I. Make me an offer worth taking.”
She’d only widened her eyes a fraction, but for a split second Gong Je-hyeon saw the devil lurking behind her expression. Startled, he flinched half a step back.
“I— if we one-v-one and you win. I’ll join your team unconditionally. No friends, none of that stuff.”
Now that was a somewhat tempting offer. Gyeo-wool asked him,
“Got any footage I can check your skill with?”
“Obviously. Here, watch this.”
He rummaged through his pocket and pulled up a video he’d clearly had ready. It was already halfway through playback — he’d approached her intending this from the start. He really had been seriously considering team activity.
Gyeo-wool dragged the scrubber back to the beginning and slowly took in Gong Je-hyeon’s skill.
Aggressive… a stomp-you-into-the-ground style.
It was the kind of aggressive play that recalled Lee Do-jin’s debut season. She could even feel a similar color to her own unfinished Platinum-tier self. He ignored matchups entirely, crushed lane phase until the opponent was trapped under tower, then expanded his mid-lane influence across the entire map to dictate the game. From mid-game onward, his style was growth-fueled proactive fight-seeking and stacking small advantages through skirmishes. There were the occasional mistakes and openings you’d expect from an amateur — but even the current Gyeo-wool made mistakes at that level. Objectively speaking, his skill sat slightly above where she was now.
Recruiting him wouldn’t be a loss in the slightest.
Having talent like this walk up of his own accord was something to welcome — but she couldn’t shake the feeling she might not beat him in a one-v-one. Gyeo-wool double-checked for any hidden poison clauses.
“…A man doesn’t go back on his word, right?”
Gong Je-hyeon grinned.
“If you lose the one-v-one, you go on one date with me. How about it?”
Of course. Gyeo-wool sighed softly and asked again. Behind her, an enraged Han Yeo-reum was thrashing both arms while Cha Ga-eul held her back.
“Rematches allowed?”
“Of course. Though you’ll owe me a date every time you lose.”
Unlimited attempts, then. No reason to hesitate. Who knew when another teammate this well-disposed toward her — and with this much potential — would show up again.
“Best of three?”
“Yep.”
“Fine. I’ll take that bet.”
“Okay. Wanna go right now? I’m free whenever.”
“Let’s go. There’s a PC café nearby.”
On the way there she glanced at Gong Je-hyeon — he was already humming under his breath, victory all but assured in his mind. But even Gyeo-wool, who objectively rated herself the underdog, wasn’t particularly worried about losing. Even if a date happened, Gong Je-hyeon would end up treated like her slave.
More than anything, she had no intention of losing. In the play footage he’d shown her, the answer to beating Gong Je-hyeon was already there.