A Fateful Meeting with Spring

Bae Jeong-woong, who was about to ship out for military service, received a special assignment and booked a flight to Taiwan without delay.

Jeong-woong, can you head over to Taiwan and talk things over with the Seoul Team players?

Sure, I can do that.

Good. I'm counting on you. I'll work on convincing the GM… looks like we need to sort out the dorm situation too.

Ah, right. If we're bringing Jin Gyeo-wool in…

It was a critical plan — get there first, make an impression, before any other team could snatch them up.

Kim Donggyun wore the grave expression of a man sending someone into a dangerous battlefield.

Go watch the tournament matches, rest at the hotel, enjoy yourself a bit. And check whether the Seoul Team players can keep their form overseas.

Yes, sir.

And, uh… whether it's Jin Gyeo-wool or any of the others, I don't care. Build as many connections as you can.

The sudden demand that Bae Jeong-woong get friendly with the players had come because General Manager Ju Yeongsik had flatly declared they couldn't offer these athletes high salaries.

A one-year contract with raises based on performance was on the table, but paying anyone except Jin Gyeo-wool an eight-figure salary from year one was simply impossible.

Do-jin swore he'd drag Gyeo-wool onto our team no matter what. The problem is the other players. No matter how good Jin Gyeo-wool is, the core of that team is all five of them.

…True. Though from what I've heard, they turned down other teams' offers because of Jin Gyeo-wool.

That may be, but people get sensitive when money's involved. Imagine we offer eighty million and another team suddenly throws out a hundred and fifty. You think their eyes won't light up?

Fair point.

And so Bae Jeong-woong became the vital special envoy linking Hyeonseong to the Seoul Team, and set off for Incheon International Airport.

Is Hyeonseong Academy just weak?

Or is the Seoul Team actually cracked?

[194 total comments]

Rumors began circulating that the Seoul Team had scrimmed Hyeonseong Academy and won.

That was the moment every team's front office — which until then had shown only mild interest — suddenly changed its tune.

Academy or not, the fact remained: they had beaten Hyeonseong.

Put another way, from now on, even if a team sent out its academy players and got crushed by the Seoul Team in scrims, the backlash would be a lot softer.

Of course, for teams that had finished above Hyeonseong in the Summer Split, it was a different story. But for the ones ranked below them — and for the CCKC squads — it was a rather tempting proposition.

The news naturally reached the ears of Falcon's top laner, Jang Jae-hong.

"Interesting…"

Unable to get his hands on any scrim footage, he went looking through Jin Gyeo-wool's personal streaming channel instead.

Using the remaining VODs, he studied her play, stroking his chin with genuine intrigue.

"She wasn't this good before. Weird."

Compared to the older clips, the leap in skill was unmistakable — a whole different tier.

Where she had once been a mindless beast charging in without a second thought, she now looked like a seasoned hunter: picking her prey with certainty, laying the perfect trap, and striking at the weak point.

Practice was an unavoidable part of a pro player's daily life, of course. But the stretch from late October through mid-November — the heart of the free agency window — was usually something close to a vacation for the players.

With time on his hands, he suddenly wanted to meet Jin Gyeo-wool in person, and he called his coach out of the blue.

"Coach, it's Jang Jae-hong."

"Mind if I hop over to Taiwan for a few days?"

"Yeah. It's vacation period anyway — I just stuck around the dorm because I couldn't be bothered. I can go, right?"

"Will do. I'll be back before the fifteenth."

The coach's voice stayed lukewarm from the first word to the last. Hardly surprising.

Falcon had a coach and a coaching staff, sure — but unfortunately, their reason for existing had grown rather thin.

They had originally brought Jang Jae-hong in as a solid top laner. By the time they came to their senses, he had half-devoured them.

Falcon now revolved entirely around Jang Jae-hong. Drafts, player acquisitions, in-game play — all of it.

Not everything he said became reality, but nobody wanted to push back against his opinions anymore.

Everything Jang Jae-hong proposed turned out right, while their own decisions always seemed to miss the mark.

"Looks like Hyeonseong is going to pick up the Seoul Team players… That'd be a problem. Hmm."

Right now, Jang Jae-hong found himself wanting to snatch one of the Seoul Team players for himself.

If Hyeonseong reinforced its roster and Lee Do-jin rediscovered his love for the game, it would throw a wrench into Jae-hong's plan — the plan to crush him in-game, bury him under relentless trash talk, and force him into retirement.

"Yeah. Better to tear things apart in advance."

He let out a low breath, opened a browser, and pulled up a flight booking site.

Before leaving for Taiwan, Jin Gyeo-wool burned the last of the incense candle.

Judging by what remained, once she woke up there would only be enough left for a single night's sleep.

As usual, she sat before the mirror, and Hon Gyeo-wool — drifting like cosmic dust — drifted into the glass's field of view.

Ah. You're here. Is it already the day you leave for Taiwan?

"Time seems to move a little slower on this side."

Hmm… I don't think that's really it. More like, because I never sleep, it just feels like time isn't passing?

So she was living through one dull day after another.

Gyeo-wool looked at her with a pained expression.

"Tell me everything you remember about where you bought the incense candle in Kaohsiung. I'll make time and search the whole area somehow."

It wouldn't be easy, she expected — but with even a single lead, she could find a way.

And if she still couldn't find it, Gyeo-wool was prepared to spend a few extra days hunting down wherever sold those candles.

She listened carefully as Hon Gyeo-wool described the place, jotting down every detail.

Once the notes were packed into her phone, Gyeo-wool spoke again.

"Also, I'm bringing a Polaroid camera."

Why?

"If I walk around the places you told me about and take pictures, something you recognize might turn up."

She had already run a similar experiment that very day. Gyeo-wool held up the map sitting beside her and asked,

"You can see this too, right?"

…Yeah. I can see it.

"I set it here before I lit the candle and went to sleep."

Oh. Aha.

Hon Gyeo-wool clapped her hands, finally understanding why the Polaroid was coming along.

"This might be the last candle, so I have to use it as purposefully as I can. I'll find a new one somehow."

…Yeah. Okay. Please do. Then I guess I'll see you in Taiwan.

"Probably. How's life over there? Don't you want to come back?"

For reasons she couldn't name, the warmth of emotion she usually felt from Hon Gyeo-wool seemed thinner than before.

I don't know. Even here, I can still feel the presence of the people I miss. Every time I see Do-jin oppa, it makes me feel better.

Did emotions just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wither away if you stayed locked in the mirror world long enough?

A flicker of unease made Gyeo-wool ask carefully,

"Even if I can't find the candle, there's still a way for us to talk, so don't worry."

Worst case, she could fill the activity gauge for Spring and Winter and use Touching Fates to pull Hon Gyeo-wool into the real world. In that state, Hon Gyeo-wool could leave messages in a notebook for her to read.

Oh, really?

At first Gyeo-wool had figured it was just exhaustion — that she simply wanted a short rest, and that was why she had no drive to return to her body.

That was what she had told herself.

Yeah, well. Don't push yourself too ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hard.

But that was not the reaction of someone whose will to live still burned bright.

It was hard to believe this was the same girl who had once grieved her friend's death so fiercely she had turned her malice on everyone around her.

Hon Gyeo-wool's voice trembled, so drained it sapped the strength of anyone who heard it.

"…Don't just sit around with no energy. You'll meet Bom again. And I'll make sure you get back into your own body."

Jin Gyeo-wool had been the reason her own drive to become a pro gamer again had surged back to life. And after learning that Lee Bom was dead, Hon Gyeo-wool had been the only person she could openly share even the buried history from her days as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Bae Do-hyun.

So Hon Gyeo-wool's listlessness kept weighing on her mind.

Without quite meaning to, she found herself wanting to look after her — and so she stayed in front of the mirror for a long while.

Whether Hon Gyeo-wool could read those feelings or not, she settled silently onto the floor, leaned against Gyeo-wool's shoulder, and closed her eyes.

It was much later that the dazed figure sitting there finally came to her senses.

"…Huh?"

She snapped her eyes open — and Hon Gyeo-wool was gone from the mirror.

She grabbed the phone blaring noisily beside her, and the information on the screen hit her like a truck.

The time was 9:00 a.m. — the exact hour they were supposed to meet at the airport.

"Oh, fuck."

November 6th.

The day the Seoul Team departed for Taiwan as the Republic of Korea's national representatives.

At Gate 3 of the Incheon International Airport departure hall, the one player who should have stood out the most was nowhere to be seen.

"Why isn't she picking up?"

"She's not answering?"

"What's going on with her?"

The meetup was set for nine, but just in case, Coach Chae Hojin had started calling every player from eight in the morning.

Every single one of them had answered — except one.

From eight to nine, Jin Gyeo-wool simply would not pick up the phone.

The flight was at noon, so arriving by eleven wouldn't have been a problem for boarding. But if she missed the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠plane and showed up late, everything would start unraveling before the tournament even began.

This wasn't a domestic event. It was overseas. What mattered for the players right now wasn't teamwork or checking their own form — it was adapting to the local environment.

That held true not just for this tournament, but for every international competition still to come.

Gyeo-wool, who he had fully expected to be the first one waiting, was late — and Chae Hojin was rattled.

The ringtone droned on for a long while. At last, Jin Gyeo-wool answered.

"Gyeo-wool! Why weren't you picking up?!"

At least she had gotten through around 9:10. The intermittent sound of tires on asphalt suggested she was already in a car on the way.

"Okay. So you're coming now?"

"Alright, that's a relief."

An hour and a half of buffer. That was enough to clear check-in and even wander the duty-free shops.

Chae Hojin let out a long breath of relief.

He was about to hang up when a sudden worry made him ask,

"You're not scared of flying or anything, are you?"

No matter how sharp a player Jin Gyeo-wool was, managing every little detail of her state of mind was still a coach's job.

Fresh off securing that scrim against Hyeonseong Academy, Chae Hojin's confidence was soaring — which was probably why he found the nerve to ask something so bold.

Maybe she was on her period? Was that why her voice sounded so hoarse? Uncharacteristically brave, he pressed on.

"Falling back asleep like that, and all… You're not feeling off, are you? Since this is your first flight, I packed motion sickness meds and a bunch of other stuff just in case."

There really were people who couldn't fly because of acrophobia or claustrophobia. Some who had no choice but to fly for work carried calming pills or motion sickness medicine everywhere they went.

Of course, it was a completely pointless worry — so the scolding that came back was entirely his to receive.

Two sentences. Absolutely devastating damage. As expected, a strong top laner never lost a 1v1 trade.

His HP instantly halved, Chae Hojin mumbled in a sulky voice,

"Yeah, okay… Sorry. Just get here soon."