TS and Win, or Stay a Titleless Ghost

The title alone sent a wave of unease crawling up my spine, but instinct had already taken the wheel. I tapped the post.

After a brief loading screen, a string of Legend of Legends — LOL for short — game clips filled the page.

Of course. A post roasting my plays from today's World Championship finals.

But I wasn't particularly angry.

They don't know a thing.

That first clip — dying in a bush with no vision — was a check I had no choice but to make. With our support and top already dead, shoving our Smite-holding jungler or our last-resort ADC into that bush made less sense than sending me, the one already sitting on a pile of deaths.

And the second clip. I'd gone in knowing full well I didn't have Zhonya's. The champion I was playing was Ahri — dive in with the ultimate, open the engage with Charm. In that situation, even if I died, locking down their ADC and trading my life was the correct play. A massive return if it landed.

How was I supposed to know they'd dodge it with movement like that.

I'd predicted the Flash and thrown the Charm so they couldn't react — and their ADC just slipped it like it was nothing. There was a time I'd been a prospect praised for my mechanics. Now I was feeling, hard, that players better than me had arrived.

"Haa…"

I flung my phone to the far side of the bed and collapsed onto my back.

They said they were going out for a team dinner, right.

Even on the day we'd lost the finals, every player and staff member except me had looked almost relieved. The opposing team had swept both league titles before the tournament even started and sat at number one in the power rankings. We were sixth out of ten in our league — barely scraping into the international stage. Practically every match on the way to the finals had been an underdog run. Making it that far was already a miracle, if you wanted to call it that.

So it was a fight we were always going to lose, is that it.

Even the betting odds I'd glimpsed on that post had us at seventeen-to-one. Seventeen times — money-printer territory. That was how little anyone expected us to win.

One of the comments from earlier still wouldn't leave my head.

Titleless. Honestly, for a pro player, it wasn't that bad a word. It was a label that stuck when you'd put up strong performances without ever taking a championship. Most pros vanished from memory without earning any nickname at all — so even a name like that was something to be grateful for, in theory.

And yet the bitterness wouldn't go away.

If I just hadn't wrecked my wrist.

If I'd had both the experience built across countless matches and the mechanics from before the injury — would the result have been different? The thought flickered and died. Getting those old mechanics back was impossible, and I knew it.

…Should I retire.

A pro gamer's career usually ran five to eight years. There were monsters like the player who'd beaten me in the finals today, still going strong past ten — but those were the exceptions. There was a time when the game had been my entire life, the reason I got up in the morning. The night I lost my first finals, I'd walked straight into the practice room and solo queued until dawn.

But after the tenth championship run fell apart, I could feel the fire starting to go out.

"…I'll think about it later."

Figuring I needed to clear my head, I grabbed my phone and started scrolling Shorts — and stumbled onto a strange video.

The match had only been over a few hours and someone had already cut a Shorts video. First time seeing the channel, but with that kind of dedication, they could roast me all they wanted.

Not a human voice — one of those trendy TTS dubs, breaking down the game. Whoever made it clearly sat at a high rank. They even caught the level-one bot-lane mind games and the top-side gank setup.

I'd expected another pile-on like every other community, but the video was actually defending me. Grateful, I watched it through to the end — and the last frame dropped a bizarre poll question.

para was my pro gamer tag, and TS was… that thing where your gender changes?

I hit "get TS'd and win" without a second of hesitation. Why wouldn't I? I'd have picked the TS option even if it didn't come with a championship.

You're telling me people wouldn't take this?

Anyone calling me crazy should look at that poll again. This wasn't just any TS. This was getting TS'd into a beautiful girl. And my mechanics get better on top of that?

There was nothing to lose.

Is this a glitch.

One second ago I'd been lying there after dropping the World Championship finals for my tenth straight runner-up finish, daydreaming about getting TS'd and winning a title.

Now there were nurses all around me. A woman in a hospital gown holding me. A man gazing down with eyes full of tenderness. And, most decisively — a mouth that had been producing nothing but crying sounds for a while now.

It's actually happening.

Apparently, I'd really gotten hit with a TS reincarnation.

Fifteen years had already passed since I'd been born a girl.

Living through it, I'd figured out the shape of things: I'd been sent back into the past. My family from my previous life was the same. My friends were the same. The only difference was that I was a girl now. I wasn't the type who enjoyed adapting to completely new environments, so that worked out fine. If anything, some relationships had gotten better after the change.

Cute again today.

I'd been thinking it for fifteen years straight, but I really had made the right call ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠taking that TS. I'd always figured my looks had been decent enough in my past life — being born a girl doubled the fun. Just staring at my own face was entertaining at this point.

Someone settled in behind me while I sat in front of the mirror.

"Sweetie~ Looking in the mirror again?"

I turned around to a familiar face. My mother — someone I hadn't seen much of in my previous life, but who'd grown especially close after I became a girl.

Genetics really are everything, huh.

Dad had been handsome before the hair loss set in, and Mom still got her number asked for whenever she went out alone. Naturally, my looks were already close to finished even at this age.

But that's not what matters.

Even born into this body, I hadn't forgotten my goal for a single moment.

Winning the LOL international championship.

And today was the first step.

"Mom. Here."

I pulled a sheet of paper from the bag beside me and held it out.

"Oh my! First place again?"

It was my final exam report card. Ranked first overall on the written finals, second overall on performance assessments — combined, first in the entire school.

"So buy me a computer this time."

If my parents in this life had a flaw, it was that they weren't big on games. Technically Dad liked them and Mom hated them, but when the household hierarchy put Mom at number one, what could you do? We'd gone ten years without a single computer in the house.

She did promise she'd buy one if I got first place again.

After relentless pestering, she'd agreed — first place on this exam, and I'd get a computer.

"Hmm… how about a new dress instead?"

"A computer."

"Or a piano? Didn't you say one of your friends was taking lessons?"

"Please buy me a computer."

"Fine, fine. But you're going ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shopping with Mom this weekend, deal?"

I understood where she was coming from. How many parents would cheerfully buy a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠computer for a fifteen-year-old girl who asked for one? But this time, I wasn't budging.

I'm fifteen right now.

My plan was to debut in the second division at sixteen at the latest — the minimum debut age. For that, I needed at least a year of solo queue to get my name out there. I'd already stress-tested my mechanics at PC cafés. All that was left was time to climb.

This break is two months.

Winter break started next week, stretched nearly two full months thanks to school construction. Factor maybe two weeks to hit level thirty on a fresh account, then grind the rest hard — Master was within reach.

Placement should land me around Gold or Platinum, right?

.

.

.

?

Is this a glitch…?