Chapter 84
Chapter 84
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 84
Chapter Title: Frontline (2) (NSFW Warning!)
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*Warning! Contains slightly naughty illustrations! Watch your back!*
My older sister was looking at me.
Not the vibrant sister I remembered, but with a face that carried a faint air of decadence.
Seeing her gazing languidly at the screen, a hazy drunkenness pierced through my mind, bringing back memories from the time we first locked eyes all those years ago.
"Lately, she's been called something like 'Emperor' or whatever."
Oh yeah. That's right.
I've been living such a packed life lately that it slipped my mind until now.
I really should have searched her name online at least once.
"What? What were you guys talking about?"
Right then, Myth returned from the bathroom and pressed right up against me in that perfectly pleasant way.
She glanced at my phone and froze solid.
She must have instantly figured out what they were discussing.
Myth, who had been fidgeting while staring at my phone screen, stood up immediately after sitting down.
"Seol-ah. Wanna hit the convenience store?"
It was an obvious invitation with an agenda.
I nodded without hesitation. It seemed like she wanted to tell me something about my sister.
Myth wandered around asking the staff what drinks they wanted, then grabbed my hand and led me out of the venue.
The spring night streets were warmer than I'd expected.
As we walked silently toward the store, I spoke first.
"What happened to my sister?"
"In Hyungnim's case..."
Myth naturally started with "Hyungnim."
Were they already at the marriage stage? Or do people call their boyfriend's sister that too? Seeing how I still didn't know stuff like this made me feel like a total kid.
Myth hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully, then spoke a bit timidly.
"She's completely cut off all contact."
"She's a pro gamer. How's that even possible?"
The question came naturally. Pro gamers perform on big stages—how could she be totally unreachable?
Myth answered my doubt.
Her expression looked a little bitter, as if she wasn't sure how to break the news to me.
"To be precise, Sister Jeonseon is rejecting all communication from her side."
To a pathological degree.
Even calls from Dad and Mom.
"How's Jeonseon's condition?"
"...Not good. The psych eval shows she's in an extremely dangerous state. Honestly, she needs medication and regular psychiatric treatment right away."
Auditory hallucinations, visual hallucinations, severe depression, and an almost obsessive rejection of all external information.
Olivier pressed her forehead at the team doctor's diagnosis.
Of course it was bad.
For seven years, without tournaments, she hadn't stepped foot outside her room once. How could that be normal?
No one had ever seen her take a walk in those seven years.
She spent her days holed up on the top floor, only emerging for tournaments before rushing straight back to her room without any outside activities whatsoever.
Everything was handled in-house, so she didn't even need a phone—a total lunatic.
That was Jeonseon.
"She at least shows up for matches during the season, but this is the off-season."
Highwatch's European league had just wrapped up its spring season and entered the off-season ahead of the upcoming summer world championships.
"...Haa. What a headache."
Olivier, the exclusive manager for Frontline—the Emperor of Highwatch—let out a deep sigh.
'She was such a lively, bright girl right up until the contract was almost signed.'
She went back to her homeland for a bit, came back with dead eyes, and started throwing out weird conditions.
Olivier hated all of this.
Jeonseon, obsessed with the game to the point of cutting off the world, or the agency that knew about her instability yet left her alone to squeeze every drop out of her.
None of it sat right with her.
Olivier asked the cleaner in charge of Jeonseon's living area.
"Is she eating?"
"Yes. At least three meals a day, without fail."
"...She's not piling it up in her room and dumping it later like last time, right? We smelled the rot before, but if she's hiding it better now, that's dangerous."
"The nutritionist and team doctor check on her face-to-face regularly, so it should be fine. Though, um, she has gotten a lot thinner."
"Fine my ass. Lying in bed for a week straight, only gaming—no way that's okay. I can't let this slide. I'll drag her out for exercise today if I have to."
Olivier stood and headed to the top floor of the company building.
It wasn't originally meant for living, but at the whim of one absolute star, they cleared out the president's office, conference rooms, and exec suites to convert it into her residence.
The top floor, inaccessible without a special keycard.
"I hate coming up here every time."
Arriving at the top floor, a truly luxurious space greeted her.
Gym, private cafe, ten computers for one person, rec room, spa, library, and more.
A palace fit for an emperor.
But with such vast space used by just one person—who never even left her room—it felt more eerie than beautiful.
"Hoo."
Standing before one door, Olivier steadied her breath.
She had to be extremely careful from here. Even after seven years together, their relationship was broad but not deep.
Olivier knew nothing about Jeonseon, and Jeonseon knew nothing about Olivier.
Just a gamer who played, and a manager who handled her.
A purely business arrangement.
"Jeonseon."
Jeonseon's absolute rules. Number one:
Never knock when calling her in her room.
She hears everything anyway with her sharp ears. No answer means she's asleep—unless it's level 3 priority, just leave.
For reference, level 3 was only for tournament-day oversleeping or natural disasters.
A rustle came from inside, followed by a woman's voice.
- "Mm... Olivier? What brings you here at this hour?"
A lazy, utterly unmotivated voice drifted from the room.
Gloomy, sticky darkness without a trace of life.
Olivier swallowed and replied.
"You've been holed up in there a week. Come out. Let's exercise."
- "Mm... No thanks. Not in the mood today."
"Jeonseon. In seven years, when have you ever wanted to exercise?"
- "Never once. So isn't that reason enough for you to leave?"
"Every time we have this back-and-forth, you end up coming out to exercise. Seven years of experience should tell you this is pointless."
- "...True enough. Guess I have no choice."
The door opened, and out stepped a girl with jet-black hair cascading to her waist.
Olivier immediately looked away.
Jeonseon's absolute rules. Number two:
Never look inside her room.
Whether she liked the gesture or not, Jeonseon chuckled and patted Olivier's back.
"You can turn away. That's why I like you, Olivier."
"It's why I've been your manager for seven years."
"Agreed. Always grateful."
Jeonseon giggled and led the way.
...How could hair untouched for a week sway so beautifully?
Olivier was dying to ask her hair care secret.
Not that she'd get a straight answer.
Last time she asked, Jeonseon said it was loving brushing from her little brother—but who else was in that room?
"Someone like you could handle a higher position. Isn't it a waste being tied to me?"
"If you hadn't driven off every new manager with your tests, making them cry."
"Heh. Fair point."
In truth, Olivier had been pulled for other duties a few times, but always forced back to this role.
No replacement manager lasted two months against Jeonseon.
'Whatever. The pay's great, so no complaints.'
As someone earning near-head-coach salary for handling Jeonseon, it was a good deal.
Jeonseon strolled gracefully through the floor.
They arrived at the gym. Jeonseon grinned and wandered around.
"What should we do today? Treadmill? Stability ball? Hehe, dumbbell curls sound good. Oh, might be risky with my current stamina. How about the bike?"
Jeonseon touched each machine, eyes sparkling with feigned interest as she tapped them.
That expression.
Olivier hated it.
The forced mask over total disinterest.
Like seeing someone in ill-fitting clothes—watching Jeonseon felt the same twinge.
Didn't wearing a mask her whole life get exhausting?
Of course, she couldn't ask.
It was Jeonseon's third condition.
'Damn conditions.'
Olivier clicked her tongue inwardly.
All those conditions from seven years ago boiled down to one thing:
'Don't mess with me.'
She'd do tournaments and ads.
But nothing else. Leave her be in this world.
Olivier had no idea what happened to make her this way.
Only that Jeonseon desperately longed for something.
"Ah, feels good to move after so long."
Huff, huff.
After just thirty minutes on the bike—not even pedaling fast—Jeonseon dismounted, sweat pouring like a waterfall.
"Ugh, so sticky."
Done with her workout, Jeonseon peeled off her damp top, tossed it in a corner, and grabbed a towel to wipe down.
Her ribs showed through her gaunt frame, plain underwear fully exposed, but she didn't care.
Even in an all-women space, it'd be nice if she'd cover up—but expecting consideration from her was hopeless.
Madness gleamed faintly in her eyes; she was truly insane.
"Exercise done, so I'll head down now? I need a bath."
"Not until I see you go in."
"Oh? Don't you trust me? Even I'd not hug Seol-i covered in sweat."
Seol-i?
First time Olivier heard that word.
Jeonseon covered her mouth with an "Oops," then flashed a sensual smile.
"Pretend you didn't hear that."
"...Seol?"
Shh.
Jeonseon had closed in, pressing a finger to Olivier's lips.
Her eyes burned for the first time.
Fierce rage that made Olivier's legs tremble—even on the world finals stage, she'd stayed calm.
"Olivier. Didn't expect this from you. First warning."
Warning.
Jeonseon's rule for managers: three chances.
Hit three, and the company chooses: fire the manager or her. Always the former so far.
Olivier nodded, breaking into cold sweat.
Jeonseon looked down, smirked, stroked her cheek, and whispered in her ear.
"Don't worry about me too much, Olivier. I bring you victories, you keep my conditions and guarantee my life. That's our deal."
"...Since I got a warning anyway, can I say one more thing?"
"Sure."
The years weren't meaningless, it seemed.
Jeonseon nodded readily.
"Keep going like this, and you'll die soon."
Locked daily in this flashy prison, earbuds and blindfold even at tournaments to block the world.
Enter venue, compete, skip interviews citing mental issues, back to company car and building.
Not a normal life. Not even human.
Just a cog, a soulless beast—a ghost.
"...Yeah?"
Jeonseon tilted her head.
Then, chillingly bright laughter bubbled up.
Kyululul. Kyululul.
Too happy for someone facing death.
"Whatever."
With that, Jeonseon waved and headed to the baths.
Her confident stride looked ready to collapse any moment.
...Seol.
Olivier mulled over that one word, watching her precarious back.