Chapter 4
Chapter 4
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 4
Chapter Title: Is This For Real?
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A moderately deep river, a mountain one could cross.
This was one of the nicknames I earned after abruptly taking over as ST's mid laner in Proud's wake.
Plenty of people used the phrase to tease me, but put conversely, no matter what, I was a mountain and a river.
I was absolutely...
Not a player anyone could just lightly hop over.
"'LOC World Cup mid laner with two or more wins.'"
Even among players holding that title, fewer than five had ever emerged before the game's lifespan ran out—and I was one of them.
"So, what's your tier now?"
But to my friends, my pro declaration just seemed like a typical detour from studying.
"It's only been a day since I started ranked games?"
"Yeah. So?"
"...Still Silver."
"Eun-chan, what's your Rock tier?"
"Silver too."
"......"
It was utterly deplorable that I had to endure this kind of humiliation.
Not like I'd been stuck there a year—no, not even a full week. After queuing 5-man at the PC bang, I'd spent days groaning with muscle pain at home and only just recovered today.
Three days in, and I hadn't even hit three games yet, but my skill sure as hell hadn't vanished.
Just look at how the boys were staring at me. Nothing like gawking at something pretty.
More like the gaze reserved for an object of envy.
I knew it well from all the fans back in my pro days.
Though amid the girls' group, I was just a plush doll with satisfying handfeel.
"Anyway, gotta build stamina before going pro."
"How's our frail little Eun-seol supposed to work out?"
My friends kneaded me like a literal doll.
The tragic part? All I could feel in those sensations were faint traces of muscle.
Try strapping on a VR device and grinding Rock all day in this state? Forget school—I might not even make it out of my room.
And knowing that full well, I'd already hatched a plan amid the past few days of soreness.
"Skipping school wouldn't be basically like dropping out?"
Of course, I wasn't ditching classes right away.
Can't worry Mom and Dad.
At minimum, until I could prove my declaration wasn't some joke.
And objectively show I had talent—maybe then I could broach the topic.
Well, it wouldn't take long.
I had a plan.
"There she goes, grinning to herself again."
"Our Eun-seol could live off her looks alone, but she latches onto the weirdest crap..."
"Who could stop her?"
"Just let her be. Remember when she said she wanted to meet pros, became a streamer, then quit after not even a month?"
Hold up.
"I streamed too?"
"Wow, Hong Eun-seol acting like she never did."
"You begged us to watch, then went ghost and quit."
No wonder they knew Rock inside out—they must've picked it up viewer-sharing my old stuff.
Hong Eun-seol... was deeply moved by her friends' loyalty...!
"See? Sits there quiet, and boom—photo shoot material."
"Give up, Yeon-sol. No matter what, she skips idol auditions."
"Done for since she ditched idol ticketing for Rock."
"The industry loses another star...!"
Anyway.
Great players' standard education was high school dropout—but I'd set a new record.
...High score or low, let's not dwell.
The memory of that first first-person session at the PC bang was still fresh.
First time around, so yeah, some rough edges—pros probably moved a hair faster, as expected.
But ranked opponents aren't pros.
Especially from my current rank up to at least Master—no need for VR just to do first-person.
Rock being way huger than my past life meant videos galore, solidifying my call.
Pro first-person clips? Reaction speeds felt slower than guessed—hard to measure precisely. Later issue, once tier climbed or I clashed with them blade-to-blade.
Right now? Ranked itself mattered.
Gotta climb tiers to breathe easy.
Parent promise aside, zero interest practicing low tiers.
Tiered first-person reaction averages and vids showed: adapt VR by slamming highest tiers possible.
Higher immersion meant low-tier scrubs could ingrain garbage habits—fatal.
Anyway, LOC I knew—but in-game first-person? Plenty unknown.
To skyrocket tiers, home arrival: bag yeeted, PC fired up.
Pre-LOC launch: one familiar icon.
Streaming program shortcut, staring me down.
Might as well fire up a stream.
Pros thrive on skill and spectacle.
For pre-trainee nobodies like me? Scout bait was streaming, hands down.
Past life: grinded tiers sans 3-month clock, ST academy to debut. This round? Flash needed.
Parent convincing + all eyes on me = debut shortcut.
Especially targeting not Proud's 1st-division throne, but Grand League—2nd division—mid slot.
ST's highest-turnover spot.
Proud's godhood locked 1st team—talent overflowed to rivals' mains, constant shuffle filling gaps.
Grab and hold? Piece of cake. But the climb? Obstacle course.
So: hype machine activate.
No league hates buzz.
Interest-starved Grand League? Thirstiest of all.
Plus urgency fuel.
...Again this time.
Proud's injury cursed his genius, haunting across worlds.
Nerve miswiring or whatever—wrist hyper-reacting to device shocks mid-game, major daily hassle. Articles already piled up.
Game bodiless via gear? Still, nerve zaps bleed in-game.
Pre-pro, pure fan: wished he'd play unscathed. But whatever hurled me back as a girl? No mercy there.
World tracks same timeline, bar my gender swap.
One change: plenty.
Me.
Second debut match? Never.
Never lose.
Simple title, no trace of past streams on the low-key channel—yet viewers swarmed like moths to flame.
Habitual chat-spammers froze at the notepad memo in screen corner: 'Middle schooler.'
Sudden choir of model citizens.
Hooked by looks, then winrate—prime dinner theater.
Then: someone clocked the oddity.
Skipping features? Self-handcuffing. Nontarget dodges, pinpoint control? First-person fights standard.
Screen girl? Zero Fs—kb/m solo'd enemy squad.
Teamfight dust settled.
"What? Why so many people?"
Middle-school cute voice popped out.
Chaos reigned, but Eun-seol nailed the key Qs.
"Yep. Chall bound, kb/m confirmed."
Clip birth to gallery viral: blink of an eye.