Chapter 9
Chapter 9
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: New Spark
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It had already been three days since my account was suspended due to the game company's tyranny, which refused to acknowledge self-defense.
"Why haven't you been streaming lately?"
I'd resolved to mute everything and climb the ranks once I got home, but right after school, Ji-hwan suddenly struck up a conversation.
"Wait, were you watching my stream?"
I'd thought he had zero interest in internet broadcasts and only played Rock, so it was surprising that he'd been tuning into mine.
"Sometimes before queuing up. You're good."
He nodded along as he asked again why I'd stopped streaming lately.
"...Suspended for inappropriate language? What on earth did you say?"
"The support in mid was stealing my exp, so I couldn't hold back."
"Ah."
It wasn't just casual stealing, either—they'd colluded with the enemy player to drag me into the pit of defeat.
I'd clawed my way back up and gotten my revenge, so at least that was a relief.
Meanwhile, he nodded at my explanation and accepted it without hesitation.
Fellow mid laners just get each other.
"Oh, right. I'm not a mid laner anymore."
"......What?"
I nearly dropped the phone in my hand.
"No way, for real? Why?"
As I kept pressing him, he silently pulled up his match history on the record site and showed it to me.
And in that history, aside from the games where he'd played support as a sub-position, he'd been playing top in every single one.
'Did what I said really have that big an impact?'
Plook—Jung Ji-hwan—had taken plenty of flak for being "championship-less," but that was precisely because he had the talent to win the LOC World Cup yet fell short.
Players who were outright hopeless didn't even get that kind of criticism—there were no expectations to begin with.
In that sense, the fact that Plook, who had been counted among the absolute top mid laners right up until the end of the LOC era, had suddenly abandoned the mid lane came as a shock to me.
"Why are you so surprised? You said it yourself—if I joined ST as a top laner, you'd win me the LOC World Cup."
"But you signed a trainee contract with Milky Way."
"I told them I wanted to switch to top, and the coach said to think it over, but when I asked ST, they welcomed me with open arms, so I just switched."
Come to think of it, it wasn't a pro contract—just a middle school trainee deal. There was no way it'd have any convoluted clauses benefiting the team.
A few paperwork transfers, and it would've been easy.
"You thought it through enough?"
"Every time I queued, I saw you playing, and I realized I could never be like that."
Maybe one of the major threads in the future I remembered had just been altered.
"Well, no need to feel too bad. It surprisingly suits me."
Something seemed off about the tier emblem at the top of the record site.
"...You don't mean."
"I hit Challenger on top."
He'd been deliberately holding back, grinning as he told me.
"When?"
"Yesterday."
While I was out on troll dates in Twisted Canyon for my Diamond climb, he'd switched positions and still reached Challenger.
He'd actually done it faster than in the original timeline.
Of course, hitting Challenger in middle school didn't guarantee pro success, but plenty of successful pros had started shining from middle school onward.
Which meant he'd made a strong impression on the coaches right after switching teams and positions.
"You're doing well there. I'll be joining soon."
"Since I got to ST first, treat me like a senior when you join the academy later."
"What are you talking about."
I'd eaten more meals there than this guy could count by dozens of times over.
"By tenure, only Proud ranks above me. Everyone else is below."
From Proud's retirement all the way to LOC's downfall.
I'd always been ST's mid laner.
Sure, the surrounding players sometimes got flushed out all at once, but I was always there in that role.
"...So, except for Proud, you're saying you're the best?"
Of course, he seemed to interpret that as confidence in a slightly different sense.
Well, it wasn't wrong, so I'd let it slide.
More than that.
I had the confidence to make it true.
Ten minutes left until the ranked game restriction lifted, so I turned on my stream.
"Long time no see."
Even after just three days, viewers flooded in.
I neatly addressed their questions with a single ranked game restriction notice.
Of course, aspiring pros would prefer zero controversy, but this was well within my control.
For one, it was crystal clear that I was the victim. More importantly, age wasn't just for show.
Being a middle schooler provided a massive shield for someone like me—a mere streamer, not even an official player yet.
On top of that, although unintended, the patch notes right after my incident expanded the scope of trolling penalties and extended ban durations. Public opinion was in my favor, not just among my viewers.
"Yeah. Anyway, I ended up taking an unplanned vacation and messing around in normal games on my smurf."
Thanks to that, I'd exercised nonstop during my free time.
It was still tough, but compared to the first week, it was manageable.
"Alright, now that the restriction's lifted, shall we get into some games?"
With some casual chit-chat out of the way, I kicked off the proper Rock stream.
"I hit Diamond last time, right? Now there's only one broadcast goal."
I slapped it big and bold into my memo pad, which doubled as announcements.
"So I'll skip the minor missions like Diamond to Master or Grandmaster."
No sooner had I finished speaking than a mission popped up.
[Reach Challenger before season end]
1,000,000 KRW
I deliberately stayed quiet for a moment, and the chat erupted into chaos.
The chat split between those doubting my skill and those offering unconditional faith—proof that plenty still harbored skepticism about my abilities.
And turning that anxiety and doubt into cheers? That was my job.
"What are you watching?"
As Ji-hwan watched Eun-seol's solo queue over a late dinner, the academy coach appeared.
"Just a friend's stream."
"The one who told you to play top instead of mid?"
"Yeah."
"A girl?"
The coach peered curiously and watched for a bit.
'...For a girl, no—straight-up amazing.'
Even in that short glimpse: lane matchup details, preemptively pinging before the enemy jungler rushed into Twisted Forest to farm monsters for a level-up instead of minions.
If you ignored the cam showing her upper body and keyboard, you could swear it was a pro gamer's solo queue footage.
"Jae-hoon hyung."
Just as he'd gotten immersed, viewing the game from Eun-seol's perspective.
Proud was standing behind them.
"What're you watching so intently?"
He glanced at the screen, then flashed a mischievous grin—not his public coach-facing demeanor, but the one he saved for close bros.
"Should I tell your wife?"
"Hey, hey. She's a middle schooler. What nonsense. I was just watching the game exactly like you."
"...Like me?"
The coach was infamous for doling out cheesy praise even to pros, and brutal feedback to promising academy kids. Seeing him talk like this felt downright alien.
"What's the stream called?"
"Middle School Silver to Chal: Day 12."
"......"
Blunt as a brick.