Struggle (5)

Ho-eun, the permanent caster for the Infinity Black League.

His after-work routine was checking the popular posts on the gaming community boards.

It wasn't because the communities themselves were particularly entertaining. He had become a middle-aged man by now, and there were all sorts of complications that came with trying to mingle among the younger crowd.

But if he wanted to keep a finger on the pulse of the fanbase, he had to make a conscious effort to tour the boards regularly.

He didn't need to read every single post. Just the ones that mattered for the pro scene — or the ones generating an unusually big reaction.

Once the community rounds were done, next came the streaming world and video platforms. In particular, it paid to at least skim the highlights of any broadcasts the pro players themselves were running. If something noteworthy had happened, even a casual mention on air would draw a solid response.

The official broadcast might look like it digs its heels in a lot, but the truth is, we watch the fans like hawks.

In this era, you had to treat your fans the way you treated a boss at work if you wanted to survive!

Ho-eun's personal theory was that anyone in the eSports scene who got too close to the fans never lasted long. But he also believed that putting too much distance between yourself and them was just as dangerous.

Which meant you couldn't afford to be completely clueless about the communities. You had to know which sensitive issues to avoid mentioning. And you had to catch the issues worth capitalizing on before it was too late.

Even if you put on every air of refinement in front of the fans, underneath the surface you could never stop thrashing.

And if you kept swimming like that long enough, a current would naturally come into view. More precisely — you would find the thing that was generating the current.

Gawol.

The flame that had been lit in the Arena and had not gone out for even a single moment since. Official broadcasts almost never mentioned the name — but it was one he absolutely had to know by now.

In Ho-eun's case, he had enough personal interest that he had even gone looking up evaluations from before the Arena. Compared to a past that had bordered on mystique, Gawol had been showing up with markedly greater frequency of late. And the image from the Arena remained vivid enough that—

Brrring, brrring!

Who on earth was calling at this hour?

His brow naturally furrowed, but he was a thoroughly seasoned office worker. The carefully manufactured kindness in his voice didn't waver in the slightest.

That didn't mean he had to like what he was hearing, though. With the league ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠semifinals barely a week away, it was hard to take a last-minute guest commentator swap as good news.

He had taken the call after work, so the first emotion had been irritation. That had quickly given way to bewilderment — and then, just as quickly, to genuine interest.

A hot breath burst from my lips.

"One more, okay? Just one more!"

"Ugh… aaagh…!"

A sharp pull seized my lower abdomen. Heat surged through my entire body, then lost its way and swirled aimlessly inside me. I clenched my core with everything I had.

"A little more, a little more, just a little more!"

"Nngh— hhhuh!"

"You're doing so well! Just one more!"

Something was off. It felt like this "one more" was never going to end.

I shot my trainer a look of pure resentment. All I got back was a bright, cheerful smile.

"Really the last one this time, okay? You can do it!"

"Hhhnnngh—!"

She had seemed like such a kind person at first glance. As if to prove you should never trust a woman's kindness, she had a terrifying demon hidden underneath. For the full sixty minutes of the session, she worked me without a shred of mercy.

"Okay, really the last—"

"I can't! I really can't anymore!"

"Alright, then that's it for today!"

"Haaah…"

My body finally hit its limit and collapsed flat on the floor. My breath came in heaving gasps from the aftermath of the ab work, my chest swelling and shrinking with every inhale and exhale. Sweat poured down my back like rain. No — most of my body was soaked, the leggings clinging wet against my skin. The slightly sticky feeling was a little gross.

I had tried not to wear these precisely because I hated how they stuck. But then I'd been told that loose clothes could chafe and damage the skin, and that had been my undoing. Add the argument that form-fitting gear made it easier to check my range of motion, and I hadn't stood a chance.

At least I only ever worked out at Sigma's private gym. There weren't enough people around to make me self-conscious.

"Great work today. See you next Monday!"

"Yeah…"

"And don't forget to send me photos of what you're eating."

"I know, I know."

After the trainer left with that good-natured smile of hers, I stayed sprawled on the floor for a long while, catching my breath.

I was willing to give credit where it was due. As a woman's body, this one was flawless. Hair, skin, face — there wasn't a single feature that wouldn't draw envy. And on top of that, I had a secret I could never tell anyone else.

Not a single hair grew on this body — not under the arms, not between the legs, not on the limbs. As if that sort of thing simply didn't belong in the perfection this body pursued, there was only soft, smooth skin.

And the fact that it had endured the wreck of a lifestyle I'd put it through? That was something else entirely. This body had weathered a shut-in existence that would have made even pro players recoil. If not for the ruined left leg, calling it a blessed physique would have been no exaggeration.

There was just one problem.

"The muscle just won't stick…"

It wasn't that the workouts were producing no results at all. Ever since I'd started training with Sigma's support, my body had clearly been moving in a better direction. Whether it was stamina or anything else, there was life flowing through me again.

The issue was more about the direction of it. Rather than packing on muscle, I just kept getting more… feminine. My body, soft and yielding no matter where you pressed, showed no intention of changing. I hadn't been hoping for bulging muscles or anything, but I hadn't expected it to be quite this stubborn either.

Well. I'd started exercising for my health. Maybe it was better not to overthink it.

Once my breathing had settled, I was idly scrolling through my phone when—

"Hss."

This time ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it was just spam, right? Ever since receiving that mail about the access device, any email from the game company made me flinch on instinct. It took a considerable amount of mental preparation just to open it.

Unfortunately, it was not a simple advertisement. It also wasn't the security team following up with anything new, either.

Something a little unexpected had landed in my inbox.

In times like these, my choice was…

Help me, Luche.

"I think it should be fine? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠If anything, unless there's a special reason not to, I think you should go."

"R-really?"

"Yeah. It's a good opportunity for you too, Daeun. No reason to turn it down."

Across the table, Luche chewed on her salad. Mine was a little different from hers, but we were both eating greenery all the same. Maybe my tastes had changed, because this kind of food actually sat pretty well with me now.

"I know what you're worried about. But just because people work at the same company doesn't mean they all think the same way. The security team's interests and the league operations team's interests can be completely different."

"Even though it's the same company?"

"Every team has its own goals. The league ops team is probably desperately hoping you'll play the game."

Was that even possible? I had assumed that being at the same company meant they were all in cahoots. Maybe that was just a misconception from never having held a real job.

Well — if Luche said so, I could trust it. She was bound to be far more accurate than my prejudices.

"Alright, then I'll accept. Thanks. For hearing me out."

"Don't mention it. I'm the one who talked you into coming this far — of course I'd help. Oh, but one more thing real quick."

I had been about to get up, the food mostly finished, when Luche stopped me for a moment.

"I know you're already working hard, but I'd like to speed up your recruitment a little."

"Did something happen?"

"There's talk that foreign imports will open up starting from the Summer League. Until now the general mood has been to avoid them, but something's come up that's lit a fire under people's feet."

"Hmm… well, that works for me."

"Thanks."

Who was thanking whom here, exactly?

Whatever it was, it was good news for me. Even a little sooner. Even an hour sooner — I wanted to get back into the game.

The pro scene stage, one I would stand on with my own two feet — it was bound to be beautiful beyond measure.

A few days later, I set foot in the official pro league studio.