Gawol (2)
The convenience store clerk's eyes got on my nerves.
He took one look at my face, eyes going wide, then his gaze dropped to my chest and flooded with confusion.
Normally it lasted a second or two at most. This one stared straight through my chest for a full four seconds.
The eyes that had been fixed on the loose fabric of my clothes darted elsewhere, as if they'd never been there at all.
And now would come the climax.
Only at the very end did the convenience store clerk notice my crutches.
Along with that sticky, unpleasant pity.
This one seemed pretty introverted, so he'd probably say something like—
Um, do you need any help?
"Um, do you need any help?"
Nailed it.
I held back the bitter smile that tried to surface.
There were things I wanted to say, if I'd had my way.
Get lost. I may be a girl who can barely walk, but did you really think I'd need you holding my hand?
I don't want pity from the likes of you, so keep your eyes on the register before I dig them out of your skull.
But picking a fight with someone takes courage and energy.
I had neither, and my body was already exhausted from coming down the stairs.
So all I could do was force a smile.
A silver lining, at least.
Even this scrawny and thin, I was damnably pretty.
"Yes. Then I'm sorry, but could you ring up three mild cup ramen, and help me cook one of them as well?"
"You'll be eating here, right? Give me your card and have a seat over there. I'll boil it and bring it to you."
"Thank you. You're very kind."
I traded my pride for physical comfort.
No. I knew it wasn't really about pride at all.
The clerk was just unused to women, and I looked like I was struggling, so he was being kind.
The only twisted thing here was my personality.
He bagged two of the cup ramen and brought me one properly cooked.
I could feel his glances, conscious of me, but I decided not to care.
Things like that, I could forget while looking at my phone.
I plugged in the earphones I'd bought after much deliberation, and as always, headed for the gaming community.
It's when BoozeBread charges in with the shield…
The Infinity Black Gallery.
I wasn't the type to live exclusively on the gallery, but every so often, when I needed a change of pace—when my brain needed any kind of stimulation at all—I fired it up.
There wasn't any particularly grand reason.
The sunnier sites barely mentioned Gawol at all.
I'd killed so many streamers and pro gamers that I'd earned a mountain of hate from their fans.
Somewhere along the way my name had become a kind of forbidden word, so I only went looking when I needed information.
Infinity Black was currently in a kind of lull.
Next season, a patch bordering on a total upheaval had been announced. Because of that, no one knew how the siege meta would shake out.
Pro gamers who lived and died by ranked, and even the massive guilds, were holding their breath, careful not to make enemies carelessly.
Or rather, that was what everyone believed.
It wasn't actually true.
In a scene as thick with schemes as Infinity Black, there was no such thing as peace.
In Infinity Black, dying in the field locked you out for four hours—which meant falling behind in the endless farming race.
Kill someone quietly right now, and you took the lead in the competition.
In this game, the only person who could solo a named player and kill anyone without drawing suspicion was me.
So right now was when my market value was at its highest.
It was still a pittance compared to what you'd make streaming or going pro, of course.
The money I squeezed out of various guilds under the pretense of item farming was my entire source of income.
I froze.
The mouth that had been vacuuming up ramen stopped for a moment.
Coming into the community might have been a mistake after all.
One careless post, and my appetite vanished completely.
The second I saw that filthy photo, I should have shut the phone screen off.
I'd eaten enough. I'd just throw the rest away.
There wasn't much left anyway.
My stomach was full, so better to get back to the game.
Streaming, going pro… it wasn't that I didn't want to.
That path was one I simply couldn't walk.
The nickname Gawol.
In truth, it was a typo—I'd meant to type Sawol. April.
April was the time I'd lost everything.
From that day on, I couldn't walk any path at all.
Congratulations poured in from every direction.
My parents, quietly supporting me from behind. My master, firmly guiding me forward.
Messages flooded in until my phone wouldn't stop buzzing.
Today was supposed to be a happy day.
And yet my mood wouldn't settle.
"Daehun. You see the article? Coach Kim's apparently got huge expectations for you this time."
"Yeah… I saw it."
"You don't look very happy. Still hung up on Jaehyun?"
"He was my friend. And my rival. If we'd faced each other next, I could have beaten him for sure. Even winning doesn't feel like winning. It feels like I only made it through the semis."
It was all that idiot friend's fault.
A monster of a guy. Someone I'd wanted to catch up to my whole life—and now never could.
Winning without the friend who'd been my strongest opponent made the victory feel like half a thing.
And it was all because of that weird novel.
Lately he'd gotten obsessed with some reverse-harem story about a holy maiden, and maybe it had scrambled his brains.
The monster who was supposed to be once-in-a-lifetime for kendo history had died, absurdly, hit by a truck.
There was some old superstition that if you got hit by a truck, you reincarnated into another world.
I hoped that was true for him. He was far too great a person to leave like that, so hollowly.
If I was going to take his place from here on, I still had a long way to go.
"Still, keep your shoulders back. It's disrespectful to the guys you beat. If you won, you show up looking like a winner. Jaehyun wouldn't have liked you moping around either."
"…You're right. I'm sorry."
"As long as you get it. Go home early today, have a good time with your parents, and starting tomorrow we'll ease into prep for the world championships."
"Yes. I'll work hard."
"Take it slow. You're already doing great—how much better do you need to get? I don't know for sure, but those foreign guys are going to piss themselves when they see today's match footage."
Thump, thump. My master clapped me on the back and sent me off to my parents.
His short words were a great comfort.
Thanks to him, I spent the rest of the day in better spirits and could prepare for what came next.
Honestly, I didn't see anyone overseas who looked like a real match for me either.
That was the difference between every opponent I'd faced so far.
No one in this world carried that overwhelming presence the way he had, so I simply couldn't imagine losing.
Not that I planned to take it easy.
"Coach Jung. How's Daehun these days? He's not slacking off just because he won, is he?"
"No way. If anything, he's hungrier than before. Even if Jaehyun were still around, I wouldn't bet on him against Daehun right now."
"That good?"
"Yes. That kid is going to take the world championship for sure."
I gritted my teeth and pushed through each day.
There was only one way left for me to prove myself.
Look. The best player in the world right now is me.
So the only person who can challenge you and beat you is me, too.
I'd lost our last match, but this time would have been different.
To say that, I needed the title of world champion.
The heavy name of "pro." The blinding spotlight. The honor of being the best in the world.
All of it felt like a promise I'd made to him.
This is how I keep our friendship.
As time passed, my senses grew sharper and sharper.
Had he been seeing the world this way for a long time already?
From the tiniest muscle twitch to every single breath, I felt like I could read an opponent completely.
No one in the country could match me.
The dojo master who'd taught me the sword. My instructor, who'd managed to keep pace with me until recently. The other athletes who'd joined the national training center.
All of them crumbled with ease. By the time we were about to leave the country, no one wanted to spar with me anymore—citing mental management as the reason.
I can do this.
At this rate, I can pull it off.
A powerful certainty settled into my body.
But I never stood on that tournament stage.