Group Stage (4)

It wasn't as if I'd never done an interview before.

Back in my athlete days, I'd been a fairly promising prospect. Reporters had come around now and then, and when I took ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the national championship, even foreign officials had shown up. After I made the national team, the interview requests only piled on.

So there was no reason to feel shy or nervous. I hadn't been dragged out here for something I'd done wrong — I was standing here as a rightful winner.

I knew that. My head understood it perfectly well.

But maybe it was the body change, because my heart kept hammering and refused to settle down.

Calm down. You know how to shake off nerves.

First, deep breaths. That would help a little.

"Huuup… haaah. Hooo……."

Thankfully, it worked. My tunnel vision eased, and the world around me came back into focus.

In the other room, Ripper seemed to be prepping for his own interview. On my side, reporters who looked exactly as they did in real life were filing into their seats one by one. The empty chair beside me had to be the interviewer's.

A moment later, a striking announcer settled into the seat next to mine. I'd seen her face on broadcasts a few times. Her name… that part I couldn't quite place.

"Were you very nervous? I noticed you doing breathing exercises."

"Ah — no. I'm mostly fine now."

"Impressive. I was a wreck my first time. Well then — shall we start the interview?"

"Yes. I'm ready."

"Great. Let's begin!"

A little icebreaking. The announcer smiled, and a signal went up that the cameras were rolling.

"Arena Main Tournament Group Stage, Group E. In the match between Ga-wol and Rime, Ga-wol takes the win two sets to zero. We'll be speaking with the victor now. First of all — congratulations on the victory!"

"Thank… you."

"Just as you predicted at the draft, you defeated the Lancer player Rime. Could we start with your thoughts on the win?"

"Uh…… Rime held out better than I expected, but I'm glad I won. I'll do well in the next match too."

"There you have it — Ga-wol's thoughts on the victory."

I want to sound more natural than this.

But in this body, keeping my emotions in check wasn't easy. I'd just calmed myself down, and already a faint tremor was creeping back in.

"From the draft onward, you've shown considerable confidence against Lancers. That's generally considered a difficult matchup, isn't it? What's your take on that?"

"I think that's just…… a misconception. If an Assassin plays well, you shouldn't be able to land a hit. Keep chipping away and you win."

"A confident answer, just as you'd expect from Ga-wol."

The announcer chuckled under her breath.

What? Did I just put my foot in my mouth?

Apparently not badly enough to count as a real gaffe. The interview continued in a surprisingly easy atmosphere. Whether out of consideration or not, she steered clear of anything too sharp — though she still made a point of covering the things that needed covering. Why I'd held back on skills in the first set, for instance, or questions about the engagement patterns. Whoever wrote the questions clearly knew how to watch the game.

"And now — Ripper has just closed out his match, making him your next opponent. Any words of resolve for us?"

"Mm, resolve…… might be overstating it. Anyway, I'll go win."

I watched with Traveler only through Group G's matches before we parted ways. That was Luce's group. She put on a better showing than expected and advanced through the winners' bracket. Between that and Traveler's results, good news had been rolling in one after another.

The community mood had been climbing for days because of it. Lately I'd even been searching sites I normally never checked, just to soak in the atmosphere. Plenty of people still hated me, sure — but in a sport like this, public opinion flipped fast. Best to enjoy it while I could.

A day passed, and today the schedule ran from Group A through Group D again. Ordinarily it would have been a free day. But I'd steeled myself and was getting ready to go out.

"Even so, workout clothes are a bit much, right?"

That guy probably wouldn't care either way, but there was still such a thing as manners. Other people's eyes mattered too.

I pulled a pair of black stockings from the drawer and put them on. At first the idea of women's clothes had made me recoil, but by now I didn't have much choice. I simply didn't own many things that fit.

The government's identity cleanup had been surprisingly decent about the service side of things. After the body change, they'd even thrown in a few sets of clothes.

Right after the accident in April, I hadn't had a single living blood relative left. My only real connection — my master — had been about to leave the country with the national team. Even that nearly fell through when I threatened to kill myself if he boarded the plane, and in the end there was no one left in the country for me at all.

"Fine. I get it. Just stop saying you're going to die, for god's sake."

"Then go. Leave the country."

"If I leave, will you actually take your treatment and stay put? Promise me properly."

"I will."

"Alright. I'll call once a day, so pick up when I do."

That part had been fine…… but when I was discharged, I couldn't walk out in my old clothes. So the officer handling my identity paperwork had prepared several outfits for me. The problem was that nearly everything they'd given me was ordinary women's wear. They'd just grabbed whatever matched my size at a nearby mall, which meant almost nothing with long pants. Once I set aside the training gear that was too casual for today, I was essentially wiped out.

I had no choice but to dig out a skirt I'd been carefully storing away. At least the hem reached my knees, which made it less of a burden. When money had been tight, clothes had all been luxuries to me…… Thankfully I had a little breathing room now, so maybe I ought to buy a few proper pieces later.

The moment the skirt was actually on, the revulsion came roaring ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠back.

"Next stop: Incheon Municipal Columbarium. Incheon Municipal Columbarium."

I'd put on the stockings to cover my legs. My left one had a scar large enough to notice at a glance — the kind of thing that would make anyone uncomfortable if they caught it mid-stride. I already drew enough eyes as it was, and on top of that I had to wear a brace on the left leg. Walking around ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with bare skin would have invited stares as a matter of course. Covering up was a utilitarian decision for everyone's peace of mind.

While my thoughts wandered, I arrived at the columbarium. The ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠path was familiar by now, and it didn't take long to climb up to where my friend was.

"Haa…… I'm dying here. You rotten bastard. Making your friend with a bad leg work this hard."

The one mercy was that his remains were on a lower level. I didn't have to stand there straining — I could just sit on the floor. Fortunately, no one was passing nearby. Once I dropped down with a soft thud, my body felt a little more livable.

His photo looked strangely welcome.

Given my circumstances, I couldn't offer him a proper memorial service. He probably wouldn't have wanted one anyway. Better to have a drink on a bench outside and head home than put on some embarrassing ritual. Two guys getting maudlin together would only look pathetic to anyone watching.

"I'm busy tomorrow, so I came early. Be grateful I showed up at all."

Today wasn't actually his death anniversary. That was tomorrow — but a match had been scheduled, so what was I supposed to do? He wasn't the type to get mad over a day early. If our places had been reversed, I would have told him he'd done the right thing.

"I've got a tournament tomorrow. Not a full official league or anything — just an event tournament. Still, a lot of the entrants are pros. It's pretty fun in its own way."

Don't worry about someone like me. Just go play well and come back.

That was the kind of thing he would have said. I was sure of it — or at least, I'd decided to believe that.

The first wall I'd ever run into in my life. My first failure. And my only friend.

So, since I'd come to show my face, I wanted a little cheerleading too.

"I don't know if winning will change anything…… but maybe something will be different? At the very least, it can't get worse."

I murmured through the latest news, and time slipped by before I knew it. My throat was dry. I wanted a drink.