Enter the Tournament? (1)
“Ahem.”
Park Jimin cleared his throat. Letting the enemy bot lane snag a duo kill was far from ideal. It also didn’t help his stream — he was supposed to keep viewers entertained with sharp play and wins.
“Thanks for the 1,000 won. I’ll just have to play better.”
Raging at dead teammates and spewing insults was not his stream’s brand. And even if his team was playing poorly, he had no intention of going that route anyway.
“Ah, come on…”
Jimin was on Fiora, crushing the enemy Camille under their inhibitor turret. If the rest of his team could just hold a little longer, he might break through—
“Haa…”
Jimin bit his lip.
“Ah… that’s a shame.”
He didn’t win every day, but the sting of a loss was never a pleasant feeling. Even after the game ended, the ADC and support kept bickering. Jimin left the lobby at once and queued up again.
“Ah, yes — thank you for the 5,000 won, CDAS. I’ll try to do better next game.”
Through his teammates’ disappointing plays and the kind of chat that made anyone wince, Jimin simply kept queuing in silence.
Still a lot.
The hype Render had drawn in should have been cooling off by now, but the viewer count that had climbed higher than before wasn’t dropping off.
“……”
Jimin almost smiled like an idiot, but he managed to hold it in.
“Thanks for the 1,000 won! My back timing?”
The queue still hadn’t popped, and Jimin found himself interested in the chat.
“Thank you — oh, is that so?”
A viewer who could have just typed in chat but chose to donate instead.
What’s weird about it?
Jimin scratched his head, a little sheepish.
“Ah, it’s fine, though…”
Jimin said it was okay, but the viewer who’d piqued his interest didn’t continue.
Back timing?
It stuck with him into the next game — but his opponents were Master-tier players too. He fell right back into old habits before he could help it.
“Ah, fucking hell, why are they like this again.”
Not even an hour after swearing she’d cut down on the swearing, Yu Dahye — mid-stream — let a curse fly.
It was a game where she’d locked in ADC. She’d been a little frustrated with her support’s play, but the ones who truly set her off were the jungler and mid.
“Wait, when did Jimin get here.”
Dahye spotted Jimin typing in chat.
“Jimin, if you’re here, manage the chat for me.”
He’d already been given manager permissions. Dahye had handed him an unpaid job.
“……”
Chat was getting a little spicy, but Jimin said nothing at first.
“Huh?”
Dahye tilted her head at the completely random line.
“What is this kid even saying.”
And just like that, whatever rage she’d been holding onto vanished — she broke into a little giggle instead.
“Was your chat that bad? Noona already wiped out everyone who tried to bait with that stuff, you know? Let’s all behave from now on.”
Dahye’s stream had long since purged anyone who tried to light the pro-player rumor on fire.
“Nope. I’m not entering.”
Dahye shut it down cleanly.
“Ah, this is what Sol is supposed to feel like.”
This game, top and mid both stomped their laners, and with an early gank assist Dahye herself had pulled ahead of the enemy ADC in gold.
“Carry!”
Dahye, who’d gone deathless, beamed as she celebrated.
“Ah…”
He didn’t particularly relate, but clearly Dahye wanted him to speak more casually.
But still.
Outside of people he’d known for a long time, he’d never spoken casually with anyone older than him. Doing that with someone he’d met properly out in the world, like Dahye, was just…
But if Dahye wanted it, it wasn’t hard.
Of course, it still wasn’t easy yet.
“……”
His mom never really brought Dahye up on her own. Even so, Jimin found it strange that he was offering even this kind of empty reassurance.
“Hmm…”
But all she’d said was that she was coming — nothing about what they would actually do — so once again he was no closer to knowing how to prepare.
“Ah, right, the tournament.”
He’d meant to ask Dahye about it once, but the chance had slipped by.
“Alright, let’s take a look.”
Jijijik streamer Render went live and began reading a post that had gone up online.
Jijijik Universe Strongest Streamer Tournament
Summoners of Legends
“The tournament name, haha — wow, they really nailed that one.”
The schedule had been announced before, but the format hadn’t been public. This time, they were making it official.
“Four teams. Day one is a league format to determine rankings, and day two decides the winner.”
Four teams. Four captains each assembling a roster.
Iron / Bronze × 1
Silver / Gold × 1
Platinum / Emerald × 1
Diamond / Master × 2
“For the Diamond/Master slots, anyone who’s hit Challenger not just now but as far back as last year is banned. Oof, going back a whole year is pretty strict. But Grandmaster is fine even if you’ve hit it before, as long as it wasn’t recent.”
Render explained. Of course, the four streamers driving the event’s hype had known the format for a while. This was just the first time they were saying it in front of their viewers.
“Come on, I’m pretty good too.”
Render laughed like he couldn’t believe it.
“I figured I’d give it a shot this time.”
Park Donghyun, Cheon Gyeoul, Render, Hirose Haruka. Four streamers almost nobody on Jijijik hadn’t heard of, serving as captains. The platform had put real ambition into this one.
Render’s participation — a name with real reach even among casual viewers — significantly raised expectations for the event’s success. And because of that, the captains’ responsibility was heavy: they couldn’t just chase a win; they had to build teams with the tournament’s entertainment value in mind.
They were massive streamers now inseparable from Jijijik itself, after all.
“We have to recruit our own teammates, so yeah — I’m fine with that.”
Building a roster from the start was more comfortable for Render than queuing with strangers.
“Ah, chat — but I already had some people in mind for the team.”
Render said, glancing at the chat.
“Oh right, I still need to get permission, though. Yeah, I’ll take it slow.”
He’d covered everything about the tournament, so he queued up right away. Of course, he’d already reached out to about three of them.
“……”
On his phone, he was looking somewhere else.
Not streaming.
One slot left. He sent a message to the streamer who’d gone offline.