Time of Choice (3)
“Ah, so close!”
Today was another Urk mode session.
Maokai versus Leona.
Park Jimin, who had been soul-to-soul trading every inch of space with the enemy champion, shuddered with pure regret.
Of course, it wasn’t like last time.
Jimin was playing with the teammates he had last teamed up with for the tournament. For a while now they had only popped into one another’s chat windows during individual streams; gathering like this for a full session felt like ages.
“Nuna, try hitting R when you get hooked.”
“Ah—no, that was my bad.”
Yapang had been caught with Charm and mistimed it. Jimin just laughed it off.
“Sorry, it just came out wrong.”
He had meant to say “use your ult,” so why had “try hitting R” slipped out instead?
Park Solmi had locked in her comfort pick, Orianna. Even in Urk the champion was absurdly strong, and she was putting up the best performance on the team.
“……”
I want to play something fun too.
Maybe he should have just stacked AP and magic pen and gone full meme Maokai. He had been trying not to look like a freeloader with the rest of the team around, but tanking was leaving him a little bored.
There had been a time when all he cared about was performing well himself. Now he wanted to show the viewers and the streamers he was close with something cool.
“Huh?”
Random Urk.
Jimin’s champion: Silence.
“I’m good.”
He was fine on Rift Camille, but he didn’t particularly want to play her in Urk.
A grin tugged at his mouth.
This is gonna be fun.
Silence, who could snatch enemy ultimates left and right—this time he was going to put on a real show.
“You played really well.”
Jimin answered evenly, but he was in a good mood. Silence was weak early in Urk, and he already had two kills.
“Hyung, I’m heading mid.”
He left the bot 2v2 with Yapang and moved toward Render, who had been sitting mid.
He immediately stole the enemy Ahri’s ultimate and converted it into a kill.
“……”
Jimin tore across the Rift without pause. Runble, Gangplank, Ahri, Karthus—so many ultimates to steal that it was pure joy.
“Oh.”
Jimin was not usually the type to chase a penta. Today, though—lately, really—he wanted to leave an impact.
Chongmyeong’s Tahm Kench spat the last enemy out.
“Ah—thank you.”
“Hehe.”
Good people, good time. Jimin was genuinely enjoying the game.
Huh?
“……”
Once again Jimin had brought over the side dishes his mom had made for Dahye. Using the excuse that it was better to keep getting your hair cut at the same place, he had also gotten a trim from Mina-ssaem.
Worth it.
He had found a cake place online and bought the red velvet flavor Dahye had mentioned liking before. Whether standing in line for an hour and a half was worth the taste, he couldn’t say—he hadn’t tried it himself—but seeing how happy she looked felt like its own reward.
“Hyung might climb to Challenger too.”
“……”
He should have been the one to suggest collabs more often. Lately so many people had started reaching out first that he sometimes felt like he was letting these moments slip by.
Someday, for sure.
He hoped that if he ever came back, things would still feel like this.
“Whoa, that looks incredible.”
Jimin’s jaw dropped.
The Worlds finals unfolding in Paris, France. The introductions for Hebei and AIG looked absolutely monumental to him.
A sharply dressed white man introduced the players one by one.
AIG’s turn.
Top laner Hades. Jungler Lucifer. Mid laner Assault. Bot laner Aids. Support Genocide.
Chinese SOL fans lost their minds for powerhouse top laners. The roar for Hades—one of the biggest stars in the SPL—and AIG’s four Chinese nationals was especially deafening.
Then the team that would face them.
Hebei Gaming’s players began to appear.
Top laner 486. Jungler Kazi. Mid laner Fugao. Bot laner Dexter. Support Aiko.
In the off-season Hebei Gaming had assembled a lineup that shocked SOL fans worldwide. Korean nationals Kazi and Dexter needed no introduction, and the Chinese trio were all league-defining talents in their own right.
Jimin swallowed dryly and locked onto the game.
Just hearing “Worlds finals” made his heart pound. The atmosphere in the arena. The faces of the players and coaches caught on camera. Even the ban-pick BGM was perfect.
“AIG fight!” “Hebei fight!”
The two chants waged a proxy war on behalf of the players.
“Ah……”
Watching primarily as a top laner, Jimin tracked the top side. Hades on Jayce was pressuring 486 on Gnar from the earliest moments, but the game as a whole was being puppeted by Hebei.
Hebei’s Kazi on Viego. Some fans still pigeonholed him as the archetypal commander-style jungler, but from Game 1 he was showing destructive carry power.
Add the Dexter–Aiko duo, who had been burying the enemy bot lane in lane and snowballing the gap. The difference opened in lane only widened once the ADC battlefield shifted to mid.
“Whoa……”
Jimin could barely believe what he was watching. The casters kept insisting AIG’s skirmish power meant it wasn’t over, but the game looked like Hebei was toying with them in the palm of their hand.
Hebei’s macro was like a dehydrator. It almost felt like they were simply collecting a victory that had already been set aside for them.
“Aigoo.”
Finals Game 2.
Hebei bot locked Xayah–Renata; AIG answered with Abelius–Lulu.
AIG jungler Lucifer ganked, but the play tangled, he got caught instead, and an awkward lane state was born.
This is going to be rough.
After seeing Hebei bot in Game 1, once the gap opened this early there didn’t seem to be many variables left.
“Wow.”
Hebei had dominated the whole game. AIG landed a gorgeous engage, but Hebei’s Xayah even burned Flash forward and melted the carries.
Dexter’s play looked like a masterclass in what an ADC was supposed to be. And every Hebei player was showing a level of perfection where you couldn’t even call anything a mistake.
“Hmm.”
When Hebei strolled to the win exactly as the chat had predicted, Jimin felt a little hollow.
AIG’s faces darkened. Hebei’s players looked so blank it was almost scary. Jimin held his breath and waited for the next game.
“Huh?”
A champion Jimin liked too—but one that almost never showed up in the top lane. In the finals, AIG’s Hades locked Yohone.
“Looks playable enough.”
Of course, Jimin felt like Aetrox into Yohone or Yohone into Aetrox—whatever he got, he could make it work.
“Insane.”
Yohone took his second kill. The ally ADC on Jax was holding better than expected, and even with jungle help factored in, top was already massively ahead.
“……”
“Haa.”
Only then did the fully locked-in Jimin feel like he could breathe again.
Hades’s carry on Yohone, and the rest of AIG playing as if they had become a single living organism. They had finally toppled Hebei, who had stayed rock-solid until the end.
The cameras stayed glued to Hades.
What must that feel like?
He had just put on a spectacular carry performance on the Worlds finals stage, and yet he looked utterly calm.
“This is fun.”
At least it hadn’t ended in a hollow sweep.
But then came Game 4.
486’s Gragas was executing lane phase cleanly against Hades’s Jax.
In mid, Hebei’s Ahri–Vayne combo picked off mid Azir.
A jungler who converted the laners’ high individual skill into a massive advantage. Hebei’s signature game was starting again.
Hebei fight! Hebei fight!
“……”
A perfect teamfight blowout. Hebei fans erupted.
The nexus shattered, and Hebei Gaming’s players stood and embraced one another at once.
“It’s over.”
Jimin said it evenly, but from that teamfight onward he had barely been able to breathe.
AIG had nearly forced a reverse through teamfighting, only for Hebei’s teammates to throw their bodies in the way of every threat to their ADC, and for that ADC to answer with perfect damage. This was the victory Hebei had been chasing in SOL.
The sight of Hebei’s champions thrashing to peel Jax as he dove their Ashe at the end was the highlight of the entire series.
High-level play. Watching the two SPL teams put on a show for the eyes, viewers could only manage awe and self-deprecation.
“Huh?”
Jimin muted the stream.
“You watching Worlds?”
“Yes.”
“Ugh, too loud—I stepped into the bathroom.”
White Tiger Song Hochang had called him.
International rates are going to be brutal.
Even now, Jimin was calculating how much the call might cost. Of course the person who dialed would be the one paying.
“Jimin.”
“Yes, hyung.”
“What did you think, watching that?”
“It was really cool.”
“Right? I wanted to be like that too… Ah, sorry, nonsense.”
Hochang paused for a beat.
“Jimin. You can definitely get there. That might be your stage.”
“……”
A dreamlike story.
But one worth dreaming.
“Ahem.”
“How many times are you going to clear your throat?”
Jang Yaohwan grumbled at Song Hochang.
“……”
“Jimin, are you feeling sick today?”
“Ah, no, I’m fine.”
Jimin smiled awkwardly.
Will this be okay?
On the way home.
Today he was heading back with Yaohwan and Hochang to persuade his mom—or at least put her mind at ease. He had told her there were people he wanted to introduce, but…
Jimin sneaked a glance at the two of them.
Yaohwan, who looked every bit the elite at a glance. Hochang, dressed in a suit yet somehow still giving off a slightly swaggering impression.
If you added a little misunderstanding, they could almost look like a two-man crime syndicate.
“……”
Of course, something else was weighing on him more.
He wanted to say something—anything—to Dahye, but the problem was that he had nothing to say. More precisely, he couldn’t pour out everything swirling in his head.
That restless, anxious feeling.
“Don’t worry, Jimin. We can even show her the P1 head coach business card now. She’ll feel better.”
“Thank you for going this far for me.”
“Your mother won’t give permission?”
“No—I think she will. I’m just worried she’ll stress a lot. But you really didn’t have to help this much.”
“Saying thank you for raising a good son is just basic manners.”
Yaohwan grinned.
Whether he looked fully trustworthy… was debatable, but Jimin was sincerely grateful either way.
He seemed like a good person even if his words got a little rotten sometimes. He hoped his mom would look kindly on these two hyungs as well.
Come to think of it.
His mom must have had just as many jaw-dropping moments as he had, all in such a short time.