Appearance, and the Comeback (3)
“My rank’s slipped a bit lately.”
“Hahaha.”
Jimin just laughed at Kim Junyoung’s shameless teasing.
Slipped, he says.
This was Junyoung’s main account—the one that had hit rank one in solo queue. How far could it really have fallen?
Anyway, one way or another, a matchup of absolute top-tier Challenger quality had come together.
“Hmm.”
Jimin scanned the draft.
Jason – Aetrox
Wukong – Scanner
Ryze – Galio
Abelius – Lucian
Lulu – Nami
Come to think of it…
The jungler on Wukong was Lucifer from AIG, last year’s Worlds runners-up. Jimin had watched that Worlds final and seen the way he played—a jungler with a pretty aggressive, headlong style. And by pure coincidence, his own bot laner was Dexter of Maehwa Life Esports, formerly of last year’s Hebei Gaming: a player from the actual Worlds champions.
What must that feel like?
To have fought a life-or-death series on the Worlds final stage, and then sit down in the same game like this—Jimin couldn’t help wondering. Did pros just shrug it off because they were pros?
Honestly… he couldn’t even imagine it.
Worlds titles were one thing. Losing on a stage that big might make you want to scrub everything related to it out of your sight.
“Ahem—yeah. There are a lot of big names in here, but I’ll do my best.”
He was a pro who streamed. He couldn’t sit there lost in random thoughts—especially now that his face was on camera in real time. He had to be more careful.
And…
With other pros in the lobby, every single word needed watching too.
“I’ve got the initiative, but I can’t afford mistakes.”
He had first move, but Aetrox could still carve Jason to pieces depending on the situation. Both the champion he was on and the one he was facing were among his mains, and Jimin was calmly working the game open.
“·····”
The wave shoved in exactly as calculated. The moment the opponent looked ready to use it, Aetrox’s Infernal Chains snapped out. Jimin worked his skills and took a clean winning trade.
It’d get easier if jungle shows up…
Jimin figured that once Wukong arrived, they could send Aetrox straight to hell. But he’d learned from team play that two people never saw the exact same angle, and that what looked like a win from top’s perspective wasn’t always the best win overall.
Allied Wukong headed bot instead. Abelius and Lulu were shoving the wave, and jungle was meticulously setting vision so they wouldn’t get ganked.
Then the mid lane audio came through.
“Ah, so close.”
Allied mid Ryze and Wukong went for the enemy Galio, but Galio walked out on an outstanding skill shot.
As expected.
His teammate mid laner Luca was an absurdly high-level player. Back in Academy, when Open was mid, Jimin had never once—sorry to say it—genuinely wanted him to outplay the enemy mid.
“There are a lot of really good players in here.”
Jimin said it with a small smile. With famous faces in the lobby, chat was definitely going more insane.
Back in the day…
Even a single foreign streamer showing up used to send the viewers into a frenzy.
“Thank you for the 1,000 won. Yeah, I’ll give it everything.”
He was still a player who hadn’t made his first-team debut. Taking the viewer’s encouragement, Jimin sank deeper into the game.
“Oh, insane.”
Enemy slain.
Double kill.
A double kill bot. The second time Wukong went bottom, the bot duo cashed in the spells they’d forced and converted it into a duo kill.
Well, damn.
The enemy support was Ice, Maehwa Life’s starting support. Even so, Maehwa’s Dexter and ING’s Mika were absolutely stomping the opposing bot lane—exactly the kind of picture that explained why their jungler had been camping bot so hard.
“·····”
Jimin pushed for more aggressive trades. It was a game full of pros, but there were still this many people watching—and it was his comeback stream. He wanted to put on a show.
“Hmm. This is rough.”
“·····”
Junyoung muttered from beside him. If even the enemy mid laner felt that way, it meant Jimin’s team was gripping the other side by the throat and shaking.
“Ah—”
The word slipped out of Jimin without meaning to. The Aetrox lane wasn’t over, and in the middle of pressing hard, a gap had opened up.
“Ah, so close.”
One auto short of the solo kill. He’d wanted to show something in a lane where the team wasn’t intervening much, and he swallowed the disappointment.
[Team] Wukong has requested assistance
[Team] Wukong has requested assistance
“·····”
Jimin followed the jungle pings and helped with the counter-jungle.
“·····”
Jimin still didn’t trust his own judgment in team play. So whether it was solo queue or coordinated games, he leaned hard on his allies’ decisions.
“Huh?”
Scanner showed near the enemy red buff. Wukong went in hard.
“·····”
As if they’d planned it, Jimin went in hard with him.
Enemy slain.
“Nice.”
An already winning game—and they’d just deleted the enemy jungler and fed red buff into their own jungle’s mouth.
“·····”
This is comfortable.
Playing off good allies’ pings—and getting results—felt genuinely fun. But he couldn’t keep doing this forever. Jimin told himself he still needed to grow his own eye for the game.
Enemy slain.
The game kept tipping. Sides, mid pack—everywhere, they were ahead. Enemy Scanner and Galio did pick off allied Ryze once on a side lane, but it didn’t touch the bigger picture at all. Above all, Abelius–Lulu smothering the Lucian–Nami duo in the middle of the map was what made the game so comfortable.
This…
And in that winning game, in front of the enemy top tier-two tower, Jimin saw the angle again.
Enemy slain.
Fluid skill shots weaving Hammer Form and Cannon Form. Aetrox never had a chance to move—he just died.
“Now we’re really ahead.”
There was already a level gap, and now a solo kill on top of it.
Thank god.
The game wasn’t over, but as the person who’d turned this stream on, he’d at least shown something.
Then the fight for the fourth dragon—a teamfight the losing side couldn’t afford to walk away from.
“·····”
Jimin’s eyes went wide. Allied Wukong’s flash of an engage—Cyclone—launched the enemy skyward in an instant.
“Huh?”
But the enemy top-side champs, specialists at closing and biting, snapped onto Abelius in a heartbeat. Jimin scrambled to help.
“·····”
It didn’t change much. With precise spacing and movement, Abelius hunted the enemy champions instead. In a game this high-level, the second Abelius lived through that split-second of movement, the fight’s ending was already written.
“Whoa.”
The finishing touch was Abelius’s Moonlight Vigil sniping the fleeing Nami at the end.
“·····”
Fourth dragon into Baron—there was nothing left to watch. Jimin felt it all over again: there really were so many people who were just that good.
Someday…
The day would come when he played in front of countless people with these absolute best-in-the-world players. He hoped that day would arrive even one day sooner.
“Ah, three-game win streak feels good.”
Strong play, a clean record, and a viewer count that kept climbing. Jimin huffed a small laugh.
“Jimin’s a strawberry guy, right?”
“Oh—yes.”
A pack of strawberry snacks landed in front of him.
“Thank you.”
“As if I bought those with my own money.”
A woman smirked and moved on. P1’s manager, Lee Jiwoo, was handing snacks out to the players as she passed.
“Ah····· she’s our team manager.”
Jimin said it carefully. His stream had never been the kind that got weird about other women streamers anyway, so the chat that had flared up at a beauty’s entrance cooled down just as fast.
“Augh! Varus just got a kill!”
“Guys, just FF. Nowhere left to gank.”
Right after her, Rapid—Kang Jun—and Oz—Jo Minhyeok—appeared and filled the streaming room’s audio to the brim.
“Ahem.”
Jimin realized all over again that this wasn’t the old solo room broadcast anymore—though he hadn’t really registered it when Junyoung and Sangjin were around.
Still…
For some reason, Blur—Shim Changmin—and Spoon—Baek Seunghyeon—seemed to fully split their streaming days.
“·····Ah!”
Something hit Jimin while he was in queue.
“One sec, bathroom.”
Nothing to actually take care of—he just headed for the restroom.
“·····”
He opened Dahye’s stream on his phone. Just in case, he still had that old smurf account ready.
"Ah, fuck! Why would you take that hit?!"
“Ah.”
Dahye had her cam on and was playing Sol.
Thank god.
Jimin broke into a bright smile. There she was—the streamer he’d loved back then. She didn’t look sick or hurt at all.
I miss her.
Even so, he still wanted to meet her and hear her voice.
“Ah—hahaha. Used to stream for like ten hours at a stretch.”
Time to say goodbye. Jimin scratched his head, reluctant. Unless it was personal streaming during the off-season, a pro player’s broadcast hours could never run that long.
“Thanks for the 1,000 won. If you see me in Jongno, say hi.”
Jimin said it with a smile.
“Hahaha.”
One chat line caught Jimin’s eye.
Exactly.
Another reason to debut even a day sooner—and get into more games.
“Close.”
“So close.”
“It’s fine. We’re 1–1.”
P1’s practice room. The scrim against ST All-Stars had just ended.
“Alright then—Jimin, Jun, come in.”
Head coach Jang Yaohwan called in the recently promoted members.
“They’re sharp, I’ll give them that.”
“If top plays well, ST’s no joke either.”
Yaohwan and coach Song Hochang talking.
“ST’s Hanzo played well last scrim too, right?”
“Guy’s grinding his teeth for real.”
Kim Hyeseong—Hanzo—the top laner who’d been with Gen.G Esports last year. After sitting out Spring and joining ST All-Stars for Summer, his play looked like a blade being sharpened.
Yeah. You can’t ignore that.
As if answering Gunt, the current Gen.G top laner who’d taken his starting spot, Hanzo was showing a level far beyond before. Yaohwan could feel it—that competitive fire and fighting spirit was exactly the kind of thing that woke players up.
“I think we should give Jimin side-push champs.”
“Yeah.”
Yaohwan spoke to the coach while looking at Jimin, who’d taken a seat.
“·····”
Jimin and Blur. At least for this moment, being able to work with both of these top laners felt like a blessing.
Even so…
Yaohwan watched Jimin—who’d come in for Blur after Blur had been clearly outclassed by Hanzo in today’s first and second scrim games—with eyes full of expectation for just how much he could do.