Starting Lineup Competition (1)

"Park Jimin, over here."

"Yes."

Sleek facilities. The scent of cosmetics. Unfamiliar, yet somehow not awkward.

"Your skin's so good there's barely anything for me to put on."

"Ah—haha, thank you."

Jimin smiled awkwardly.

Jongno SOL Park, the so-called holy ground of Korean esports. Unlike the last time he had come as a spectator, he was here as a player.

The players always arrived hours before the fans. There was plenty to do—and one of those things was makeup.

The Korean pro scene had understood for a very long time that what the camera saw mattered. Anyone caught on broadcast got their hair done, and when necessary, cosmetics on their face as well.

"Hmm…"

"What, are you tired?"

"Ah—sorry."

Forced to sit still all of a sudden, Jimin let the fatigue show. Staring at a monitor every day, hands moving nonstop, brain never resting—the drain on his stamina was no joke. At his age, sheer youth alone wasn't enough to fully overcome it.

"It's fine. I know every pro gamer is exhausted."

"Ah…"

"How hard must it be? Practicing every day, barely sleeping properly."

The elaborately made-up woman—the makeup artist—spoke with a warm, kind smile.

Yeah.

Jimin thought about it. He always told himself he was working hard—but of course every pro was working hard. And everyone got the same twenty-four hours in a day. If you wanted to catch up after a late start and make your own talent shine, you had to use that time with denser purpose than anyone else.

"You take pretty good care of yourself, don't you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. Your hair looks like you put thought into it, and your brows are neat too."

"Ah…"

Even after the day he'd gone with Dahye, Jimin had kept going back to that same salon in Gangnam. Joining P1 had made the distance closer, and he simply didn't want to trust his hair to anyone but the person he already knew.

…

It really was everywhere—traces of how much Dahye had shaped him. The thought settled over Jimin again.

"Got ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a blind date after this today?"

"No? Why?"

"You seem a little different from usual."

"Different how?"

"Do I have to put it into words?"

"If you started it, finish it."

Whoa.

From the next seat over, Jimin watched the team's support, Park Sangjin, banter with his makeup artist. To anyone else it might have looked like nothing, but to Jimin the scene was strangely remarkable. They weren't dating, and yet they talked with that easy, shameless ease.

Come to think of it, Sangjin also seemed closer with their manager, Lee Jiwoo, than the other players did.

"Ahem."

Calling it full makeup would have been an exaggeration—just concealer and a bit of BB cream. Even so, for Jimin, who never wore anything, it felt plenty awkward.

"I don't get why we even do this."

"Hm?"

Beside him, Kang Jun was grumbling. With his free-spirited hair, the change from his usual look was more dramatic than anyone else's.

"We never did this in Challengers."

"They say for first-team players, being seen matters."

"We're not going to be seen for a while anyway, so what's the point."

…

Kang Jun's tone was blunt. Quietly, Jimin found himself agreeing.

"Forget everything else—first match of the season. We win this."

"Yes!"

At Head Coach Jang Yaohwan's words, the players roared back as one.

Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!

Jongno SOL Park. That distinctive SCK opening music. The broadcast cameras came on, and the roar of applause from a stadium packed with fans began to swell.

…

"Why are you clapping?"

"Ah!"

In the waiting room with the coaches—and the seats reserved for players not in the starting five—Jimin had started applauding without thinking. Song Hochang stopped him.

…

Watching the broadcast from the waiting room, he could see the cheer signs P1 fans had brought in.

I'm jealous.

The slogans were simple, but the care put into them was unmistakable. You could feel how seriously these people loved the game.

Outside, the head coach directed ban-pick with a careful expression. The players looked just as focused. From a waiting-room seat, this was the first time Jimin had ever watched the scene like this. Back in Challengers, he had played every single game.

"Whew."

"Ren looks good right now—can we give that?"

"We didn't have a choice."

Yaohwan and Hochang were talking. Kang Jun hadn't said a word for a while; his face gave nothing away about what he was thinking.

It's starting.

Set one began.

P1 had completed their Arin–Bain mid-jungle duo. With Luca having thoroughly worked over the enemy mid Galio, Bain flashed in like lightning and finished the job with a swinging fist.

As P1's snowball composition started moving freely, the enemy jungle dried up at high speed.

"We need a little more."

If we land just one more punch…

They were ahead, but P1's coaching staff looked anything but relaxed.

"Whoa, nice."

"Top balance is broken."

In the top lane, Naru and Bain took down the enemy top Aurore. With the wave shoved in, they were set to pull completely ahead up there as well.

"Ah, that was good."

…

Not just the coaches—Jimin and Kang Jun stood up too to greet the starters as they came back.

They're good.

That game had been pure dominance. Mid, top, bottom—almost no mistakes. They had dismantled the enemy like working through a math formula.

Just like in set one, P1's jungler Jo Minhyeok put on a dazzling show. The substance of the game barely changed.

"It's over."

"Thank goodness."

For all the overwhelming play, the mood in P1's waiting room was only the quiet relief of having cleared one hurdle.

…

Glancing sideways at the silent Kang Jun, Jimin clapped softly and nodded along. He still couldn't quite name the feeling sitting in his chest.

"Let's go already."

"Huh? Oh—yeah."

P1's Summer opener had ended without drama. Across both sets, CK Savings Bank Orion never even touched a P1 inhibitor.

Jimin and Kang Jun, who hadn't played, were heading back to the car. The starters still had a thirty-minute fan meet to do, so they had to wait. Under current rules, only players who had actually appeared in the match for the winning team got to do the meet-and-greet.

"Ugh."

Jimin peeked at the fan-meet line. Whether it was because the win had been so clean, or because they had won the lottery for the meet itself, the fans' faces looked genuinely bright.

"I don't know."

"About what?"

"Honestly, wasn't I better?"

"Haha."

Jimin answered with only the corner of his mouth lifting.

It's true, though.

"Spoon"—Baek Seunghyeon—was a solid ADC, but Kang Jun had far more moments in scrims where he looked outright destructive. Late-game teamfights were one thing; in the early laning phase, anyone with eyes could see Kang Jun sitting higher.

(This champion tier list is hard to sort. They just keep ending games off three-lane laning wins.)

Hochang's laughing comment floated back to him. Ever since Jimin and Kang Jun had joined, P1 scrims had been full of games that crushed top, mid, and bot from the very first minutes.

So if that's the case…

Jimin had studied SOL enough by now. If their team's strength was rolling a snowball from the early game—and if that was the style they preferred—wouldn't he and Kang Jun fit better?

Was that childish? Selfish? Ugly? He didn't think so.

But still.

Who played was the coaches' job. There was nothing he could do about it.

"Whew…"

Even so—the quiet fear that all his effort might still fail to produce results—that wasn't a pleasant thought at all.

"Ah, that's a shame. The comp was fine."

Queue times were already long, and then someone dodged. Wasted stream time. Jimin's face showed the frustration.

"Thank you for the 1,000-won donation. Yeah—I just have to play better."

Sensitive topic. Jimin was doing his best to smile and handle it well.

"…Haha."

A few of the viewers were pretty relentless.

"Our team is just playing really well right now."

That was as far as Jimin would compromise.

"Thanks for the support, everyone. Yeah—I'll keep working hard."

Jimin wanted to show his first-team debut to his viewers as soon as he could. For now, though, it looked like a season of endurance. The frustration, the impatience—in the end, the only way through was SOL itself.

…

Of course it wasn't easy. He was already sure he worked harder than almost anyone.

"Huh?"

Jimin glanced at his phone.

Heh.

Jimin forgot he was live and smiled at his phone. He was still in queue for solo queue, so a moment was fine.

…

Dahye nuna.

Had she ever reached out first like this—so carefully attentive? Jimin was so grateful. It was a little foolish, clinging to a scrap of pride and saying he didn't care about not playing, but there was nothing he could do about it. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The girl you liked always turned a guy into an idiot.

Thanks to Dahye's consideration, the exchange ended quickly. A little disappointing—but he had work to do.

"Webtoons these days are really fun."

A twinge of guilt made Jimin invent a nonsense excuse, and he said it out loud with zero filter.

"Yeah. I'll play this game well."

Jimin smiled much brighter than before. Recognition might not be arriving in the amounts he wanted—but as long as there were people who would comfort him, he couldn't stop.

"So close."

…

Jimin glanced sideways for a second, then looked back at the broadcast screen. It seemed Kang Jun's feelings weren't pure rivalry alone. But because everything was written right there on his face, Jimin's own expression had grown fairly dark.

P1's second Summer match was against Maehwa Life Esports—Spring champions, MSC champions. Fans had been crying that this time would be different, desperately hoping for a transformed team against the defending titleholders. But against Maehwa, P1 was still the exact same team from Spring.

"Whew…"

Head Coach Yaohwan let out a long breath.

What made it sting more for P1 was that in the previous match, C-Plus Dia had played a beautiful series against Maehwa—one where you couldn't know the result until the third set ended. Today's P1, by contrast, looked like every technique they threw out was being nullified. Powerless.

…

Can we win?

Because he knew how strong his own team P1 was, Jimin could feel just as clearly how strong Maehwa Life was against them. Even when they tried to open with P1's powerful laning, they kept getting tangled by Myohwan's jungle pathing and late-game macro.

Maehwa fans cheering. P1 fans with long faces—both filled the broadcast cameras and caught in Jimin's eyes.

"Huh?"

A tight clench.

Jimin saw it clearly: Coach Yaohwan was genuinely worked up.