The One Who Yearns (4)
“Good work, everyone.”
“Hoo…”
“Wanna go upstairs and rest for a bit?”
“I’m fine.”
In P1’s practice room, Jimin turned down Kang Jun’s suggestion once the scrims were over.
Definitely.
The first team’s schedule was even more brutal. Scrim slots were packed, and you couldn’t afford to slack on solo practice either. He’d have liked to fire up a stream and grind some solo queue just to bleed off a little stress—but he wasn’t streaming for the time being, so that was out.
“Huh?”
Jimin glanced over at his teammate, Shim Changmin.
Changmin had always been a hard worker, but lately his practice volume looked even heavier.
Probably because of the next opponent.
Gen.G. The other hyungs were all gearing up for this one too—the revenge match for the Spring Playoffs finals. Jimin had watched that series himself; he knew exactly how it had gone. They’d been managing fine through mid and jungle, but the bot lane’s sheer weight class and the enemy top laner’s relentless aggression had been the killers. Changmin, the one who’d been painted as the culprit, had to be taking it harder than anyone.
“Hey!”
Someone clapped a hand on Jimin’s shoulder.
“Sit up straight.”
“Ah…”
It was their jungler, Jo Minhyeok.
“If you don’t fix your posture, your body’s going to fall apart. And do some strength training.”
“Haha, yes.”
Minhyeok headed out of the practice room—the kind of guy who poured every spare minute outside of practice into working out. Even a casual glance made it obvious how developed his back muscles were. He was a good person, but sometimes, when he got too close, Jimin found him a little intimidating.
The door creaked. After a bit more practice, Jimin made his way toward the lounge.
“Noona, you use that lip balm?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Isn’t that the kind guys use?”
Huh?
Voices drifted over as he was passing through. It was their manager, Lee Jiwoo, and their support, Park Sangjin.
“I just already had it, so I keep using it.”
“Did your ex buy it for you?”
“You wanna die?”
“Ah—sorry, sorry.”
Jiwoo smacked Sangjin’s arm. Jimin knew full well it was just teasing. From where he stood, Sangjin seemed unusually close with Jiwoo.
I’m jealous.
A strange little thought settled over him. Sangjin was twenty-three; Jiwoo was twenty-five. She was two years older, and yet they bantered without a shred of awkwardness. The idea of himself pulling the same kind of cheeky, mischievous jokes on Dahui was completely unimaginable. He had no idea when—if ever—he’d be able to do something like that.
“Oh, it’s Jimin!”
“Huh?”
He’d only meant to slip in quietly for a drink, and now he’d drawn their attention.
“I heard your mom came by last time?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry. I should’ve been babysitting Jun less and watching top more so we could develop you further.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Jimin does fine on his own, so buzz off.”
“But how come you told this noona and didn’t say a word to us?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Ah—no, you don’t have to apologize.”
Sangjin looked flustered.
“You’ve got to give off a serious vibe like me if you want Jimin to trust you enough to talk. One look at you and it’s obvious you’ve got a big mouth, so you’re out.”
“Noona, do you have any shame?”
Jimin just listened with a polite smile on his face. Sangjin seemed like quite the impressive guy. Didn’t most men freeze up a little around a pretty woman like Jiwoo? And she was older, too—wasn’t the instinct to get careful around an older woman? Yet Sangjin was completely at ease, joking freely. If Jimin asked him for lessons, he’d probably just get called a weirdo.
“Oh, phone’s ringing.”
Sangjin stepped out to take the call.
“If that noona starts bullying you, tell me.”
“Just go already.”
Shoo, shoo. Jiwoo waved him off.
“Sangjin-hyung seems like he’d be really popular with girls.”
“What?”
“Huh?”
It had been a light remark from Jimin, but when he looked back, Jiwoo’s face had twisted.
“…Excuse me?”
Then she raised her hand and waved her palm right in front of his eyes.
“Snap out of it.”
What on earth was this reaction?
“So you’re saying you want to copy him?”
“No, not exactly—”
“Oh, is that right?”
Jiwoo lowered her hand.
“If our Jimin starts clowning around and acting all flighty like that, this noona’s heart might break a little.”
“Haha…”
Apparently it didn’t suit him.
“Our Jimin has to stay soft and gentle, you know?”
“But still.”
“Hmm?”
The teasing drained from Jiwoo’s face. She blinked, the smile fading just a touch.
“I just thought it might be nice if I could talk more, be funnier, joke around—like Sangjin-hyung.”
“Hmm. Why do you want to be like that?”
Jiwoo thought it over carefully.
“Ah—is it because of the fan meeting?”
“Huh?”
She was smiling like she’d hit the bullseye.
“Right, right. Girls show up all dressed up and start talking to you—that’s gotta make you nervous. You’re still young.”
“…Haha.”
She was wrong, but Jimin didn’t correct her. Dahui was a girl too, and most of the fans who’d approach him at a fan meeting would be girls anyway.
“But the people who like you—the ones who wait just for those few short minutes—don’t they just like you the way you are?”
“Huh?”
“Think about it. Quiet, smiles a lot, doesn’t joke around much—that version of you. Fans share that stuff with each other constantly. They already know, and they come anyway. So it doesn’t matter.”
What had started as a casual chat had somehow turned into counseling. But Jimin was listening seriously.
Just a little more.
She was veering further and further off the mark, so he decided to gently steer things toward what he actually wanted to know.
“Don’t girls find it frustrating when a guy’s like that? Kind of annoying?”
“Isn’t it fine as long as it’s not frustrating?”
“Huh?”
“Do you really have to talk a lot and crack jokes all the time? Plenty of girls actually hate guys who come off as lightweight. Ah—don’t get the wrong idea, I don’t hate Sangjin. More accurately, there are more times I don’t hate him.”
Jimin nodded.
I don’t fully get what she’s saying, but…
He felt a little guilty about getting advice without being honest, but even just airing a fraction of what was on his mind made him feel slightly lighter.
“Some people talk a lot, some people don’t. It’s just personality.”
“Then what kind of guy does noona prefer?”
“What?”
Jiwoo looked startled, then let out a short laugh. Jimin, for his part, was equally flustered—he’d just blurted out the unfiltered question.
“What is this, flirting?”
“Ah. N-no, it’s not. I’m sorry.”
“You’re killing me.”
Whatever she found so funny, Jiwoo kept chuckling under her breath.
“You curious?”
“Ah, no.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, haha.”
The door slid open.
“Hm?”
Junyoung walked into the lounge.
“What are you two doing?”
“Nothing. Oh, wow.”
“Huh?”
Taking in the two of them as he poured himself a drink, Junyoung smirked.
“Hang out with Jimin one-on-one sometime. It’ll be fun.”
“What’s with you all of a sudden?”
Jimin looked between the two of them—same age as each other. Jiwoo really did have a gift for connecting with people. Junyoung and Sangjin had only been with the team a short while, yet she seemed close with everyone.
“I should hang out with Jimin more often.”
“Don’t bully the kid.”
“Why does everyone say I’m bullying him? Jimin-ah, did noona bully you?”
“No.”
“See? He says no.”
“Ugh.”
Junyoung shook his head with a smile.
It’s strange.
Jimin liked both of them—this noona with her eccentric streak, and this quiet hyung. Looking at it that way, Jiwoo’s point about personality not really mattering seemed pretty accurate.
“Any tips?”
“We lost the last finals because our support got completely outclassed. What tips am I supposed to give you?”
“Aha.”
“Aha?”
“Ahem.”
Jimin cleared his throat, trying to shake off a faint edge of nerves. Kang Jun and Sangjin seemed to be getting closer by the day—probably thanks to Sangjin’s social skills. Kang Jun had his emotional side, but watching him from next door, he was a good kid.
Beside him, Changmin sat with his eyes closed, meditating.
Changmin-hyung.
How long had he been waiting for this Gen.G match? From the practice room alone, Jimin had felt the force of his resolve clearly enough.
“Hello, game fans! I’m caster Yoo Jongwon, and joining me for analysis—”
“Wait, for real?”
“It’s not Jimin?”
A murmur ran through the P1 fan section. Of course, the starting lineup had already been available in the articles, but still.
“Yes—P1 and Gen.G Esports, the same matchup from the Spring finals. A true classic of Korea’s SCK! How many fans have been waiting for this rematch?”
“That’s right.”
“Unlike last time, Gen.G’s lineup is unchanged—but P1 has changed, and they can still change further.”
As a first-team roster member, Jimin sat in the coaches’ waiting area with the coaching staff, watching his teammates.
“Game one draft begins!”
“Hoo.”
Jimin glanced sideways. Even Hochang—the reliable adult figure he’d known longest among everyone connected to P1—looked fairly tense about this one.
“Draft is locked. They’re ready! Game one, let’s go!”
“P1, one, two, three!”
“P1 fighting!”
“Gen.G, one, two, three!”
“Gen.G fighting!”
The champions filed out to lane. Jimin focused especially hard on the enemy top laner, Gunt’s, movement. That was one of the things you could do as a member of a team that actually rotated.
He’s good.
“Aggressive play from Gunt right from the start.”
P1 had locked in Gragas–Naafiri–Azir–Kalista–Renata. Gen.G brought Jax–Wukong–Ahri–Varus–Leona. Top was a Gragas versus Jax matchup. Jimin had heard that Gunt was one of the highest-rated Jax players of the past several years.
“Leona’s Flash is down.”
“P1’s bot lane is looking sharp again today.”
Nice.
Even to Jimin’s eye, this team’s bot lane was genuinely strong. From what he’d heard, Gen.G’s support—Death—was also known as an elite player.
“Dodges the Charm again.”
“Luca’s movement is so light.”
Even against Gen.G, it was the same P1 Jimin had always watched. Mid and bot were both winning their lanes. And then top.
“Oh, that was close.”
“Ah, so close.”
“Whoa.”
After a tense laning phase, Gragas hit six and landed a precise barrel detonation—but Jax just barely escaped with Flash.
“But now Jax is in a really uncomfortable spot.”
“No—P1! Just like Coach Jang Yaohwan said, they’ve become a completely different team.”
P1 held the advantage across all three lanes. Oz’s Naafiri was growing without hesitation.
“Ahri’s there too!”
“Wukong spins in—Charm!”
“Ah…”
A mid-jungle dive on bot. Kalista and Renata, who’d been shoving the wave, gave up the kills.
Hochang’s mouth was a hard, flat line.
It’s fine.
But Jimin trusted the team—and he didn’t miss that their CS situation was still looking solid.
“Aaaagh! Ahri gets caught!”
“Nice!”
Coach Yaohwan, who’d been silent all game, clenched a fist.
“That means Herald’s going too. Oh, this is a complete disaster for them.”
A super play from Azir in the Herald fight, and Kalista barely clearing Renata’s bomb necklace—Gen.G took a massive loss. The mid first turret that had been a thorn in their side fell to the Herald as well.
“Barrel explosion—and the Body Slam!”
“Waaaaaaaah!”
The roar from outside. Jimin was clapping too.
“Ah, they take Dragon—this is huge.”
Gragas’s barrel detonation tearing through the enemy formation. He was perfectly locking down the enemy Jax while also dominating teamfights.
“Ah, this is really big.”
Yaohwan smiled with satisfaction. Changmin and Sangjin, who’d struggled so much in the last finals, were flying this time. And that other friend who was no longer part of the team—well, there was no point bringing him up now.
“Blur is showing us the essence of Gragas.”
“How many times has he locked down Jax already?”
The casters were singing P1’s top laner’s praises.
“Oh—careful!”
“Aaaagh!”
“Insane.”
“Whoa.”
Flashing over a wall, Body-Slamming the enemy Varus into a lock, then tossing him with a barrel detonation—Gragas’s super play.
“Varus goes down! Teamfight’s over.”
The enemy couldn’t handle P1’s champions crashing in.
“Kalista! Kalista!”
Kalista, buffed with Renata’s conditional revive, charging forward and hurling spears—the highlight of the final fight in front of the enemy’s twin towers.
“GG!”
“P1 is incredible!”
Fans were on their feet, applauding the clean performance.
Jimin smiled.
Their team really was strong. And seeing Changmin’s fierce willpower actually show results—as a fellow gamer, that made him happy.
“Blur must have had his pride hurt last time. He paid Gunt back properly today.”
“But it’s not over yet. How will Gen.G’s Coach Go Jeonghun prepare a counter?”
“Everyone played well.”
Yaohwan encouraged the players.
“Jimin.”
“…Yes.”
And he called for Jimin.
“Kyaaaaaaaah!”
Players packing up their stations. Fans screaming. Players preparing to come in. Everyone was connected, and yet each of them occupied a separate world—because everyone’s circumstances were a little different.
For the people not yet on stage, this was the time reserved for commercials. And for the player who would step into the public eye the moment the broadcast cameras came back on, this was the time to get ready.
P1’s fans poured out unreserved cheers for the player being subbed in.
“Jimin! Jimin! Jimin! Jimin! Jimin!”
A few fans had already mentioned being surprised during the KRX series—but this time the roar was even bigger.
Changmin slowly packed up his station, his gaze angled toward the P1 fan section. Then Jimin arrived with his gear.
“Good work out there.”
“…Haha.”
“Huh?”
Changmin’s demeanor was different from usual, and it caught Jimin off guard.
“I’m counting on you.”
“Huh?”
As he vacated the seat, Changmin gave Jimin’s shoulder a light tap with his hand.
Jimin could tell Changmin was a little different from usual. And somehow—if he had to put it into words—he looked thoroughly satisfied.
“Game one POG goes to Blur!”
“That Gragas play was absolutely vicious.”
“And P1 is making a substitution.”
“Waaaaaaaaah!”
Even though they already knew, the fans roared all over again.
“Ahem.”
The camera found Jimin as he took the seat. Normally he would have been quite conscious of it—but not now.
His eyes settled on the emblem stitched into the P1 uniform. It wasn’t as if he’d never thought about it before, but right now it looked different. Special.
“P1 takes Aetrox.”
“That’s top, right?”
“For those who know—back in Challengers, Jimin’s Aetrox was an absolute disaster for opposing teams.”
“Jimin’s been performing so well. Can he bring that world-ender Aetrox to the first-team stage?”
As if it were the most natural thing in the world. A build that prioritized raw destructive power over safety. At least so far, he hadn’t been schooled for it—so he was sticking with the Aetrox style his friend had taught him.
“Draft is locked! Game two, let’s begin!”