A New Star (6)
“Next, please.”
“Ah—yes!”
“·····”
Park Jimin gave a shy little nod.
It had been a good time, in its own way. But he was still a long way from being used to it.
I’m nervous.
If it had been the same faces cycling through again and again, maybe. But almost everyone he met was someone he was seeing for the first time.
“Uh, h-hello, I’m twenty-four, from Daegu·····”
“Hello.”
On top of that, these were fans who had won a precious chance by lottery—brutal ticketing odds, a painfully short window of time—and the tension showed. The overwhelming majority were older women, and feeling at ease with any of them was close to impossible.
Of course.
If putting fans at ease was part of a pro’s duty, he didn’t have much room to argue.
“Fighting for the next match!”
“Yes—fighting!”
Even so, Jimin did his best, smiling as he sent each fan on their way.
“Next, please.”
“·····”
Last one now.
The thought that it was almost over flickered through him, but he fought not to let it show on his face—afraid it might come off as rude.
And then·····
Whoa.
Jimin’s eyes went wide for a second. Thankfully there were enough people watching that he caught himself—he knew how bad that look could seem if he let it linger.
“Hello.”
“Hello.”
She’s incredibly pretty.
He needed more focus than usual. He had known for a while now—more precisely, since last year—just how thoroughly a man could short-circuit the moment a beautiful woman appeared in front of him.
“Sign here, please.”
“Yes—thank you·····”
Strikingly good-looking fans turned up at fan meetings now and then, but this one was on another level. Even as she approached, he had seen the women around her turn to look.
Among the women he had met relatively recently, he had thought their manager, Lee Jiwoo, was quite pretty—but this person was beautiful in a different register. How to put it? Like an Instagram-filtered photo that had stepped off the screen and started walking around.
“Heh.”
“Sorry?”
“Nothing.”
“·····”
Huh?
A woman who waved it off and spoke to him casually. Well—most of the people here were older than him, after all.
“I’ve been watching you a lot for a while now.”
“Thank you so much!”
“Write my name next to it—Song Jiyul. Nice and clear.”
“Yes.”
Jimin smiled as he answered. He wasn’t sure “a while” was a word that belonged anywhere near his career yet—but if that was how she put it, that was how she put it. Who was he to correct a fan’s phrasing?
“But Jimin, you don’t know me, do you.”
“·····Sorry?”
A strange thing to say.
“Huh?”
And then a whole pile of things slammed into his head at once.
“Ah!”
Jimin looked up, startled.
“Starting to ring a bell?”
“Diyul····· right?”
“Who knows?”
The fan gave a little snort of a laugh.
Oh no.
They had never been on the same team, but their names had been tangled together in conversation more than once, and she had dropped into his stream room often enough—Diyul, the female streamer. He had glimpsed her face on stream a few times, but this was the first time he had ever seen her in person. He had never imagined he would run into her at a fan meeting like this.
“I’m a little hurt, you know?”
“Haha·····”
Jimin scratched the back of his head.
“We’re almost out of time.”
“Right—the signature’s done.”
He smiled awkwardly as he handed it over.
“Thanks. Oh—and Solmi noona came with me too.”
“Wait, really?”
A murmur ran through the room. When Jiyul, out of habit, gave his shoulder a light tap, the fans waiting behind them stirred and whispered.
“Huh?”
Jimin looked toward the crowd. There—grinning, waving at him. He smiled back. He had never met her in person either, but there was no mistaking Park Solmi.
“That’s all for now.”
A staff member stepped in.
“Take care on your way out.”
“Bye.”
Jiyul flashed a grin and turned away. From a distance she would have looked like just another friendly, familiar fan—someone who had been here a few times before. The face, though, was rare enough to stand out.
“·····”
Kind of a shame.
It was time for the players to step forward and greet the fans as a group. But Jimin still felt a little unsatisfied.
“Ah!”
Jimin hurried in and found the two of them.
“Over here.”
It was the area meant for family waiting. And yet two women who shared not a drop of blood with him were sitting there.
“Impressive. Making me wait for you.”
“Ah—sorry.”
“Sorry for what.”
Solmi smiled, completely at ease.
“·····”
First time seeing her in person. Compared to Yu Dahye, Lee Jiwoo, and Song Jiyul sitting right beside her, she didn’t give off that fresh, youthful impression—but she was a beauty all the same. That was why she could run a cam stream with such confidence in the first place; he had heard that up until five or six years ago she had done very well on the “pretty streamer” concept.
“You look better in real life, Jimin.”
“Thank you.”
Solmi said it the way an older sister might praise a little brother, and Jimin took it more or less the same way.
“·····”
He smiled at the two of them. People he had somehow fallen in with back in his streaming days. Knowing that those ties still held, even now, made him genuinely happy.
“Here.”
“Huh?”
Solmi held something out to him.
“Nothing special—just cake.”
“Wow, thank you.”
It was a slice of cake, wrapped with care in packaging that looked expensive.
“Whoa. I had no idea you weren’t allowed to bring food gifts to fan meetings.”
“Unnie, you said you go to watch live all the time.”
“I said I never went to a fan meeting.”
The two of them bickered. Anyone could see how close they were.
“I was going to have Jiyul bring it over for me, but she stopped me. I thought I was going to die of embarrassment.”
“Haha·····”
That they had gone to all that trouble because of him left Jimin not quite knowing what to do with himself.
“Thank you both for coming.”
“Hm?”
“What is he saying. God, he sounds like some middle-aged guy.”
The slightly odd phrasing set both women off laughing.
“·····”
These two felt like living proof of how full and worthwhile his streaming days had been. And the fact that it was still going, even after he had become a pro gamer·····
Really—Jimin felt, all over again, just how much the game Sol had given him.
“We’ll start the stream in a bit.”
“Yes.”
“Yep yep yep.”
The players answered the org staff half-heartedly. At this hour, a faintly playful mood always settled over the room.
“Who was that earlier?”
“Sorry?”
Jiwoo, their manager, had come over to talk to Jimin.
“Those women. Who are they that you went bolting off to meet them while everyone else was packing up? You even asked permission to use the waiting room.”
“Ah—people I knew from when I used to stream. They came to cheer.”
“Oh, really?”
Jiwoo grinned.
“So even back when you streamed, you were already stealing all the noonas’ hearts?”
“What are you talking about.”
He had streamed pretty quietly back then. What hearts.
“·····”
The stream setup was coming together. A sudden craving for something sweet hit him, and Jimin opened the cake packaging.
“Whoa.”
The moment the fork hit his mouth, his eyes flew open.
This is really good.
A strawberry fresh cream cake. He didn’t even usually care much for cake, but this one was specially, unusually delicious.
“Good?”
“Haha.”
Junyeong, sitting beside him, smiled at Jimin.
“Want some?”
“I’m good.”
“Wow, that looks amazing.”
Junyeong declined. Jiwoo, however, was right there.
“Go ahead.”
“Thanks—whoa, this is really good.”
Jiwoo cut a generous piece, then covered her mouth as she spoke. He hadn’t bought it for her or anything, but her big reaction still made Jimin laugh.
“Hey. Jimin got that as a gift—eat a little less.”
“He told me to eat it?”
“I’m fine, really.”
“Aigoo.”
Junyeong shook his head and clicked his tongue.
“·····”
But.
Something floated up in Jimin’s mind.
(This would taste really good, right?)
(Huh? Yeah.)
(There’s a popup at the department store. Ah, but it’s not near our place. Never mind, never mind. I’m not going that far.)
A short memory—Dahye showing him a cake photo on her phone. He wasn’t sure if it was this exact brand, but it had been a similar strawberry fresh cream cake. That was before he had any connection to P1, and he remembered searching around just in case there was one near the house.
Jimin suddenly smiled.
Dahye noona would like this too, right?
If Dahye made even roughly the same face Jiwoo just had, it would be unbearably cute. His heart might melt before the cream on the cake did.
“·····”
What do I do?
The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to make it happen. But when he searched, almost nowhere sold it, and he couldn’t carve out the time to take it to Dahye himself. What now?
“What is this, Jimin.”
“What is?”
“What do you mean, what.”
“·····”
A short call stepped out of the middle of stream. Jimin was holding back a laugh.
“You’re suddenly sending me cake? Hm?”
“I got it as a gift and tried it, and it was so good.”
“You didn’t mix it up with noona’s birthday, did you?”
“No.”
“And if you’re sending it, why a whole cake instead of a slice? If noona eats all of this I’m going to gain so much weight.”
Dahye’s voice was gentle and soft. Amazingly enough, the brand was available as a gift coupon linked through chat. Simple—he paid and ordered first, and she only had to enter her address for delivery.
“I think noona could stand to gain a little more?”
“Huh? What? Is that your type?”
“Huh? What do you mean.”
“Ah—ah, I’m losing it. What am I even saying.”
Dahye laughed in little stifled bursts.
“I must’ve gotten contaminated reading chat.”
“Haha·····”
He didn’t know exactly what she meant, but it must have been pretty embarrassing.
“·····”
Nice.
Either way, Jimin couldn’t stop smiling.
“Hoo.”
He still had a stream to do, so he ended the call. He sat back down with a thoroughly satisfied face.
“Oh? Queue popped right as I sat.”
When things were going right, even this worked. The moment he sat, the match locked in.
Chat filled with carefree messages from the viewers.
“Yes, everyone—I love you.”
Jimin dropped a love confession at a completely random moment.
“·····”
He had to show the viewers something cool—but he also felt like he could show them someone simply enjoying the game.
“Bot is playing really well.”
Even the game itself was going his way.
Manner Game Please has left the game.
“Aigoo.”
That leave message never got any less annoying, no matter how many times he saw it.
“They’ll be right back. We’ll keep playing hard.”
But Jimin stayed positive. Today felt like a good day, somehow.
Person Full of Grit has left the game.
“·····”
“Aigoo.”
Of course, it wasn’t as if only good things ever happened.
P1 versus Gen.G Esports. The enemy champions who had already tasted the scissors of P1’s fully scaled top-lane Gwen didn’t dare step forward.
P1’s ADC Abelius landed the ultimate cleanly.
“KYAAAAAAAH!”
The roar that always came when the nexus went down.
“P1! P1! P1!”
With Maehwa and C-Plus Dia already fallen in Round 2, Gen.G Esports had been rated as the most troublesome matchup left for P1. Even they were helpless against P1’s momentum.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
P1’s starting five stepped out after the match to greet the fans—every inch the Summer first-place team.
“You all looked great out there.”
Coach Song Hochang encouraged his players.
“·····”
I want to keep winning.
The multi-game series of playoffs still waited ahead, but regular-season first place was locked. Even so, stepping off the stage, Jimin had only one thought: he wanted to keep winning.