Academy League Summer Season (1)
Ha-young was gazing up at me with desperate eyes.
"What's wrong? Practice not going well?"
"Yes... no, not that. Practice itself is fine. But my performance is kinda..."
"Keep orders short and clear. State your opinions firmly. That's what I've been drilling into you. If you need something, say it straight out."
I called her out for beating around the bush.
Ha-young rolled her eyes for a moment before continuing.
"My mechanics aren't improving. Sure, I've gotten better than before, but compared to the others... Even in the last scrim, I was the only one eating skills left and right, flailing around. At this rate, I'll just drag the team down. Coach, can't you give me some one-on-one training until my mechanics improve?"
Hmm...
Lee Ha-young (18)
Physical: D
Mental: B
Judgment: B
Competitive Spirit: C
Teamwork: B
* Captain who leads the team. Excellent mental and judgment are essential.
* Physical is relatively low. Overcoming it requires grueling effort.
She was spot on with her self-assessment.
Under two months of coaching, the players' skills had shot up fast. Especially physical—the most crucial for pros—which had reached at least C-level across the team.
Everyone except Ha-young.
Her mental, judgment, and other captain qualities were top-notch, but her physical lagged far behind the other four.
On paper, it was just one rank difference, but training had shown her the massive gap that represented.
In practice, she ate skillshots the others dodged easily and died in spots where she should've had an out.
Sera's disastrous plays in scrims had overshadowed the others a bit, but in a normal game, Ha-young would've drawn the most flak from viewers.
Old pros always said dodging skills wasn't feedback territory, so I'd focused on her orders instead.
But now she was calling out her own mechanics and begging for special training.
Honestly? I loved it. Great self-awareness.
Pros who lacked it and flamed out spectacularly were everywhere. Hell, Seona was exhibit A.
"So, what kind of special training? Crank up the regular intensity?"
"No. Could it be one-on-one coaching?"
"What time?"
"After evening practice ends, like now."
"When do you fill your solo queue games then?"
"After training. I'll sleep less."
"When do you want to start?"
"Right now."
Her drive was infectious. Looked good on her.
"It'll be way harsher than regular practice. You sure? Might end up crying your eyes out. Can you keep up?"
She nodded vigorously at my final warning.
"Better to cry from hard training than drag the team down with weak skills. No matter how tough, I'll stick it out. Please take care of me, Coach."
"Good. Don't lose that fire. We just finished practice—rest ten minutes, then log in. Two hours training. More than that, your body won't hold. We'll see if we keep this pace based on your progress."
"Yes!"
I'd already felt she needed mechanics work. Perfect timing— she'd come to me.
No slacking. She'd better brace herself.
"I told you to stay alert in the fog! You think it's safe, that's why your reactions are slow!"
"Watch their hands, feet! The attack origin! Tracking that alone doubles your reaction speed!"
"Watching ain't enough! Read the motion! Downward swing or side-to-side? Spot the direction, you see where it's landing! Again!"
"Why's your arm so weak? You even working out!? Real-world strength and stamina directly translate to game mechanics—know that or not?!"
"No time to sprawl! Dodge my skills 1,000 times first. Then you fire 1,000 times."
True to her request, I drilled her mercilessly.
Just over two hours, but intensity at 50% of what I'd done as a pro in the men's first team. Even women's first-stringers would've tapped out.
Ha-young suffered killer muscle fatigue, puked, collapsed, trembled like a leaf—but gritted through it.
I figured she'd bail after 30 minutes, begging mercy. Nope. She slogged an hour, then full two.
After hell-training, she crawled from the capsule and barely lifted her head to me.
"G-good... urk..."
Mid-sentence, she clamped her mouth and half-crawled to the bathroom.
"Bleurgh!"
Her guts echoed from the locked door.
Intense in-game movement drained capsule users' real energy. The backlash hit reality hard—she was living it.
Three minutes of heaving later, she rinsed her mouth, wiped sweat-soaked brow and neck, and staggered out.
Her wiping hand shook pitifully.
"Huff... huff... G-good work... Coach..."
"You toughed it out. Thought you'd quit—real scrapper."
"Hoo... Didn't wanna be a burden. Tomorrow... can we do it again?"
"Nope. Stamina's not there yet—daily would wreck you. Max every other day, or every three by my call."
"Got it... Then solo queue now..."
"Stop."
"Huh?"
She could barely stand but headed for another capsule. I stopped her.
"Can't gauge your own state? After that, solo queue? You'll break. Skip it all today—bed and rest. Make up games on off days and Sundays. Sundays count toward your quota."
"R-really?"
"Not 'really'—you have to. No arguments. Go rest."
"Yes! Good work, Coach!"
Ten days passed.
Every other day, two-hour specials—she trained like a demon. Her hunger to learn was off the charts; she absorbed faster than expected.
By third session, wrecked. Fourth, she begged an extra hour—and finished it. Ended ragged as day one, though.
Off days, she grinded solo queue, replaying my lessons in her head.
First up, last to bed, top solo games. Tailored coaching plus her grit and work ethic? In ten days, she skyrocketed.
Practice games: ate way fewer skills, landed way more. Her gains eased Sera's burden (sitting her calls), boosting late-game win rates.
And on the twelfth day—a Saturday solo-queue-only, no team practice.
After lunch-to-late-night solos, back at Shining Star dorms.
Players chilled—TV, swapping solo stories, hyping the Eternal Combat Academy League Summer Season opener in two days.
"Beat Brilliant? We got this. Academy's a feast. Can't wait for 3rd Division."
"Sis already eyeing 3rd? No nerves? I'm shaking."
"Heh heh heh. Soon the world knows Kim Seona's might."
"...Where's Ha-young unnie?"
Sera's question got shrugs.
"Yeah, she's been super late to dorms lately. Extra solos?"
"Saw her leave capsules with us earlier..."
"Hey, Yuna unnie. Eunjae. Think I know what Ha-young's up to."
Seona dropped it with a sly look.
"She's been weird, right? Every other day, hours late. Comes back legs shaking, panting, face flushed."
"What're you on about?"
"Wait, unnie! That's not all. Her eyes on Coach lately? Dripping honey, like she's expecting something."
"Ooh, for real? Spill more."
Eunjae perked up.
"Coach leaves practice room late too. Not soloing then... No records till she returns. What else could it be?"
"No way..."
Seona made a circle with thumb and index, poked it with her other index—back and forth.
"This. Gotta be. Shaking legs, ragged breath, flushed face! What else?"
"I was dumb for taking you serious. Bedtime."
Yuna headed to her room. Sera blushed faintly, tsked, followed.
Even intrigued Eunjae eyed her suspiciously.
"No way they'd..."
"Told you."
"Pfft, absurd. Who bangs where it's that obvious?"
"Eunjae, you too? Fine—I'll catch 'em red-handed!"
Seona bolted out the door.
Heading to practice room, she scratched her head, grinning awkwardly.
Did I overplay the tsundere bit? Whatever, might as well drag Ha-young back.
It was a joke, played straight. No way it was real.
Just kept the act too long in front of the team—legs moved first.
She opened the practice room door.
Lights still on.
Shoes mean someone's here...
At the capsule room door, she froze—sound from inside.
"Haa... haa..."
Ha-young's voice. Panting hard.
"Great job. Mechanics way smoother than before."
Familiar male voice. Coach Kang Yuseong.
"Th-thank you."
"More?"
"Wanna, but stamina's tapped... Late, girls might worry. Next time."
Seona eavesdropped, jaw dropping. Face burned crimson.
C-crazy! It was a joke—but it's REAL?!
"You used to push for more."
"You said pace your stamina."
"Good memory. Next time then. You killed it—especially hands. Nearly risky once."
Handjob...?!
Her mind blanked.
"Worked hard to please you, Coach."
"Feet too. Barely moved before—now solid."
Footjob too...?! K-Kang Yuseong, you bastard! Corrupting pure Ha-young...? Unforgivable!
She flung the door open, yelling.
"Kang Yuseong, you perv! Doing that to Ha-young in our practice—...?"
Words died. Scene wasn't what she pictured.
No naked tangle. Both fully clothed, seated, chatting calmly. Sweaty, sure.
Yuseong and Ha-young stared at the intruder.
"......"
"......"
"...Huh?"
"Kim Seona, get over here."