The Loser of the Academy League (1)
We capped off our sixth match with another victory, bringing our record to a perfect 6 wins, 0 losses, and +12 differential. We were still tied with Team Brilliant.
The eighth match—our first against Team Brilliant—would finally separate first from second place.
With the top spot in the Academy League, once just a distant goal, now within reach, the players burned with even greater passion, throwing themselves into practice with renewed vigor.
Thanks to that, I found myself scraping together every spare moment, sacrificing all personal time to focus entirely on caring for the players.
It all stemmed from Seon-ah's loose lips after that sixth match.
Special training.
Ha-young and Seon-ah had been getting special training without the others knowing. Once the match fully wrapped up, the three of them fixed me with sharp glares and grilled me mercilessly.
"Whoa! Coach, I never pegged you for the type to play favorites! Why only Ha-young and Seon-ah? What about us?"
"That's not fair! I wanna get better too! I could be as good as Ha-young or Seon-ah!"
"...You promised to make me better. Are you ditching me now?"
Sera even teared up.
I spent ages sweating bullets, explaining that it wasn't favoritism—that I'd planned to include them all eventually.
Just like that, quicker than popping corn in lightning, I had to schedule special training for the three of them too. Suddenly, my week was packed with back-to-back personal coaching sessions, no days off.
Normally, this would be split between a director and coaches, but as both coach and acting director, I was handling everything solo. I could've used a few extra bodies.
It wasn't just player training—I had to analyze opponent matches, compile data, and draft weekly reports on top of it all.
What could I do? Elevating the players' skills was a coach's entire job.
Seeing the results with Ha-young and Seon-ah, if the others followed guidance well, they could make huge strides too.
That was my mindset as I gritted my teeth and powered through.
Back when I was a player, I'd thought directors and coaches had it easy compared to us. Now that I was in their shoes, it was insanely busy in a whole different way. Maybe I should apologize to BlackWings' director and coaches next time I saw them?
Lack of sleep was wearing me down, but while my condition tanked, the players' skills from special training visibly skyrocketed. We won the seventh match too, leaving just two games until the midpoint.
Meanwhile, the community buzzed with interest in the Academy League, thanks to our players' looks. Debates occasionally flared up over whether Shining Star or Team Brilliant was stronger.
A sight unimaginable for a mere Academy League before.
To capitalize, the organizers requested separate interview footage ahead of our eighth match against Brilliant. Both our team and Brilliant headed to the attached studio in the arena on the same day.
For the players, visiting the arena for non-match reasons was a first.
Even for me, pre-match interviews for Academy League teams felt unheard of.
It just showed how unusually popular we were for an Academy squad.
"Huh? Coach, looks like Brilliant's here too."
As I parked, a van with the Brilliant logo pulled up nearby.
We'd arrived at the exact same time, by coincidence.
We all piled out together, sharing an awkward first encounter.
Hating the tense, sidelong glances, I approached Brilliant first.
"Team Brilliant, right? I'm Kang Yuseong, coach of Shining Star."
"Ah, yes. I'm Lee Han, director of Brilliant."
I exchanged slight bows with Brilliant's director, Lee Han, but conversation fizzled out.
Players from both sides just eyed each other warily—no greetings like ours.
Especially Brilliant's players staring at ours; their expressions were anything but friendly.
Can't blame them.
They'd publicly challenged us to a scrim, bragging they'd crush us, only to get smashed 2-1. Talk about humiliation.
And in game two, Sera had practically thrown the match, more focused on trolling their players than teamwork—yet we still won. No wonder they were pissed.
"Looking forward to some fun interviews from each other."
"Same here. Hope it's a really fun one."
"We'll head up first then."
"Sure, good luck."
Not much to say to each other anyway, so Lee Han led his players to the elevator first.
"Let's go."
We followed, hopping into the next elevator to the studio. I briefed the players on interview dos and don'ts: show spirit and confidence, but no loose lips.
"Ha-young should be fine. Seon-ah, Eunjae—no weird ramblings. Yuna, keep it polite and brief. Sera, speak up a bit. Got it?"
"...Yeah."
"Hey! Why assume we'd say dumb stuff? Harsh much, Coach!"
"Polite? I'm politeness personified! Ugh, pissing me off again. If you weren't my coach..."
"Anyway, just be more careful with words than usual—keep it smooth. Especially you two, Seon-ah and Yuna; you're on thin ice. No audition-level antics."
"But what kinda stuff do they ask in these interviews?"
Eunjae's question made me rack my brain.
"Obvious stuff. Thoughts on the opponent, feelings about our perfect streak since debut. Maybe the open scrim comes up. Could even ask for a provocative one-liner aimed at them. Answer as requested, but don't be a jerk."
"Can I say they sucked so bad I almost fell asleep mid-game?"
"No!"
"Hm... Kang Yuseong... Kang Yuseong, huh. That's the guy, right? The solo queue rank one?"
Brilliant's director, Lee Han, sat in the pre-interview waiting room, mulling over the Shining Star coach he'd met in the parking lot.
"Yeah, they hyped it up big time—Shining Star's coach is solo rank one."
"But why's a solo rank one coaching instead of playing?"
Brilliant's players answered their director's question.
Lee Han pulled up his phone to check profiles of directors, coaches, and players from each team—public info from the organizers.
He'd skimmed players before, but never coaches. First time digging into Kang Yuseong.
Whoa? 21 years old? He looked young, but this is college kid level—not even a fresh grad. This guy's running a whole team?
Lee Han chuckled in disbelief at Kang Yuseong's profile.
First shock: insanely young for a coach. Second: losing a scrim—even a scrim—to a team led by this rookie? Unbelievable.
But piecing together the youth, short coaching stint... a picture formed in Lee Han's mind.
"This Shining Star match might be a cakewalk."
Oh Sujin's head snapped up at that.
"You mean we'll win? How? We're getting revenge no matter what! Especially those two bitches who teabagged me after kills!"
Since that scrim, Oh Sujin ground her teeth at the mere mention of Shining Star.
Kim Seon-ah and Kim Eunjae—teabagging her right in the face after kills—were trigger words for a meltdown.
"You all saw that Shining Star coach, right?"
"Yeah, he was hot."
"Not the looks. How old did he seem?"
"Coach? Mid-twenties maybe?"
"He's 21."
"What? Barely older than us? Why's he coaching pros instead?"
"Beats me. But think: brand-new team, solo queue star with zero coaching experience, five total rookies. What's their weak spot?"
Brilliant's players got it instantly. Academy League vets of over two years, after all.
"Lack of experience!"
"Exactly."
Eternal Combat leagues had been around three years now. Early days, sure, but that pro scene seasoning wasn't a joke.
Call it pride or shame, but Lee Han had led Brilliant for two years, topping the Academy League.
He and his players were battle-hardened vets with priceless real-match experience money couldn't buy.
Shining Star's seven wins on rookie fire? Once that momentum cracked, rookies plummeted hard.
Lee Han knew exactly how to exploit that.
Experience.
The one thing rookies absolutely lacked.
With little experience, they crumbled uncontrollably when surprises hit or plans derailed.
Having seen Kang Yuseong in person, Lee Han saw the answer in his thin resume and youth.
Exploit that inexperience, and victory was theirs.