Project Shining Star (3)

Despite finding solid candidates like Lee Ha-young and Kim Eunjae on the first day, by the fifth day, not a single worthwhile player had shown up.

There were plenty of participants who could cause a stir with their looks, but their skills fell flat.

The viewers and spectators watching the matches seemed to share the same thoughts, as in-game viewer counts and overall audiences kept dwindling right up to day five.

Even the reps from other women's academy league teams who had come to scout on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the first day started thinning out from day three, and by day five, none showed up at all.

And now, on day six.

I wandered the lobby where spectators and participants mingled, scanning the crowd. Teams were randomly assigned by participant number, so anyone serious about going pro would be huddled in urgent strategy sessions.

But most were too busy fixing their makeup, peering into hand mirrors from every angle.

'Another bust today.'

I shook my head and turned away. After days without a decent prospect, even I was losing motivation.

Give me someone worth salvaging, and I'd scout with real fire.

Sighing, I headed back to the judges' table when I spotted a group huddled in an alley. The tournament channel mimicked a quiet suburban town, making it easy to pick out people slacking off in backstreets like this.

"We're up after the next ones—what's your pick gonna be?"

A woman with long black hair in a ponytail asked. She had a pretty face, but her vibe was a bit fierce.

'At least one team bothering with strategy.'

Curious what they'd discuss, I hung back at a distance and eavesdropped. As channel admin, I could see and hear them crystal clear from afar.

The ponytail girl pressed for picks again, but the other four barely glanced her way, perfunctorily answering while touching up their makeup.

"Dunno. Whatever works."

"This is an audition—'whatever works'? We gotta play well to get picked!"

"Then you pick. I'll go with it."

"You guys have mains! Pick from those—how am I supposed to decide everything?!"

"Just pick something. Why you gotta be so extra?"

"......"

I checked the status of the unusually passionate ponytail girl.

'What the hell...'

Cha Yuna was the most extreme participant I'd seen yet—not just in raw stats.

The highs and lows screamed volumes.

Her physicals were solid, and her competitive spirit overflowed just like the window said. Players with that fire train solo relentlessly, walking any grueling path for a win.

The issues? Mental and teamwork.

Low teamwork doesn't mean she'll stubbornly solo-queue everything.

She'll lane-swap if needed, starve all game if called for, even dive 1v5 if it leads to victory.

But if she decides it's not the path to win? Trouble brews. A few losses, and she questions the plan, goes rogue against team strategy, feeds harder.

Won't admit it's her fault, picks fights with teammates.

Common enough in pro play—not rare, but not ideal. Her rock-bottom teamwork probably stems from exactly that.

These types blame others when results tank, turn into fight-pickers. Even within a team.

Against randoms like these...

"This is gonna blow up."

Her face flushed red then ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠pale—I had a bad feeling.

And sure enough.

Cha Yuna stormed up to the most half-assed responder and slapped the powder pact right out of her hand.

"Kyaaak!"

The pact shattered on the ground, powder exploding everywhere. It's a cosmetic item bought with real money for avatar customization in-game—functions like real makeup here.

The victim screamed. It'd respawn on reconnect, but match time was ticking.

Cha Yuna loomed over her, unleashing a tirade.

"Hey, you fucking bitch. This is a pro gamer open audition, not some idol casting call. No time for caking your face—think about how to win instead.

If we lose 'cause of you and I get cut, you gonna take responsibility? Wanna be an idol? Go hit up an agency. Why crash a pro audition and pull this shit?"

Classic.

This was a straight-up "throw hands" declaration.

"M-my pact! You psycho bitch! What the hell?!"

"She's fucking nuts."

"You're the only one taking this seriously! Why smash my pact?!"

Her outburst had the team on the brink of brawl. Lucky bystanders heard the commotion and intervened—otherwise, fists would've flown.

A textbook flaw for her personality type, right on display.

'Her stats aren't a total wash...'

That attitude makes her a massive risk unless her skill is god-tier enough to stomach the headaches.

Only reason to pick her type: overwhelming talent.

But she'd already nuked team synergy. No salvaging that.

Still, I wanted to gauge her strengths.

Back at judges, I asked manager Kim.

"Manager, how many no-shows among today's players? Just signed up but didn't show?"

"Not many... about ten."

"Those teams need rebalancing anyway, right? Mix no-shows' teams with existing ones, reshuffle, push their matches back a bit?"

"Solves logistics for us, but need at least two teams' okay."

"You'll get at least one."

Soon, we announced the reshuffle for incomplete teams.

Two existing teams got bumped back—and as expected, Cha Yuna's jumped at the delay.

The other four probably never wanted to see her face again.

Opponents accepted for extra prep time. Cha Yuna slotted into a new squad.

Late day six, her new team's match.

"Participants, please introduce yourselves."

"Number 1217, Cha Yuna. Here to go pro. Shining Star's offlaner spot is mine."

The match started, and I was shocked in two ways.

First, Cha Yuna's insane skill.

Offlaners face enemy carry + support—minimum 1v2, usually 1v3. Get pummeled constantly; survive dives or ganks or die trying.

Farming CS is brutal amid the stress, plus tank/init duties. Heavy responsibility.

Yet Cha Yuna held her tough lane, snagging CS respectably.

Maybe her champ, Wave Sorcerer, optimized for surviving. But even on it, bad players die. Cha Yuna disrupted enemy carry farms ruthlessly, sniffed dives like a ghost, tower-hugged perfectly.

Enemies wasted time targeting her fruitlessly; her team ballooned ahead.

Then I spotted another surprise.

The carry on Cha Yuna's new team—a girl with a cap shadowing her face. Profile pic showed long black hair, strikingly exotic features.

'She's got something.'

Cha Yuna's tenacity was one thing, but carry Shin Sera hooked me.

Not a peep all game—couldn't read her mind—but her judgment was spot-on.

Skipped teamfights pre-core for farms; joined only for core-complete kills/assists.

Carries flop by mistiming fights vs. farms; Sera judged precisely, farmed silently unless critical.

Even when teammates portaled to help dived Cha Yuna, she stayed put.

"What're you doing? Get over here!"

Cha Yuna screamed as teammates piled in via portal scrolls.

"Sera! Hurry! 4v5, we'll all die!"

"Won't help."

Sera's first words: short, curt.

Spot-on. Underfarmed carry adds nothing, just feeds huge. She refused; team got wiped 4v5 top.

As teammates chewed her out for farming, Cha Yuna exploded.

"Why all top?! Carry not ready for fights—if you'd left me, I'd die clean. You idiots flew in and fed!"

"We were helping—what?!"

"That's helping? You came to die together! Can't judge fight timing from picks?!"

Cha Yuna's blaze spared Sera—her call was right.

Dive meant death anyway; solo feed fine. Teammates' "help" worsened it.

"Sera. Time's short after that mess."

"Stack jungle camps then."

"Okay."

Stacking.

In Eternal Combat, jungle respawns every minute. Pull aggro precisely, clear camp—new spawn stacks. Pulled mobs return; double stack.

Repeat to bank for carry. Pro basics.

Tedious timing, steal risk—rare even in diamond.

Yet Cha Yuna and Sera treated it casual, ordered/accepted seamlessly.

Post-order, Cha Yuna sacrificed waves to pull—starting strongest camp. After ~4 stacks, Sera swept en route.

Under Cha Yuna's stacks, Sera surged—now a core item ahead of enemy carry.

Enemies baffled: they won fights, took map pressure—why the farm gap?

"All grown."

Sera's curt line.

"Teamfight now. I'll init—don't front and get picked; hang back."

Cha Yuna's tone was rude as hell, but victory loomed—team obeyed quietly.

Spotting foes, she blinked mid-enemy turf via Escape Dagger's long-range flash, ulted.

Wave Sorcerer's massive stun-ult hit all five—fight over.

Team swarmed, devoured. Victory.

'These two sync better than expected.'

Personalities polar, but first-meet chemistry clicked.

Especially their mindset.

I circled their profiles, watched the rest.

After Cha Yuna and Shin Sera synced in one game, no notables till finale.

Some pro-aspiring faces popped up—not trash, but nowhere near Ha-young, Eunjae, Yuna, Sera.

Mid open—no randos. My old lane. Want a real one there.

"Auditions nearly done."

Manager Kim's dark circles deepened from the grind.

"Many keepers?"

"Four worth building."

"Whoa, from 2k+? Your ranker's eye is picky."

"Lowered bar as-is."

Strict picks? All four cut. Compromised for audition's sake.

"Next match! Intros please!"

A confident girl strode forward, chest out.

Waist-length wavy hair.

She stole eyes—not just face, but explosive figure.

"Hi! Number 2411, Kim Seona. Mid! Signed up but was busy, almost skipped..."

Emphasizing busy life? Why say that?

Then Kim Seona shattered expectations.

"But watching others? Wow, they suck hard. Didn't practice, but I could toe-stomp better. So here I am."

"......"

"Kidding! Hehe~."