Hooked Perfectly

"Seo-aSeo-a, pow, pow, powww!"

"Bong-sik, I told you to call me unnie. Bong-sik, attention! Microphone control starts now."

"No way — from Heavy hyung-nim himself? Hey, try that again. Huh? Unnie? That's it. Pull out your ID."

"Thank you, Wooga-dolSeo-aFan. Bong-sik, unnie already passed the Yoon-seo Law. Good boy, right? Listen up."

"Okay, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠how old are you?"

"Mm. Born in 2000. Call me unnie."

"……."

Nine years younger than the '91-liner Park Bong-sik.

But I charged in without a second thought.

Reading the room, there was no real heat coming off him — and the viewers were eating it up. Not just in my stream, either. His chat was loving it too.

"Aigoo, hyung-nims. Is it even right that a man my age is taking this from a 2000 baby? That's it. Manager — hit the BGM!"

At last, Park Bong-sik's signature funding finisher dropped.

A grand BGM swelled, and the Dragon Ball Spirit Bomb filled the background.

"Muguins! Lend me your power so I can crush this insolent little punk!"

In the end the funding closed at 37,833 to 40,352 Candies — my loss.

Honestly, it was a stunning showing. Fixed fans alone, it was roughly five hundred against thirty thousand. The only reason I'd kept pace at all was the regulars and floating viewers pitching in on the funding.

"See that? Huff! If I… go all out, huff! someone like you is… huff… gone in an instant."

Even the Spirit Bomb hadn't settled it, so Park Bong-sik had thrown in a dance on top — and now he couldn't hide the ragged breathing.

"Oki oki. I'm not unnie. From now on, call me uncle."

"Hey! If you win it's unnie, and if I win it's uncle? That's not fair — make it oppa, evenly."

"Uncle Bong-sik, when you were in the military I was still in elementary school. And you still want oppa?"

"……."

Park Bong-sik finally held his tongue, but the face on screen was glowing. Why put on this whole circus in the first place? All of it was to make money. And with the final Candy count on the MCK match mission clearing two hundred thirty thousand, of course he was thrilled… Split among the winning team, that was forty-six thousand Candies a head.

"Okay, you pass! Thirty-eight thousand Seo-aSeo-as — I acknowledge you. Keep it up just like this."

"Anyone listening would think your team already won. I'm stepping on Uncle Bong-sik and climbing to the upper balance."

"Ha? Eun-ho, you hear that just now? Don't you dare stop me today. I'm unlocking the parking brake and flooring it."

The match-mission funding had only been the prologue. No matter how much money got raised, the structure was merciless ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— winner takes all. Park Bong-sik and I kept the mind games going right to the end, then peeled off into our respective team Discord rooms.

"Seo-a-nim, you said you've only been streaming a little over two months?"

"Yes! That's right."

"Man. And your mouth is already that sharp. Hope your jungle's on the same level. If I can't win this one, I'm starving."

I didn't know anyone on the team, so things had been a little awkward — until HoneyItem, the oldest of us, broke the ice first. After that, introductions went smoothly enough.

"Whoa! It's been a while since I've had someone younger than me."

"Bangma, is this really the time to care about that? If you don't swap your spells like last time, you're actually dead."

"Ah, come on! HoneyItem oppa always only gets on my case."

Our Discord vibe wasn't bad. HoneyItem sat at the center and everyone got their share of airtime; Rim-ani blew up every so often, but whenever she did, HoneyItem — the elder — reined her in cleanly.

"You said this is your first team game, so listen to my calls carefully."

"Yes! I'll give it everything."

I'd hit Master before, sure — but that was back when I was completely deranged about the game, just dipping a toe in. Strictly speaking, a local who bounced between Diamond 1 and 2 was the accurate description. And after I got a job, I'd quit the game entirely. I'd picked it back up in private streams after the regression, but the rust still clung to me.

Honestly, I'm deliberately slowing my growth too. Gold–Plat jungle is the real honey pot — take it slow.

I needed to hold that kind of tier if I wanted to keep showing up as Park Bong-sik's balance partner in CK. On Pangea TV's League scene, being "Park Bong-sik's balance" carried enormous weight. Whenever he hosted or joined a LoL CK, that pairing would be the first thing people brought up. So I had to make this opportunity count.

"Best of three. Let's go."

"Yeah! Team fight!"

The games began.

As the matches got properly underway, two things became clear.

Solo queue and team games were nothing alike.

In solo queue I prioritized my own gains and played fluidly off the moment; team games were a different animal entirely. Even if it meant taking a loss in the jungle, there were times you had to sacrifice for the team's benefit. What was required wasn't improvisational play so much as standardized, gear-meshing coordination.

Three real mistakes? Counting the little ones, probably more.

Every time HoneyItem's calls diverged from what I'd expected, I couldn't help flinching a little. The silver lining was that my opponent was Park Bong-sik — a couple of steps below me — so the mistakes never stood out too badly. And since our team won, nobody called me out.

And one more thing.

I have less impact than I thought.

I'd been confident enough in my play that I expected to shine, but I was just… fine. There was a jungle gap, sure, but not the kind that would pin the other guy as the criminal of the match.

I thought about it for a second, then looked at the CK roster and decided it made sense. A former pro in HoneyItem, three Diamond-tier players on the team — if a me who'd gotten worse than my peak League-obsessed days, and who still wasn't used to team games, somehow carried, that would have been the joke.

Actually, this works out. Means I can stay on Park Bong-sik's balance for a while.

You don't get balance recognition off a single set, so another shot would come soon enough.

"Good work, everyone. Especially Seo-a — first CK, and you stayed calmer than I expected. Once you adapt to team games, you'll be cracking skulls on Bong-sik's level."

"Nah! That's all because the main shot-caller was so clean. The game blew open on the Voidgrubs early."

"Facts, facts. Pulling the ADC into that was the best call."

"As expected, HoneyItem hyung-nim is a supercomputer."

"Ahaha — alright, let's hop over to their Discord."

Riding the winner's ease, our team moved into the opposing Discord room.

And from the jump, the shouting started.

"You dumbass human being. Pulling off the scuttle like that — does that even make sense? Huh? You see this? Their jungler's Q was down — you just dive first and it's over."

"You crazy pig. I burned every skill trying to shove the top wave first — how am I supposed to take that fight? Huh?"

"Then you call it, you absolute idiot. You even used Flash."

"You should've briefed the situation properly. I'm locked into lane and all I hear is you screaming to shove and come down — how am I supposed to know?"

"Aargh, for real! HoneyItem hyung-nim, can you please check whose fault this was?"

The CK result was already decided. 2–0, our team.

But the content wasn't over. The time-honored tradition of CK had arrived: Find the Criminal.

Mostly it was for broadcast angles, or as a buildup into LoL Land — CK's unofficial second half. Sometimes, though, the concept-fighting mixed with real heat and the whole thing flipped on its head.

Hmm. Doesn't feel like real heat.

So I started reading the room and angling for a broadcast moment. Questions were going to come back around to me eventually — I'd been the enemy jungler.

"Ah, whatever. Just hit the match result confirm already. Losers sure have a lot to say."

"Hyung-nim! Don't be so cold. I'm not hitting confirm until we find the criminal for real! Rim-ani, who do you think the criminal is? Huh? Be honest."

"Is our Bong-sik really that mad? Then you should've drafted me on ADC."

"What kind of nonsense is that. Between top and jungle — who's the criminal."

Clack, clack-clack—!

A good idea hit me.

While Park Bong-sik kept raging, I leisurely opened Notepad ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and started typing.

"Ah! Who's that keyboard clacking, for real!"

I put on a startled face and hit Ctrl+Tab to hide the Notepad. In that same window, a flock of cuckoos took flight and delivered the criminal's existence straight to Park Bong-sik.

"Stop! Don't move. Seo-aSeo-a, I'm coming into your stream right now, so leave that Notepad up exactly as it is. You delete it and I'm doing a VOD autopsy."

"Ah— no, that's…"

It was a move I'd baited on purpose, and I even stammered like I was genuinely flustered. Park Bong-sik was already in the stream, barking at me to show the Notepad.

"Ah, whatever! I only wrote facts."

"……."

The Notepad contents went public on screen again. He seemed to be reading from top to bottom — a stretch of silence settled in.

Will it land?

Heart hammering, I waited for Park Bong-sik's reaction.

"Heh."

"……."

"Heh, heheh."

Okay, that was a little scary.

I was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠about to explain that I'd written it as a joke, not seriously — and then:

"Seo-aSeo-a. You're actually dead. What? I feel a wall against you? From now on, every single MCK, I'm locking you in as a fixed pick — you will participate, no exceptions. We're gonna see whose skull cracks first. Huh? Starting today, special League training begins."

Park Bong-sik's declaration, half real heat mixed in as it burst out.

I let a troubled look show on my face — and smiled on the inside.

Perfect. Hooked him properly.